Chapter 24

24

N athan blinked awake. Something was off.

Wait a minute.

Ah, right. Gennie was still here. But also…

Tiny feet were digging into his side. He glanced down. Abby was snuggled up between them and drooling on his duvet. Her small body was soft with sleep, her blonde hair a tangled mess. His heart lurched.

Gennie stirred and blinked those big doe eyes at him, then down at the tiny human between them. Her lips formed a single, panicked word: ‘Shit’. She hid her face in her hands, then peeked at him through her fingers. ‘Is this okay?’

Part of him wanted to howl at the moon and shout from the rooftops, ‘Fuck, yeah! This is all I ever wanted!’ The other part, the rational one, knew she was leaving in a few weeks. She wouldn’t just break one heart, she’d break two.

He’d tried so hard to avoid that.

It dawned on him that it was far, far too late.

He forced a smile and nodded, hoping she couldn’t see the conflict in his eyes.

Just then, a piercing, impatient meow split the air. The next second, a furry missile came hurtling up the bed and landed squarely on his chest with a thud.

‘Shush, Hubert!’

Abby squirmed between them. Her tiny body stretched as she yawned. She looked up at them with her round blue eyes, sleep still clinging to her lashes. Then she sat up, all excited, her cheeks rosy from the warmth of the bed. ‘Gennie! Was there another thunderstorm last night? Were you scared, too? I had a scary dream.’

Gennie propped herself up on one elbow, her long coffee-coloured hair tumbling over her shoulder in a messy cascade.

Like a dark, sexy Rapunzel.

‘Oh no, what did you dream, Abster?’

Abby’s small hands fidgeted with the edge of the duvet. ‘A ghost was holding me down and I couldn’t move. I was so scared.’

Before he could speak, Gennie had already sprung into action. ‘You know I can kick any ghost’s butt, right?’ She lifted her arm and flexed her biceps under her sleep shirt.

His shirt.

Abby’s eyes widened, a tentative smile creeping across her face. ‘Really?’

Gennie grinned, eyes sparkling. ‘Damn straight, kiddo. So next time you have a nightmare, you come to me and we’ll find that dumb ghost and make it wish it never died in the first place. You hear me?’

‘Aye!’ Abby’s fear evaporated in the face of Gennie’s bravado.

This woman wasn’t just cute and tough as nails. Gennie had a heart as big as the forest that surrounded them. She was going to be the death of him. How on earth was he supposed to let her go? The way she handled Abby, the ease with which she chased away her fears…

He wanted to marry her on the spot.

Like an idiot.

Abby patted his face. ‘I want to cuddle Gennie, Da. She’s squishier than you.’

He laughed, the sound rusty from sleep. ‘Is that so, sweet pea?’

Abby nodded. ‘And she smells like biscuits.’

Gennie snorted a laugh. Her eyes met his over Abby’s head. A smile tugged at his lips. ‘Aye, well, I can’t compete with biscuits.’

Abby’s body wriggled as she burrowed into Gennie’s side. She wrapped an arm around his daughter, pulled her close, and his heart was about to burst at the sight. Abby and this incredible woman, tangled up together like they belonged that way.

She looked so fucking perfect with that bedhead and his child in her arms.

‘Can we have pancakes for breakfast again?’ Abby asked.

Nathan smiled. ‘I think that can be arranged.’

‘Guess we’d better get up then.’ Gennie stretched lazily.

But he put his hand around her waist. ‘Not yet.’

Abby grunted and her small hands pushed at them. ‘You two are squeezing me!’

They lay there, the three of them, a tangle of warmth and heartbeats. He savoured every second, every breath, every giggle from his daughter. He memorised the way Gennie’s hair fanned out on the pillow, Abby’s blonde hair weaving into her dark waves, the way her hand rested on his daughter’s back, and how her eyes warmed when they met his. He knew he’d replay this scene in his mind until the day he died.

He let himself drown in the love that filled the room like sunshine.

This right here? This was everything.

Gennie’s fingers wove through Abby’s silky strands.

‘I wish my mum was here to braid my hair,’ Abby said, all wistful. ‘She lives in Boobye. Da tries, but he’s not very good at it.’

Gennie couldn’t help the twinge in her chest. Little Abs deserved all the love, tenderness, and braids in the world. ‘Lucky for you, I’m a braiding expert. Lots of babysitting experience. Maybe I can teach your daddy a thing or two.’

Abby kicked her legs and laughed, the sound like sunshine on a cloudy day. ‘Last time he tried French braids, I looked like a bird’s nest.’

‘Oi, I heard that, ya wee menace,’ Nathan groused from the stove, but there was a tender look in his eyes as he glanced in their direction.

