Pros and cons. He didn’t want to live with anyone. He was still licking his wounds from the end of his marriage—ironic, considering that he’d been the one to end it. And even more ironic that, if Nadine had waited six more months before issuing that ultimatum, she would’ve had her dream.
But it was too late, now. He couldn’t go back. He didn’t love her anymore, and he knew she was seeing someone else. Someone who was prepared to give her what he wouldn’t. What hurt most now was that he’d failed at being a husband.
That left him with a slightly less complicated situation; though it didn’t make his decision any easier. If he did have to live with someone else, an emotional, flaky woman and a tiny baby would be right at the bottom of his list. He had a business to run—something that took up as much of his energy as he could give. He didn’t have time for a baby.
But...
If he backed out, if he let Emmy shoulder all the responsibilities and look after the baby, he’d only be able to block out the guilt for a short time. It would eat away at him, to the point where it would affect his business decisions and therefore the livelihoods of everyone who worked for him. Besides, how could he live with himself if he abandoned the child his best friend had loved so dearly?
Given how often he’d been dumped as a child, how could he do the same thing to this baby?
He couldn’t let Tyler down. Couldn’t break a promise he’d made.
Which meant he had to find a way of coexisting with Emmy.
She’d said earlier that they wouldn’t be living together, just sharing a house. They could lead completely separate lives. All they’d need to do was to set up a rota for childcare and then brief each other at a handover. He could do that. OK, so he’d have to delegate more at work, to carve out that extra time, but it was doable. His flat was on a short-term lease, so that wasn’t a problem. And he had no intention of getting involved with anyone romantically, so that wouldn’t be a problem in the future, either.
So the decision was easy, after all.
He walked back to the café, and was slightly surprised to find that Emmy was already there. Or maybe she’d never left. Whatever.
‘Coffee?’ he asked. ‘You paid last time, so this one’s on me.’
‘Thank you.’
He ordered coffee then joined her at the table. ‘If we’re going to share a house and Tyler’s care, then we need to sort out some ground rules. Set up a rota.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Obviously. Childcare and housework.’
‘Not housework. We’ll get a housekeeper.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t afford to pay a housekeeper.’
‘I can. So that’s settled.’
‘No. This is shared equally. Time and bills.’
Did she have to be so stubborn about this? It was a practical decision. The idea was to look at how they could make this work, with the least pain to both of them. Why do something he didn’t have time for and didn’t enjoy, when he could pay someone to do it? ‘Look, I’m going to have a hard enough time fitting a baby into my work schedule, without adding in extra stuff. And I’m sure it’s the same for you. It makes sense to pay someone to clean the house and take some of the pressure off us.’
‘I can probably stretch to paying someone to clean for a couple of hours a week,’ she said, ‘but that’s as far as it goes.’
‘So you’re saying we both have to cook?’
‘Well, obviously. It’s a bit stupid, both of us cooking separately. It makes sense to share.’ She stared at him. ‘Are you telling me you can’t cook?’
He shrugged. ‘I shared a house with Pete at university.’ And Emmy must know how hopeless Pete was—had been, Dylan corrected himself with a jolt—in the kitchen. ‘So it was starve, eat nothing but junk, or learn to cook.’
‘And what did you opt for?’
Did she really have to ask? He narrowed his eyes at her, just to make the point that she was being overpicky. ‘I learned to cook. I only do basic stuff—don’t expect Michelin-star standard—but it’ll be edible and you won’t get food poisoning.’ He paused as a nasty thought struck him. ‘Does that mean you don’t cook?’
‘I can do the basics,’ she said. ‘I shared a house with Ally at university.’
And Ally was an excellent cook. Dylan had never turned down the offer of a meal at his best friend’s; he was pretty sure it must’ve been the same for Emmy. ‘And she did all the cooking?’ he asked.
‘Our deal was that she cooked and I cleaned.’ Emmy shrugged. ‘Though I picked up a few tips from her along the way.’
But she wasn’t claiming to be a superchef. Which made two of them. Basic food it would have to be. Which wasn’t much change from the way he’d been living, the last six months. ‘Right. So we’ll pay a cleaner, and have a rota for childcare and cooking.’
He took a sip of his coffee, though it didn’t do much to clear his head. Three days ago, he’d been just an ordinary workaholic. No commitments—well, almost no commitments, he amended mentally. No commitments once his divorce papers came through and he signed them.
Today, it was a different world. His best friend had died; and it looked as if he’d be sharing the care of his godson with a woman who’d always managed to rub him up the wrong way. Not the life he’d planned or wanted. But he was just going to have to make the best of it.
‘So who looks after Tyler when we’re at work?’ he asked.
‘We take turns.’
‘I’m not with you.’
‘Ally wasn’t planning to go back to work until after his second birthday. She wanted to be a stay-at-home mum and look after her own baby.’ Emmy looked awkward. ‘I don’t think she would’ve wanted us to put him in day care or get a nanny.’
‘We’re not Ally and Pete, so we’re going to have to make a decision that works for both of us,’ Dylan pointed out. ‘We both have a business to run. Taking time off work isn’t going to happen. Not if we want to keep our businesses running.’
‘Unless,’ Emmy suggested, ‘we work flexible hours. Delegate, if we have to.’
‘Delegate?’ He frowned. ‘I thought you were a sole trader?’
‘I am, but you’re not.’
He almost asked her if she was using the royal ‘we’, and stopped himself just in time. That wasn’t fair. She was trying. And he bit back the snippy comment that she was trying in more than one sense of the word.
‘Are you a morning or an evening person?’ she asked.
He usually worked both. That had been another of Nadine’s complaints: Dylan was a workaholic who was always in the office or in his study. ‘Either.’
