Bound by a Baby. Kate Hardy

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      ‘We can be flexible,’ she said. ‘But if you’re late back one day, then you’ll have to be home much earlier, the next day, to give me that time back.’ She shrugged. ‘There might be times when I have meetings and need you to take over from me. So I guess we’re going to have to be flexible, work as a team, and cover for each other when we need to.’

      Work as a team with a woman he’d always disliked. A woman who reminded him of the worst aspects of his mother—the sort who’d dump her responsibilities on someone else with no notice so she could drift off somewhere to ‘find herself’.

      Dylan pinched himself, just to check that this wasn’t some peculiar nightmare. But it hurt. So there was no waking up from this situation.

      ‘OK. We’ll sort out a rota between us.’ He paused. ‘I still don’t want to live with you, but I guess the only option is to share the house.’ It didn’t mean they had to share any time together outside the handover slots.

      ‘So when do we move in to Pete and Ally’s?’ she asked

      ‘I have to sort out the lease on my flat,’ he said.

      ‘And I’ll need to talk to the bank about subletting my flat, to make sure it doesn’t affect the mortgage.’

      Dylan was surprised. He hadn’t thought Emmy would be together enough to buy her own place.

      ‘And they might be able to put me in touch with a good letting agency,’ she finished.

      She’d obviously thought this through. Then again, she’d had time to think about it. The social worker had talked to her about it already.

      ‘So we could move in tomorrow.’

      He’d rather not move in at all, but he had no choice. Not if he was going to carry out his duty. ‘Tomorrow.’ He paused. ‘Look—we really need to put Tyler first. We don’t like each other, but we’ve agreed to make an effort for his sake. What happens if we really can’t get on?’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘In a business, if you hire someone in a senior role, you’d have a trial period to make sure you suited each other. Then you’d review it and decide on the best way forward.’

      ‘This isn’t a job, Dylan.’

      ‘I know, but I think a trial period might be the fairest way for all of us. Give it three months. See if we can make it work.’

      She nodded. ‘And, if we can’t, then you’ll agree that I’ll have sole care of Tyler?’

      He wasn’t ready to agree to that. ‘We’ll review it,’ he said. ‘See what the viable options are.’

      ‘OK. Three months.’ She paused. ‘But if anything big comes up, we discuss it before the situation gets out of hand.’

      That worked for him. ‘Agreed.’

      ‘So that’s settled.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Before we go any further, I need to know something. Is there anyone who’d be upset about us sharing a house?’

      He frowned. ‘I’ve already told you, I’m separated from Nadine. It won’t be a problem.’

      ‘What about the woman you had an affair with?’

      He stared at her in disbelief. ‘What woman?’

      ‘Oh, come on. It’s the main reason why marriages break down. Someone has an affair. Usually the man.’

      Was she really that cynical?

      Had that happened to her?

      He couldn’t remember Pete or Ally ever talking about going to Emmy’s wedding, but at the end of the day a marriage certificate was just a piece of paper. Maybe Emmy had been living with someone who’d let her down in that way. ‘Not that it’s any of your business why my marriage broke up, but for the record neither of us had an affair,’ he said tightly.

      Colour stained her cheeks, ‘I apologise.’

      Which was something, he supposed. ‘There’s nobody who would be affected by us sharing a house,’ he said quietly.

      Or was there another reason why she’d asked? A way to introduce the subject, maybe, because there was someone in her life who’d be upset? ‘If it’s a problem for you, I’m happy to—’

      ‘There’s nobody,’ she cut in.

      Was it his imagination, or did she suddenly look tired and miserable and lonely?

      No. He was just reflecting how he felt on her. Tired and miserable, because he’d barely slept since the news of the crash; and lonely, because the one person Dylan could’ve talked to about this—well, he’d been in that crash and he wasn’t here anymore.

      ‘Though I could do without a string of dates being paraded through the house,’ she added.

      He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not quite divorced yet. Do you really think I’m dating?’ Despite the fact that he knew his almost-ex wife was, he wasn’t.

      She grimaced. ‘Sorry. I take that back. It’s not your fault I have a rubbish taste in men. I shouldn’t tar you with the same brush as them.’

      He’d been right, then. Someone had let her down. More than one, he’d guess.

      Dylan had never noticed before, probably because he’d been more preoccupied with being annoyed by her, but Emmy Jacobs was actually pretty. Slender, with a fine bone structure highlighted by her gamine haircut. Her hair was defiantly plum: not a natural shade, but it suited her, bringing out the depths in her huge grey eyes.

      Though what on earth was he doing, thinking about Emmy in those sorts of terms?

      Better put it down to the shock of bereavement. He and Emmy might be about to share a house and the care of a baby, but that was as far as it would go. They’d be lucky to keep things civil between them. And he definitely wasn’t in the market for any kind of relationship. Been there, done that, and failed spectacularly. It had taught him to steer clear, in future. He was better off on his own. It meant there was nobody to disappoint. Nobody to walk away, the way his mother had and Nadine had.

      ‘I assume you have a set of keys to Pete and Ally’s house?’ he asked.

      She nodded. ‘You, too?’

      ‘So I could keep an eye on the place while they’re not there. For emergencies. Which I always thought would be a burst pipe or something like that. Not...’ His throat closed, and he couldn’t get the words out. For the first time in years, he was totally speechless.

      To his surprise, Emmy reached across the table to take his hand and squeezed it briefly. With sympathy, not pity. ‘Me, too. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and discover that this is all just some incredibly realistic nightmare and everything’s just fine. Except I’ve woken up too many times already and found out that it’s not.’

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