‘Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll give you a private lesson and you can practise on my mane.’

The tips of his ears turned pink, but he managed a curt, ‘Looking forward to it.’

Abby, oblivious to the charged undercurrent, bounced in her seat. ‘Can you do a French braid, Gennie? Pretty please?’

‘Of course, sweetie. One French braid, coming right up.’

As Gennie’s fingers worked their magic, Abby chattered on about her upcoming school project and her words kept spilling out in a giddy rush.

The kid was a total firecracker. Bright, clever, cute as a button, and with an actual sense of humour. Gennie adored her.

Nathan’s phone beeped and burst their little bubble. He frowned at the screen.

‘Everything okay?’

‘Just Fiona. My former agent. Probably wants me to do one of those stupid nostalgia shows.’

‘Nostalgia shows?’

He flipped a pancake. ‘Och, they want me to rehash my glory days, sing a few old songs, talk about my “journey”. Load of bollocks.’

‘So? Then don’t do it.’

He snorted. ‘Easier said than done. Fiona’s persistent. Like a manicured cockroach. She isn’t even really my agent. I was briefly under contract with Starlight for PR stuff. But that was a thousand years ago. Now I’m just database deadwood. Seriously don’t know what her deal is.’

‘Tell her to sod off,’ Abby piped up, her tone matter-of-fact.

He barked out a laugh. ‘Language, young lady.’

Abby stuck out her tongue. ‘Sorry, Da.’

Gennie tied off the braid with a flourish and admired her handiwork. ‘There you go, one French braid fit for the future pirate president of Mars. That was your plan, right?’

‘Yes!’ Abby beamed, her hand reached and her little fingers traced the braid. ‘Thank you, Gennie! You’re the best.’

Her chest swelled with a warmth so toasty, it was a miracle she didn’t spontaneously ignite. She caught Nathan’s eye, saw the adoration written all over his face, and suppressed a gleeful grunt. This moody mountain of a man was such a softie at heart.

Her softie.

The moment was disrupted by a honk from outside. Abby’s ride to school. She grabbed her bag and planted a quick kiss on Nathan’s cheek before dashing out the door.

‘Bye, Da! Bye, Gennie!’

And then she was gone, leaving a sudden stillness in her wake.

He sidled up to her and pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head. ‘I’ll do the dishes, you finish your coffee. Don’t you dare move a muscle. God knows you moved enough last night.’

What a man.

Gennie sank back into the chair, and her shoulders relaxed as she cradled the steaming mug between her palms. This domestic bliss was like a blanket fresh from the dryer. Unfamiliar but so cosy she wanted to wrap herself up in it and hibernate for winter. Soft, warm, and entirely too luxurious for the likes of her.

Up to now, mornings had been for sneaking out before anyone stirred, not homey kitchens with a dishwashing Adonis. Her whole life had been a series of single-serving moments, tossed away like fast-food wrappers. She’d got so used to gripping her pain like brass knuckles, wielding it as both shield and weapon, spent so many years forging emotional Kevlar from the shrapnel of smashed trust and crushed hopes. Ready for fight or flight at the first sign of trouble.

She’d only ever known her heart as a clenched fist.

But here, in this sun-drenched kitchen, her white-knuckled grip loosened for good.

This was something else. It was like being stuffed with cotton candy, all fluffy and sweet and deliciously decadent. This tranquillity, this feeling of belonging, of home. Like the world had been put on mute, leaving only the clanging of dishes and the swish of sudsy water as the soundtrack to her thoughts. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to just…be. No chaos nipping at her heels. No fight, no flight.

She sipped her coffee and let the hot, bitter liquid scorch a path down her throat. It grounded her, reminded her this was real. Nathan was real.

She watched his back as he scrubbed, admiring the way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt like waves on a stormy sea. Strong, solid, dependable. So different from the usual suspects she’d tangled with. The polar opposite of Daniel.

And he was all hers.

The thought sent flames zapping down her spine.

Holy shitballs, watching him do something as mundane as dishes should not be this erotic. It was like porn for the domestically challenged.

Gennie shifted in her seat at the exquisite ache between her thighs. Good lord, the things that man could do with his tongue.

Nathan was a master at making her come alive – body and soul – and she felt like she was seeing the world in full colour for the first time. The yellow of the butter dish, the green of the herbs on the windowsill, the blue of Nathan’s eyes when he glanced over his shoulder and winked. Fucking winked, like some romance novel hero come to life.

Yeah, she could get used to this.

Her phone chimed. The sound sliced the comfortable silence. She glanced at the screen and saw a text from Melody. Five shock emojis and a link.

Curious, Gennie clicked on it – and her face turned to stone.