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CHAPTER TWO

FRESH AIR. THAT would help, for starters. Dylan found the nearest park and walked, ignoring the noise from tourists and families.

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.’

‘I prefer working in the evenings. So, if you’re not bothered, how about you go in early and I’ll take care of Tyler; and then you take over from me at, say, half-three, so I can get on with my work?’

‘And what if I need to have a late meeting?’

‘We can be flexible,’ she said. ‘But if you’re late back one day, then you’ll have to be home much earlier, the next day, to give me that time back.’ She shrugged. ‘There might be times when I have meetings and need you to take over from me. So I guess we’re going to have to be flexible, work as a team, and cover for each other when we need to.’

Work as a team with a woman he’d always disliked. A woman who reminded him of the worst aspects of his mother—the sort who’d dump her responsibilities on someone else with no notice so she could drift off somewhere to ‘find herself’.

Dylan pinched himself, just to check that this wasn’t some peculiar nightmare. But it hurt. So there was no waking up from this situation.

‘OK. We’ll sort out a rota between us.’ He paused. ‘I still don’t want to live with you, but I guess the only option is to share the house.’ It didn’t mean they had to share any time together outside the handover slots.

‘So when do we move in to Pete and Ally’s?’ she asked

‘I have to sort out the lease on my flat,’ he said.

‘And I’ll need to talk to the bank about subletting my flat, to make sure it doesn’t affect the mortgage.’

Dylan was surprised. He hadn’t thought Emmy would be together enough to buy her own place.

‘And they might be able to put me in touch with a good letting agency,’ she finished.

She’d obviously thought this through. Then again, she’d had time to think about it. The social worker had talked to her about it already.

‘So we could move in tomorrow.’

He’d rather not move in at all, but he had no choice. Not if he was going to carry out his duty. ‘Tomorrow.’ He paused. ‘Look—we really need to put Tyler first. We don’t like each other, but we’ve agreed to make an effort for his sake. What happens if we really can’t get on?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘In a business, if you hire someone in a senior role, you’d have a trial period to make sure you suited each other. Then you’d review it and decide on the best way forward.’

‘This isn’t a job, Dylan.’

‘I know, but I think a trial period might be the fairest way for all of us. Give it three months. See if we can make it work.’

She nodded. ‘And, if we can’t, then you’ll agree that I’ll have sole care of Tyler?’

He wasn’t ready to agree to that. ‘We’ll review it,’ he said. ‘See what the viable options are.’

‘OK. Three months.’ She paused. ‘But if anything big comes up, we discuss it before the situation gets out of hand.’

That worked for him. ‘Agreed.’

‘So that’s settled.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Before we go any further, I need to know something. Is there anyone who’d be upset about us sharing a house?’

He frowned. ‘I’ve already told you, I’m separated from Nadine. It won’t be a problem.’

‘What about the woman you had an affair with?’

He stared at her in disbelief. ‘What woman?’

‘Oh, come on. It’s the main reason why marriages break down. Someone has an affair. Usually the man.’

Was she really that cynical?

Had that happened to her?

He couldn’t remember Pete or Ally ever talking about going to Emmy’s wedding, but at the end of the day a marriage certificate was just a piece of paper. Maybe Emmy had been living with someone who’d let her down in that way. ‘Not that it’s any of your business why my marriage broke up, but for the record neither of us had an affair,’ he said tightly.

Colour stained her cheeks, ‘I apologise.’

Which was something, he supposed. ‘There’s nobody who would be affected by us sharing a house,’ he said quietly.

Or was there another reason why she’d asked? A way to introduce the subject, maybe, because there was someone in her life who’d be upset? ‘If it’s a problem for you, I’m happy to—’

‘There’s nobody,’ she cut in.

Was it his imagination, or did she suddenly look tired and miserable and lonely?

No. He was just reflecting how he felt on her. Tired and miserable, because he’d barely slept since the news of the crash; and lonely, because the one person Dylan could’ve talked to about this—well, he’d been in that crash and he wasn’t here anymore.

‘Though I could do without a string of dates being paraded through the house,’ she added.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not quite divorced yet. Do you really think I’m dating?’ Despite the fact that he knew his almost-ex wife was, he wasn’t.

She grimaced. ‘Sorry. I take that back. It’s not your fault I have a rubbish taste in men. I shouldn’t tar you with the same brush as them.’

He’d been right, then. Someone had let her down. More than one, he’d guess.

Dylan had never noticed before, probably because he’d been more preoccupied with being annoyed by her, but Emmy Jacobs was actually pretty. Slender, with a fine bone structure highlighted by her gamine haircut. Her hair was defiantly plum: not a natural shade, but it suited her, bringing out the depths in her huge grey eyes.

Though what on earth was he doing, thinking about Emmy in those sorts of terms?

Better put it down to the shock of bereavement. He and Emmy might be about to share a house and the care of a baby, but that was as far as it would go. They’d be lucky to keep things civil between them. And he definitely wasn’t in the market for any kind of relationship. Been there, done that, and failed spectacularly. It had taught him to steer clear, in future. He was better off on his own. It meant there was nobody to disappoint. Nobody to walk away, the way his mother had and Nadine had.

‘I assume you have a set of keys to Pete and Ally’s house?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘You, too?’

‘So I could keep an eye on the place while they’re not there. For emergencies. Which I always thought would be a burst pipe or something like that. Not...’ His throat closed, and he couldn’t get the words out. For the first time in years, he was totally speechless.

