would be played, what they were eating, but instead he had a question. ‘Bridgette is your girlfriend, isn’t she?’
And normally Dominic would have laughed, would have made Chris laugh with an answer like ‘One of them’, but instead he hesitated. ‘Yes.’
And usually they would have chatted for a bit—until Chris’s Friday night kicked off and he was called out to come and join the party, but instead Chris was far from happy and told Dominic that he had to go and then asked another question.
‘When are you properly coming back?’
‘I’ve told you—I’m coming back soon for a few days,’ Dominic said.
It wasn’t, from Chris’s gruff farewell, a very good answer.
‘Right.’ He came out of his room and saw that Bridgette was writing a note. ‘Finally…Let’s go and get something to eat. I’ve still got the sound of babies crying ringing in my ears.’
‘Actually—’ she turned ‘—my sister just called.’ Back on went that smile. ‘Things didn’t work out in Bendigo and she’s back. She’s a bit upset and she’s asked if I can have Harry tonight. I called and asked my parents, but they’re out.’
‘Oh.’ He tried to be logical. After all, apart from one time in the corridor he’d never even seen Harry, and if her sister was upset, well, she needed to go. And even if more children was the last thing he needed tonight, she really had helped out with Chris and, yes, he did want to see her. ‘We can take him out with us.’
‘It’s nearly eight o’clock,’ Bridgette said, though when Harry was with her sister his bedtime was erratic at best.
‘It’s the Spaniard in me,’ Dominic said.
Courtney, Dominic thought as he sat in the passenger seat while Bridgette collected Harry, didn’t look that upset. But he said nothing as Bridgette drove. They’d gone out in her car because of baby seats and things, but they drove along to the area near his house and parked. It was cool but still light as they walked. She felt more than a little awkward. Walking along, pushing a stroller on a Friday night with Dominic felt terribly strange.
They sat out in a nice pavement café. They were spoiled for choice, but settled for Spanish and ate tapas. It was a lovely evening, but it was cool, even for summer. For Bridgette it was made extra bearable by one of Dominic’s black turtlenecks and a big gas heater blazing above them. It was nice to sit outside and Harry seemed content, especially as Bridgette fed him crema catalana. Dominic had suggested it, a sort of cold custard with a caramel top, and Harry was loving his first Spanish dessert, but the mood wasn’t as relaxed as it usually was. Dominic was lovely to Harry, there was no question about that, but Bridgette knew this wasn’t quite the night he’d had planned.
‘So, what’s Courtney upset about?’ He finally broached the subject
‘I didn’t really ask.’
‘Does she do this a lot?’
Bridgette shot him a glance. ‘It’s one night, Dominic. I’m sorry for the invasion.’ She was brittle in her defence and he assumed she was comparing him with Paul. She changed the subject. ‘Have you been to Spain?’
‘We used to go there in the summer holidays,’ Dominic said. ‘Well, their winter,’ he clarified, because in Australia summer meant Christmas time. ‘My father had a lot of social things on at that time, you know, what with work, so Chris and I would stay with Abuela.’
‘And your mum?’ Bridgette asked.
Dominic gave her an old-fashioned look, then a wry grin. ‘Nope, she stayed here, looking stunning next to Dad. And I spent a year there when I finished school. I still want to go back, maybe work there for a couple of years at some point. It’s an amazing place.’
And there were two conversations going on, as she ate thick black olives and fried baby squid, and he dipped bread in the most delicious lime hummus, and Harry, full up on the custard, fell asleep.
‘I’d better get him back.’
They walked back along the beach road, a crowded beach full of Friday night fun, except Dominic was pensive. He was trying to remember the world before Chris had come along and Bridgette was for once quiet too.
She drove him back to his place. Harry was still asleep, and she didn’t want to wake him up by coming in. Dominic had to be at work tomorrow, so there was no way really he could stay at hers.
And they kissed in the car, but it was different this time.
‘Not your usual Friday night,’ she said. ‘Home by ten, alone!’
He didn’t argue—she was, after all, speaking the truth.
RATHER than change things, the situation brought what was already coming to a head.
Dominic didn’t know how best to broach what was on his mind.
He was used to straight talking, but on this Tuesday morning, lying in bed with Bridgette warm and asleep beside him, he didn’t know where to start. He’d been putting this discussion off for a couple of days now, which wasn’t at all like him.
‘Hey, Bridgette.’ He turned and rolled into her, felt her sleepy body start to wake, and he was incredibly tempted to forget what had been on his mind a few seconds ago and to concentrate instead on what was on his mind now. ‘When do you finish?’
‘Mmm…?’ She didn’t want questions, didn’t want to think about anything other than the delicious feel of Dominic behind her. She could feel his mouth nuzzling the back of her neck and she wanted to just sink into the sensations he so readily provided, to let him make love to her, but automatically she reached for the phone that was on her bedside drawer, checked there were no messages she had missed and frowned at how early it was—it wasn’t even six a.m.
‘It’s not even six,’ she grumbled, because they hadn’t got to bed till one—an evening spent watching movies and eating chocolate, laughing and making love, because neither wanted to talk properly.
‘I know that you’re off next weekend, but when do you actually finish?’
‘I’ve got a long weekend starting Thursday at three p.m. precisely.’ She wriggled at the pleasurable thought. ‘I’m not back till Wednesday when I start nights. Why?’
‘Just thinking.’
Though he didn’t want to think at the moment, it could surely wait for now, Dominic decided, because his hands were at her breasts, and how he loved them, and her stomach and her round bottom. She was the first woman he loved waking up with.
It was a strange admission for him, but he usually loathed chatter in the morning. Arabella had driven him mad then too.
‘Do you want coffee?’ Arabella would ask every morning.
It was just the most pointless question.
Okay,
