him onto her lap and cuddled him with one arm while she made a couple of quick sketches in the notebook she always carried in her handbag.
Dylan put the coffees on the table, out of Tyler’s reach. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘Just noting down a couple of ideas for jewellery.’
He looked intrigued. ‘So this sort of thing is where you get your inspiration?’
‘Sort of,’ she hedged.
‘Sorry, is this a creative thing? You don’t like to talk about work in progress?’
‘No, it’s fine.’ She felt relaxed enough with him to know that he wasn’t like her exes—he was asking because he was interested, not because he wanted her to stop or thought he had better ideas that she ought to go along with. She pushed her notebook across the table to him. ‘Have a look through if you want to. Sometimes I take pictures, sometimes I sketch.’
He flicked through the pages. ‘That spiderweb reminds me a bit of that necklace you made.’
‘With the heart in the middle rather than the spider?’ She smiled. ‘You’re right, that was the inspiration. It was a frosty morning and the cobwebs were really visible. They looked incredibly pretty, delicate yet strong at the same time.’
He reached the page where she’d sketched a couple of pictures of Tyler asleep. ‘I had no idea you could draw. I mean, I knew you designed stuff, but that’s not the same as a portrait. These are really good.’
‘Thank you. I was working while he was napping and I just thought he looked so cute and peaceful. I couldn’t resist it.’
He handed the book back to her. ‘Very cute. So you carry a notebook all the time?’
‘Yes. Because you never know when you’re going to see something that sets off an idea,’ she explained. ‘Though I guess it’s not quite like that with your job.’
He smiled. ‘No, it’s talking to the client that does that.’ He indicated the slice of chocolate cake he’d bought. ‘Would you like some of this?’
‘Thanks, but I’m fine.’ Mr Stuffy had changed absolutely, Emmy thought. A couple of months ago, he would barely have spoken to her. Now he was offering to share cake with her, for all the world as if they were partners.
Though she knew better than to kid herself. Yes, Dylan was attractive. Especially when you saw past the superficial eye-candy stuff to the real smile, the one that lit up his eyes. He could tempt her to break every single one of her rules and fall in love with him.
But then what? She couldn’t take the risk. If she had an affair with Dylan, she knew it would be amazing at first. But then it would go the way of all her other relationships and end in tears. Hers.
Dylan flicked through the leaflet he’d picked up at the counter. ‘Did you know that a butterfly tastes through its feet?’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘You expect me to believe that?’
‘Seriously, a butterfly can’t bite or chew food. It just sucks everything up with a proboscis, so it has to taste things through sensors in its feet.’
‘Did you hear that, Ty?’ She traced circles on his palm, making the baby giggle.
‘Round and round the garden,’ Dylan said.
He knew this? Then again, she’d noticed what he’d been reading. He’d left child development books in the living room. Being Dylan, he took things seriously and did it the geek way. ‘Like a teddy bear,’ she said.
‘One step.’ He put a finger on Tyler’s wrist.
‘Two step.’ She put a finger on Tyler’s elbow.
‘And a tickle under there.’ He tickled Tyler under the armpit, and the baby’s rich chuckle rang out.
‘Come to me so Em can drink her coffee?’ Dylan asked, holding his arms out.
Tyler echoed him, holding his arms out to be picked up. ‘Dih-dih!’
Dylan scooped him up. ‘How did he do with the banana?’
‘He ate about three-quarters of it.’
‘Good boy. Is the milk in his bag?’
‘Sure is.’ And how Dylan had come on as a father, she thought. In the early days, he’d been wary, unsure of himself. Now, he was confident, and Tyler responded to that. The baby clearly adored him.
She could easily adore Dylan, too—the man he’d become.
But she needed to keep her burgeoning feelings under control. This was as good as it was going to get, so she was going to enjoy it for what it was and not let herself wish for more. Even though, secretly, she did wish for more.
They really did look cute together, Tyler cuddled on Dylan’s lap, holding his own bottle and yet with Dylan’s hand held just under it as a safety net. She couldn’t resist taking a picture on her phone. ‘That’s lovely. I’ll send it to Ally’s and Pete’s parents.’
‘I was talking to them the other night,’ Dylan said. ‘They told me you write to them every week with pictures and updates.’
She shrugged. ‘Well, they don’t really use email. It’s nearly the same, just that I print it out rather than send it electronically. It’s not a big deal.’
‘It’s nice of you to bother, though.’
‘Just because they’ve lost their children, it doesn’t mean they have to lose their grandson as well,’ she said. Then an idea hit her. ‘Would you like to send a copy of this photo to your mum? I could send it to your phone, or even directly to her if that’s easier for you.’
‘No, it’s OK.’ But it was as if she’d thrown up a brick wall between them, because he went quiet on her.
What had she said?
They’d talked about sending a picture to Tyler’s grandparents and she’d suggested sending it to his own mother, too. And it wasn’t the first time he’d gone quiet on her after the subject of his parents had cropped up.
Clearly there was some kind of rift there, and she’d just trampled on a really sore spot.
‘I’m sorry, Dylan. I didn’t mean to...’ Help. Given that the intensely private man seemed to be back, how could she phrase this without making it worse? ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again.
He sighed. ‘It’s not your fault. Sorry. I’m stressing about the contract. I shouldn’t take it out on you.’
She let it go, but still she wondered. She’d noticed that Dylan’s mother had never visited or even called the house. He’d said before that his mother was travelling, so maybe she was somewhere with poor phone connections, or maybe she just called him during office hours, when he wasn’t in the house. But it was as if almost everything to do with Dylan’s family was in a box marked ‘extra private, do not touch’.
They
