Chapter 41

Icy dread plays her fingers along my bones when I see Dad in the doorway. It takes a couple of breaths to realise that the reaction isn't to him, but to the expectation that Mum would appear next to him. So far she hasn't and curiosity gets the better of me. I rise and walk over to him. A few seconds later Nick is by my side, his warm hand on my back helping to dispel the chill still keeping her hold on me. Claire appears on the other side, my protectors flanking me. I'm grateful to them. I'm tense and worried, but I don't make a move. He's come here for a reason and I'm not going to make it easy for him.

"Hello son," he states simply. I can't stand it any longer. I need to know.

"Where is she?" I demand, looking round my dad, expecting her to show up.

"Your mother?" My dad's shoulders sag a little. I notice he looks older and worry lines crease his face. "Probably somewhere in the middle of the ocean by now."

"What?" I don't understand.

"She wanted to go on a cruise, follow her hero, Bruce de Silva. He'd told of it when we met him in London. She seemed happy, and I agreed to it, but..." He looks around, noticing how many people there are about. "Can we go somewhere a bit quieter?"

Nick leads the way into the kitchen, which is currently unoccupied. I'm sure someone will be in to fill another teapot soon, but for now we have it to ourselves. When the door closes behind us, my dad starts speaking again.

"I'm sorry." He looks between Claire and me. "To both of you, but especially you, Darcy. I shouldn't have allowed her to behave like that towards you. When it came time for us to get on the cruise ship, I realised I couldn't do it. I couldn't sit there night after night listening to her prattle on about her achievements at raising her children."

I hear Claire's small gasp beside me. My dad must have heard it too, as he turns to Claire. "She told everyone you were a high-powered marketing executive and how she'd encouraged and helped you to get there."

"Whaaa—" Claire screeches and then stops, letting out a huge puff of air. She speaks again, this time her voice quieter, but full of venom. "She never once encouraged me. She barely acknowledged what I did, and she certainly never told me she was proud of me. I did everything despite her!"

"When we were standing on the quayside, I couldn't do it. I knew that if I stepped foot on that ship I'd be condoning her behaviour—which I've done too much of already—and I knew that I'd blow any chances I might have of reconciliation with my children, and that seemed the most important thing to me. It is the most important thing to me now."

No one speaks at his words, as all of us are locked in our own thoughts about what he's saying. My head is a jumble, then he continues.

"So I made her choose." He gives a small, sad shrug. "I said that I wanted to see my children, to have the chance to make it up to them and, if they'd let me, be a part of their future. I said that if she wanted that too, then she could come with me, but if she didn't, then she could get on the ship—but to not come looking for me when she got back."

It's my turn to gasp, but I think we're all stunned into silence.

My dad sighs. "She hesitated for about three seconds before turning away and walking up the gangway."

He presses his lips together in a grim look before letting out another sigh. "All I felt at the time was an overwhelming sense of relief."

"Oh, Dad," Claire says, her voice cracking, and she hugs him. I wipe my palms down my trousers. I want to hug him and forgive him, but there's a part of me that still hesitates.

"It's okay, Darcy," he says tensely. "I know I have to earn your trust and forgiveness."

I just nod, pleased he understands it isn't so easy for me to forgive, but I can make a start. "Please stay Dad, I'd like you to."

"Thanks, son." His voice sounds relieved.

We seat him next to Nick's gran, because Nick said that she would be the best person to keep him in line. Not that he needs it. He truly does look repentant. I have no idea what he plans to do, but that's for him to decide. I do feel glad that he's made the effort, and I know I'll be able to let him back into my life in time.

"You know that looks like a weird case of ‘meet the parents,'" Nick says to me sometime later. I look over to the table where my dad and Nick's gran have been joined by Nick's parents. They're all laughing, which is a good sign. They've all met before, years ago, but this is the first time since Nick and I have been together.

"They aren't discussing us, are they?" I ask, suddenly worried.

"Oh, probably." Nick laughs and drags me away to talk to Riley and Kieran, who have also shown up to lend some support. Now we've finished the renovations, we have a bit more spare time. Kieran wants to plan another outing and picnic in the Peak District, maybe with an overnight stop somewhere, which would be fun. I let him chatter on with his plans; his enthusiasm is always turned up to eleven. I tune him out as I look round the room. From Nick's friends, who are now my friends too, to our families, who are getting on really well. To new friends, such as Justin and Mark, and to the clients who have stood by us. We've lost a few, as Nick predicted, but he's right, we don't want their business, nor do we need it, as we have others more than willing to take their place. I feel blessed to have this. To have Nick, family, friends, and a future. I catch hold of Nick's hand, causing him to look down at our hands and then up at me with his most brilliant smile.

It's getting late, and we've just finished tidying up. Most of our family and friends stayed to help clean up, from putting away the chairs and tables, sweeping up, and washing the dishes. Nick's parents left a few minutes ago and we'll follow them when we've locked up.

I give a final look round in the kitchen and the changing room before heading into the studio where Nick is closing the folding doors out to the garden.

"Well, that was a day and a half," I say, as he meets me in the middle of the room.

"It was," he says. "I can't go through many days like that."

"But we've created something good, haven't we?" I ask.

"It's going to be amazing." He wraps one arm around my waist, touching his lips softly to mine.

I place my arms around his neck. "You have a house."

"We have a house." He huffs a little laugh, as if he still can't believe it. "Do you know what's the first thing we're going to buy for our house?"

"What's that?"

"A bed."

"A big bed?"

"Such a big-ass bed." He kisses me gently again and pulls me close. "And I'm not going to let you out of it for a week."

Excitement at the thought courses through me as I breathe, "Yes, please." And I fuse my mouth to his, slipping my tongue in, and deepening our connection. My hips have a life of their own as they grind into him, and I feel his reaction. I let a small laugh escape, and he nips at my lip, eliciting a groan I can't hold in, and he growls in response.

"How soon can they deliver one, do you think?" I ask, breaking the kiss.

"Sadly, not by the time we get home." He looks rueful. "But tomorrow, for sure." He gives me a cheeky grin.

Then he takes his phone out, and I see him scrolling until I hear the opening notes of "Open Arms" by Journey playing through the sound system.

"Darcy Franklin," he says softly. "Love of my life. Shall we dance?"