Chapter 18
Ava
Iam sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Natural History Museum next to a five-year-old who takes dinosaurs extremely seriously.
Which is how I know my life has taken a very unexpected but possibly excellent turn.
“And that,” I say quietly, pointing at the enormous skull above us, “is why Triceratops had three horns. Two for defence and one because apparently dinosaurs believed in dramatic headwear,” I finish my mini Ted-talk
Alfie nods gravely.
“That would beat a lion.”
“Yes,” I agree. “Very easily.”
“And a tiger.”
“Yes.”
“And a shark.”
I pause. “Only if the shark was very lost.”
He considers this.
“Or if the Triceratops was able to swim.”
“That would definitely even the odds.”
We both look back up at the skeleton towering above us. Sitting down it feels enormous.
Alfie leans slightly against my arm like he has decided I am acceptable museum company.
“You know a lot,” he says.
“I read a lot.”
“Do you read dinosaur books?”
“I read everything,” I admit. “Books are my favourite hobby.”
That earns me a small smile.
Jack is standing a few steps behind us, watching. I can feel it without even turning around. That quiet, warm attention he has. Not interrupting. Just… there.
Dangerous man.
“Did they really have feathers?” Alfie asks.
“Some dinosaurs did,” I say. “Mostly the ones related to birds. Velociraptors probably looked less like the scary film versions and more like very angry chickens.”
Alfie bursts out laughing.
“Angry chickens.”
“Very bitey ones.”
He nods like this is extremely useful information.
I finally glance back and catch Jack smiling at us. Not amused. Not indulgent. Just… soft.
My stomach does that stupid little flip again.
“So,” I say to Alfie, “important question. If you had a dinosaur, what would you call it?”
He thinks hard.
“Gary.”
I giggle.
“Gary?”
“Yes.”
“Why Gary?”
He shrugs. “Because he looks like Gary, Grampy’s plumber friend.”
I nod solemnly. “Fair.”
Jack laughs quietly behind us.
“You’re encouraging this,” he says.
“I think Gary is an excellent name for a Triceratops,” I reply.
Alfie beams.
“If we want to see the Diplodocus in the Evolution Garden before we have to head to Euston,” Jack says, checking his watch, “we need to go now.”
Alfie jumps up immediately.
“I’m ready.”
I remain exactly where I am and hold both hands up towards Jack.
He looks at me.
I look at him.
He sighs. “You’re forty-three, not ninety.”
“I am in my forties,” I repeat, wiggling my fingers. “Which means getting up off museum floors now requires assistance.”
He laughs but takes my hands anyway, pulling me up in one smooth movement that leaves me slightly closer to him than necessary.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome, pensioner.”
“Careful,” I warn. “I know things about dinosaurs.”
Alfie is already heading towards the exit when someone approaches Jack.
“Sorry,” the woman says politely. “Would you mind a quick selfie?”
Jack immediately turns into that public version of himself. Kind. Patient. Used to this.
“Of course.”
Alfie instinctively moves closer to me, half hiding behind my legs. Not scared. Just quietly retreating the way shy children do when strangers appear.
Without thinking I rest my hand lightly on his shoulder. He relaxes instantly.
Jack crouches slightly so the woman can take the picture. Afterward she smiles.
“Thank you. I’m Bharine by the way. I’m the operations manager here.”
She gives me a friendly, knowing smile, her gaze briefly taking in the three of us together. I feel heat creep into my cheeks and give her a small, polite smile back.
“Well,” she says to Jack, “if you ever wanted to do a private viewing outside opening hours, do let us know. We sometimes arrange those.”
Before Jack can answer, Alfie speaks from beside me.
“Could I touch the dinosaurs?”
Bharine smiles at him immediately.
“I’m afraid not the real ones. They’re a bit too fragile.”
“Oh,” he says disappointed.
“But,” she adds, crouching slightly to his level, “we do have a family sleepover next month. Families can stay overnight in the museum.”
Alfie’s eyes widen.
“With the dinosaurs?”
“With the dinosaurs.”
“Like… actually sleep here?”
“Yes.”
He turns to Jack like he has just discovered something life-changing.
“Dad.”
Jack laughs. “I recognise that tone. That’s the beginning of a sales pitch.”
“Can Ava come?”
The question lands so simply it catches me completely off guard.
Jack looks at me.
I suddenly find the museum floor extremely interesting.
“Well,” he says slowly, “we’d have to see if Ava is brave enough to sleep next to a T-Rex.”
“I think I’d be more worried about sleeping next to someone who had six desserts,” I say.
Alfie grins. “They were small.”
Bharine laughs. “Enjoy the rest of your day. And do get in touch if you want that private tour.”
We thank her and continue outside.
Alfie walks close to me again, his shoulder occasionally bumping my arm like he wants to make sure I know I’m one of his safe spaces.
