Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Maurizio
“Daddy.”
I screwed my face up until it was contorted in a combination of disappointment that my daughter was still awake and resignation that I was going to become embroiled in at least two more bedtime stories and possibly a lengthy discussion.
“Yes, sweetheart.” Turning, I saw Rosie fidgeting until she sat up in bed, looking at me expectantly.
“Can I ask you something?”
Maybe I’d get away with the story telling if she was going straight in with asking questions. “Of course.”
My daughter patted the space next to her on the bed and I dutifully took my place there.
“Does Bea have to leave?”
I looked down at her confused little face and wondered what was going on in her head. “Well, you know she is having a baby, so she’ll need to take some time off to have the baby and take care of him, or her, won’t she?”
Rosie nodded.
“I mean, if she still wants to come and visit, she can. Then when she’s had some time with her baby, she can come back and work here, if she wants to.
” I resisted the temptation to lay the groundwork for the fact that Bea may choose not to return to work.
Actually, I very much doubted that her boyfriend would want her to come back, and I thought that once she had her own baby in her arms, she’d be totally on board with that.
My daughter continued to frown, meaning my response was either not the one she wanted or there was something else on her mind. When she started to speak it became clear it was the latter.
“Like Mummy?”
“Mummy?” I sat straighter with a start at the introduction of Sophie, but unclear which part of Bea’s maternity leave was like Mummy.
“Well, she left for a little bit and then she came back.” Her voice broke. “But then she went again, and she phones us, but she doesn’t visit so much.”
Fucking hell! Why had I never thought of it that way?
My poor baby girl. All this shit had no place in her young and innocent mind.
If Sophie appeared right now, I might just fucking throttle her with my bare hands.
I didn’t want my wife to be unhappy and she clearly had been with me.
My ego had taken a bit of a chink in its armour when she’d announced her discontentment, more so when I realised her life with me had been a lie of sorts for some of our time together, if not all of it.
She was their mother and I got that she needed time to get her own shit together and to explore her new relationship, but not at our children’s expense.
The reality had been that ‘her return’ had been fleeting, no more and that had clearly done Rosie and probably Craig more harm than good, but this had still been her home so even if I’d wanted to at that stage, I couldn’t deny her the opportunity to return, could I?
“I could speak to Mummy, see if she is able to visit soon.” I had no idea if this was possible from Sophie’s end.
Rosie nodded. “Can Mummy come back home, if she wants to?”
What was I supposed to say to that because the real answer to that was no.
A big fat fucking no. Not because I held any malice for her but because we were done.
Forever. And no matter what she decided, I wouldn’t be her fallback guy, no matter how much I loved my kids.
I had far too much self-respect for that.
Plus, my mother would kick my arse back to Italy a dozen times over if I gave Sophie so much as a sniff of another chance.
“Darling, no.” I felt like a complete bastard as fresh, hot tears rolled down my little girl’s beautiful face.
“Mummy will always be your mummy and Daddy would never keep you from seeing her, you nor Craig, but Mummy and Daddy can’t be together anymore.
We both love you so much, more than anything or anyone, and that will never change. ”
She nodded. We’d had this conversation when Sophie first left and a couple of times after, but not for a while and clearly Bea, another constant in their life moving on had prompted these worries.
“I know things might feel a little strange when Bea leaves to have her baby, but that is why Flora is here, too, so we can all get to know each other and become friends.”
Rosie nodded again. “We made cakes with Bea today.”
I let out a short chuckle at the turn in conversation. “Did you save me one?”
“We saved you two . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“But . . .”
She giggled. “We ate them, me and Craig.”
“No!” I cried as quietly as I could so as not to wake my son who let out a little snore.
She giggled again at my horrified expression. “Flora said we can make biscuits tomorrow.”
“That sounds nice. Will you save me one of those then?”
“I’ll try.”
I laughed at her non-committal response.
“Flora let us help her cook pasta last night . . . she put tomatoes and green stuff in it and lots of vegetables, but they were nice.” She looked agog at the idea of green stuff, which I assumed were herbs or spinach, being put into her dinner.
“We saved you some of that,” she added as an afterthought.
“Thank you. I will have that for dinner tonight then. If you’re okay and ready to sleep?” I was starving, but if my little girl needed me to stay and hold her hand or anything else, then that is what I would do.
She shook her head as she let out a yawn, confirming that she was ready for sleep.
“Night, my sweet girl.” I leaned down and kissed her goodnight. “Do you like Flora?” This wasn’t me fishing, this was me making sure that I had made the right choice in employing her as Bea’s replacement.
“She’s funny and plays with us. Before, Craig did a wee in the garden—”
My laughter cut off my daughter’s tale. She didn’t need to know I already knew this story so I let her carry on.
“Daddy . . .” She frowned at me disapprovingly. “It’s not funny. He didn’t need to do that. There are lots of toilets in the house.”
She was right, there were.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe I should have a word with Craig tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “Flora spoke to him. She sat with him on the grass and chatted.” Another frown creased her brow. “I wanted to go with her when she was talking to him, but she wouldn’t let me.”
I smiled, partly at my daughter’s dismay at missing out on front row seats to Flora speaking to Craig, but also at Flora’s handling of the situation, in private, discreetly, in a calm and dignified way. Just as it should be.
“And she likes us to help her when she cooks and stuff . . .” Rosie was back on why she liked Flora. “Oh, and she’s pretty and smells nice.”
I felt the smirk spread across my face. She was pretty.
Gorgeous, in fact. And fuck it, she did smell really nice.
Nice enough to eat. I couldn’t think of her in that way, especially not eating her, specifically not when I was tucking my daughter up for the night.
With a final straighten of the bed covers and another kiss, I prepared to leave.
“Night, Daddy.”
As I sat in the kitchen with the pasta from the night before and a beer, I stared down at my phone.
With Sophie’s number already selected, I braced myself for the call I needed to make, if only to get some idea of when Sophie planned on seeing the children.
The first mouthful of pasta in my mouth had me moaning as the flavours burst against my taste buds.
This tasted divine and immediately I imagined the taste of the cook herself.
“Fuck,” I said with a laugh aimed at my own obsessive weirdo behaviour. I felt my cock stiffen slightly at the thought of Flora’s taste on my tongue. I was like an adolescent all over again.
Looking back down at my phone I decided I might need to be a grown-up for a little while. I snatched it up and hit dial and waited for the call to connect.