a couple of days more remained. He was going to miss this; holding Matthew in the carriage, playing with him on the picnic blanket when they stopped, carrying him upstairs and kissing him goodnight in the evenings, watching him sleep.
He finished the tale. ‘The people chose the little duck with the loudest quack to be their king and everyone lived happily ever after.’ He looked down into Matthew’s slack little face—the baby was asleep. His grandmother’s estate was an hour’s ride away, hardly an insurmountable distance, but it was apart—too far to be part of little rituals like this.
Even now, his throat felt a bit thick at the thought of not being there three mornings from now when Matthew would wake, happy and eager for the day, that adorable little smile on his face, that gurgling laugh on his cupid lips. How had that level of attachment happened so quickly? Somehow, this little fellow had grabbed hold of his heartstrings and wouldn’t let go.
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