‘And mac and cheese,’ Cameron added.
But Max shook his head. ‘Not Daddy’s,’ he said sadly. ‘It comes in a box. I don’t like it...’
Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘This is your fault, Grace. I have at least half a dozen boxes of Easy Mac ’n’ Cheese in my pantry—my go-to quick favourite dinner for the boys—and they’re useless. Even when I try adding bacon.’
‘Oh, dear...’ Grace was smiling. ‘Guess I’d better teach you how to make cheese sauce, then?’
His nod was solemn. ‘I think so. You did promise.’
Her cheeks were already pink from the cold but Charles had the impression that the colour had deepened even more suddenly.
‘I think I promised to write it down for you.’
‘Ah...but I learn so much better by doing something. Do you remember that class we did on suturing once? When we had that pig skin to practise on?’
‘Yes... It was fun.’
‘Tricky, though. I’d stayed up the night before, reading all about exactly where to grasp a needle with the needle driver and wrapping the suture around it and then switching hand positions to make the knots. I even watched a whole bunch of videos.’
‘Ha! I knew you always stayed up all night studying. It was why I had so much trouble keeping up with you.’
‘My point is, actually doing it was a completely different story. I felt like I had two left hands. You were way better at it.’
‘Not by the end of the class. You aced it.’
‘Because I was doing it. Not reading about it, or watching it.’
Why was he working so hard to persuade her to do something that she might not be comfortable with? Because it felt important—just like the idea of spending more time with her?
There was something about the way her gaze slid away from his that made him want to touch her arm. To tell her that this was okay. That she could trust him.
But maybe he managed to communicate that, anyway, in the briefest glance she returned to, because her breath came out in a cloudy puff again—the way it had when she’d sighed after confessing her dream of having a Christmas sleigh ride in the snow. Her chin bobbed in a single nod.
‘I’ll pick up some ingredients on my way home.’
‘We don’t want to go home, Daddy,’ Cameron said. ‘We want to go to the playground.’
With their determined pedalling efforts, their feet probably weren’t as cold as his, Charles decided. And with some running and climbing added in, they were going to be very tired by this evening. They’d probably fall asleep as soon as they’d had their dinner and...and that would be the perfect opportunity to talk to Grace, wouldn’t it?
Really talk to Grace.
He smiled at his boys. ‘Okay. Let’s head for the playground.’
‘And Gace,’ Max added.
But she shook her head. ‘I can’t, sorry, sweetheart. I have to take Horse home now.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Stefan and Jerome are going to Skype us and talk to him, like they do every Sunday. And he needs his hair brushed first. Oh...I’ve just had an idea.’ She held the dog’s lead out to Charles. ‘Can you stand with the boys? I’ll take a photo I can send them, so they can see that he’s been having fun in the park today.’
It took a moment or two to get two small boys, two bikes, a large fluffy dog and a tall man into a cohesive enough group to photograph. And then a passer-by stopped and insisted on taking the phone from Grace’s hands.
‘You need one of the whole family,’ he said firmly.
Grace looked startled. And then embarrassed as she caught Charles’s gaze.
It reminded him of Davenport family photos. Where everyone had to look as though they were a happy family and hide the undercurrents and secret emotions that were too private to share. The kind of image that would be taken very soon for their annual Thanksgiving gathering?
Charles was good at this. He’d been doing it for a very long time. And he knew it was far easier to just get it over with than try and explain why it wasn’t a good idea.
So he smiled at Grace and pulled Houston a bit closer to make a space for her to stand beside him, behind the boys on their bikes.
‘Come on,’ he encouraged. ‘Before we all freeze to death here.’
Strangely, when Grace was in place a moment later, with Charles’s arm draped over her shoulders, it didn’t feel at all like the uncomfortable publicity shots of the New York Davenports destined to appear in some glossy magazine.
It was, in fact, surprisingly easy to find the ‘big smile’ that the stranger requested.
* * *
It wasn’t a case of her heart conflicting with her head, which would have been far simpler to deal with.
This was more like her heart arranging itself into two separate divisions on either side of what was more like a solid wall than a battle line.
There were moments when Grace could even believe there was a door hidden in that wall, somewhere, and time with Charles felt like she was moving along, tapping on that solid surface, waiting for the change in sound that would tell her she was close.
Moments like this, as she stood beside Charles in his kitchen, supervising his first attempt at making a cheese sauce.
‘Add the milk gradually and just keep stirring.’
‘It’s all lumpy.’
‘It’ll be fine. Stir a bit faster. And have faith.’
‘Hmm...okay...’ Charles peered into the pot, frowning. ‘How did your Skype session go?’
‘Houston wasn’t terribly co-operative. He didn’t want to wake up. I showed them the photo from the park, though, and they said to say “hi” and wish you a happy Thanksgiving.’
‘That’s nice.’ Charles added some more milk to his sauce. ‘Where are they going to be celebrating? Still in Italy?’
‘Yes. They’re fallen head over heels in love with the Amalfi coast. They’ve bought a house there.’
‘What? How’s that going to work?’
‘They’ve got this idea that they could spend six months in Europe and six months here every year and never have winters.’
‘But what about Houston?’
‘I guess he’ll have to get used to travelling.’ Grace pointed at the pot. ‘Keep stirring or lumps will sneak in. You can add the