Jack falls into step beside me.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod.
“Yeah.”
I hesitate.
“That question just surprised me.”
“Which one?”
I glance at Alfie.
Can Ava come?
“Alfie’s.”
Jack watches me for a moment like he’s trying to say something without pushing too hard.
“Well,” he says softly, “for what it’s worth… I liked that he asked.”
I don’t answer straight away.
Instead I just walk between them, aware of how easily I seem to have slipped into this small space between father and son.
And how much that both comforts and scares me.
Monday morning feels unreal.
The newsroom hum is exactly the same as always. Phones ringing. Keyboards clattering. Someone arguing about a headline. And yet I feel like I’ve come back slightly… rearranged.
I’m smiling.
Which is apparently my first mistake.
Chloe looks up from her screen and narrows her eyes immediately.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That is a nothing happened but something definitely happened face.”
I try to look neutral. I fail.
“I need to talk to Marie-Louise,” I say instead.
Chloe gasps softly. “Oh my God. You shagged him.”
I freeze. How could she probably know this?
“I did not confirm that.”
“You didn’t deny it either. And it’s all over your face. I mean, not his you know… no cum incident but just the look you have.”
I pick up my notebook like it can shield me from interrogation.
“I can’t believe you just said c…u…m in the office. So, I’m going before you start asking follow-up questions.”
“Too late,” she calls after me. “I already have twelve.”
I ignore her and knock on Marie Louise’s door instead.
“Come in.”
Marie-Louise is behind her desk, glasses low on her nose, surrounded by the kind of organised chaos that means deadlines are looming. She looks up with the expression of someone who has exactly three minutes and intends to use them wisely.
“Yes, Ava?”
I close the door and immediately forget how sentences work.
“I just… I wanted to talk about the Westland piece.”
She gestures to the chair. “Sit. Quickly. What’s wrong?”
I sit. Then don’t speak.
She waits.
I take a deep breath.
“I don’t think I should write it.”
Marie-Louise closes her eyes briefly.
“Oh for heaven’s sake.”
My stomach drops.
“Why?”
I stare at my hands.
“Because… Jack and I have sort of…” I hesitate. “Fallen for each other a bit.”
Silence.
Then Marie-Louise leans back slowly in her chair.
“First Chloe,” she says. “Now you.”
I wince slightly.
“At this rate I should probably warn AJ not to fall in love with the firefighter he’s profiling next week.”
I almost smile.
“I mean, she hates him,” Marie-Louise adds. “So the risk is probably low.”
That sounds like newsroom logic.
Then she sighs and looks at me properly.
“Are you sure?” she asks, more gently now.
I nod automatically.
“Well,” she says finally, already reaching for another file, “you did the right thing telling me.”
“I’ve typed up all my notes,” I say. “Match details, background, the academy plans, his reasons for coming here. Maybe someone from sports could just—”
“No.”
I blink. “No?”
“No,” she repeats, not even looking up yet. “Because this isn’t just about the match. This is supposed to be about him. Why he came here. What he’s trying to build. Why people should care.”
She finally looks up again.
“That needs a bit of soul.”
Something in my chest tightens at that.
“I’ll ask Andrea to take it,” she continues. “She’s good with the human angle. I’ll pair her with Ben from sports so he can handle the football side. Between them they’ll manage.”
Relief washes through me so suddenly I nearly sag in the chair.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
She waves a hand.
“You were honest. That’s what matters.” Then, after a beat, “And frankly I’d rather reassign a piece than deal with another conflict of interest meeting.”
That makes me smile.
“Is this… serious?” she asks again, quieter now.
I hesitate just long enough that she notices.
“Yes,” I say. “I think it is.”
She nods once, like she’s filed that away somewhere between deadlines and staff rotas.
“Well then,” she says, already reaching for her phone, “try not to make it messy. I run a newspaper, not a dating agency.”
“I’ll try.”
As I stand to leave she adds, without looking up,
“And Ava?”
“Yes?”
“You seem happy. I wish you both the best.”
I escape before she can get me all emotional.
Chloe is waiting the second I step back into the newsroom.
Arms folded. Eyebrows raised. The expression of a woman who absolutely intends to extract information.
“Well?” she asks.
“I’ve asked for someone else to write the article.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Oh. Oh that’s serious then.”
I try to sound casual. “It’s just sensible.”
“Mhm,” she says, completely unconvinced. “So when do I get details?”
“You don’t.”
“I will,” she says calmly. “I always do.”
I sit down at my desk and try to look like a woman focused on proofreading.
Instead I find myself smiling at nothing.
At the thought of joining Alfie and Jack for dinner on Thursday.
At the thought of Jack’s hand at the back of my neck.
At the thought of us.
Chloe watches me for another second, then mutters, “Yep. Definitely serious.”
I don’t even try to deny it.