To his surprise, Emmy reached across the table to take his hand and squeezed it briefly. With sympathy, not pity. ‘Me, too. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and discover that this is all just some incredibly realistic nightmare and everything’s just fine. Except I’ve woken up too many times already and found out that it’s not.’

Whatever her faults—and Dylan knew there were a lot of them—Emmy’s feelings for Ally and Pete were in no doubt. Surprising himself further, he returned the squeeze. ‘And we’ve still got the funeral to go through.’

She sighed and withdrew her hand. ‘I guess their parents will want to arrange it.’

‘You said yourself, Pete’s dad is elderly and Ally’s mum isn’t well. They’ll need support. I was going to offer to sort it out for them. If they tell me what they want, I can arrange it.’

‘That’s good of you to take the burden off their shoulders.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Count me in on the support front. Anything you need me to do, tell me and I’ll do it.’

She wasn’t being polite, Dylan knew. The tears were shimmering in her eyes again. And he wanted to get out of here as fast as he could, before she actually started crying. ‘Thanks. I guess we’d better exchange phone numbers. Home, work, whatever.’

She nodded, and took her mobile phone from her handbag. It was a matter of seconds to give each other the details. ‘And we’ll meet at the house after work tomorrow to sort out the rota.’

‘OK. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.’

‘Thanks.’ She drained her cup. ‘I’d better get back to Tyler. See you later.’

He watched her walk out of the café. The woman who annoyed him more than anyone he’d ever met. The woman he was going to move in with tomorrow.

Yeah, life was really throwing him a curveball. And he was just going to have to deal with it. Somehow.

* * *

The next morning, Emmy unlocked the door to Pete and Ally’s three-storey Georgian house in Islington, pressed in the code for the alarm, and put her small suitcase down in the hallway.

‘It’s just you and me for now, Ty,’ she said softly to the baby, who was securely strapped into his sling and cradled against her heart. ‘We’re home. Except—’ her breath caught ‘—it’s going to be with me and Dylan looking after you, from now on, instead of your mum and dad.’

It still felt wrong. But over the course of the day she managed to make a list of the rest of the things she needed to bring from her flat, feed Tyler, give him a bath and put him to bed in his cot, and make a basic spaghetti sauce for dinner so that all she’d have to do was heat it through and cook some pasta when Dylan turned up after he’d finished work.

Home.

Would she ever come to think of this place as home? Emmy thought with longing of her own flat in Camden. It was small, but full of light; and it was hers. From next week, a stranger would be living there and enjoying the views over the local park. And she would be living here in a much more spacious house—the sort she would never have been able to afford on her own—with Dylan and Tyler.

Almost like a family.

Just what she’d always wanted.

Well, she didn’t want Dylan, she amended. But Emmy had envied part of her best friend’s life: having a husband who loved her and a gorgeous baby. Something Emmy had wanted, herself. A real family.

‘But I didn’t want to have it this way, Ally,’ she said softly. ‘I wanted someone of my own. Someone who wouldn’t let me down.’ Someone that maybe somebody else should’ve picked for her, given how bad her own choices of life partner had been in the past.

And that family she was fantasising about was just that: a fantasy. The baby wasn’t really hers, and neither was the house. And she was sharing the house with Dylan Harper, as a co-guardian. She couldn’t think of anyone less likely to be the love of her life, just as she knew that she was the exact opposite of the kind of women Dylan liked. Chalk and cheese wasn’t the half of it.

But then again, Tyler might not be her flesh and blood, but he was her responsibility now. Her godson. A baby she’d known for every single day of his little life. A baby she’d cradled in her arms when he was only a few hours old, sitting on the side of her best friend’s hospital bed and feeling the same surge of love she’d felt for the woman who’d been as close as a sister to her.

She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms round her legs, blinking away the tears. ‘I promise you I’ll love Tyler as if he was my own, Ally,’ she said softly into the empty room. ‘I’ll do my best by him.’

She just hoped that her best would be good enough. Though this was one thing she really couldn’t afford to fail at. There wasn’t a plan B.

The lights on the baby listener glowed steadily, and Emmy couldn’t hear a thing; Tyler was obviously sound asleep. She glanced at her watch. Hopefully Dylan wouldn’t be too much longer. In the meantime, she had a job to do. She uncurled and headed back to the kitchen, where she took a large piece of card and marked it out into a two-week rota for childcare and chores. She worked steadily, putting in different coloured sticky notes to show which were her slots and which were Dylan’s.

All the way through, she kept glancing at her watch. There was still no sign of Dylan, and it was getting on to half-past seven.

This was ridiculous. Had he forgotten that he was meant to be here, sorting things out with her? Or was he just in denial?

And to think he’d pegged himself as the sensible, organised one.

Yeah, right.

Irritated, she picked up her mobile phone and rang him.

He answered within two rings. ‘Dylan Harper.’ Though he sounded absent, as if his attention was elsewhere.

‘It’s Emmy,’ she said crisply. ‘Emmy Jacobs.’ Just in case he was trying to block that out, too.

There was a pause. ‘Oh.’

‘Are you not supposed to be somewhere right now?’ She made her voice supersaccharine.

‘You suggested we meefairt at the house today after work.’

‘Mmm-hmm. Which is where I am now. So are you expecting me to stay up until midnight or whenever you can be bothered to turn up and sort things through?’

He sighed. ‘Don’t nag.’

Nag? If he’d been fair about this, she wouldn’t have to nag. ‘This is meant to be about teamwork, Dylan. There’s no “I” in team,’ she reminded him.

‘Oh, spare me the clichés, Emmy,’ he drawled.

Her patience finally gave out. ‘Just get your backside over here so we can sort things out,’ she said, and hung up.