Poles Apart

“You’re kidding,” Carson gasped.

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Well, how are you supposed to go to your classes?” he asked angrily.

I shrugged. “Apparently, that’s not their problem,” I answered. Not finding anything good in the fridge, I slammed it shut and turned to face him. “You should have seen the way they looked at me. I felt disgusting. I hate this. I hate that everything has changed. I hate that I now can’t go to class because I don’t have anyone to watch Sash. Maybe I should just give up and drop out. Hell, I’ll be surprised if I’m even allowed to attend anymore after this. If the crèche are binning me off, then the school will probably find an excuse to chuck me out, too.”

Carson recoiled at my train of thought but shook his head adamantly. “You’re not dropping out, and they’re not binning you off, either. If they do then we’ll take it to the board of governors and tell them we’re suing them for discrimination. You love your course, and I won’t let you give up on it,” he replied. “If they don’t want to care for Sasha while you’re at uni, then we’ll find someone else to.”

I scowled down at the floor. “I don’t know. It’s going to be really hard for me in my classes anyway now that everyone knows.” I kicked my toes against the marble tiles absentmindedly. “The other mums I talk to every day at nursery couldn’t get away from me quick enough. It was like they thought I was going to infect them with something.”

Carson sighed and stepped closer to me, hooking his finger under my chin, and tilting my head up so I had to meet his eyes. “You’re not a quitter, Emma. If you gave up when life was a little hard, then you wouldn’t be where you are today.”

That was true. I usually never let anything beat me down, but right now I felt like I’d been kicked too many times and was finding it hard to get to my feet again. I shrugged, not having the words. What I longed for was to step forward, press my face into his chest, and let his warmth cover me like a cloak of protection.

Carson sighed deeply. “We’ll just get one of those live-in nannies or something. You’re not quitting your course,” he said adamantly. “I’ll make some calls and get the ball rolling and then once we have some suitable candidates, you can choose someone.”

I scoffed at his idea. “I’m not having a live-in nanny look after Sash! No way.”

“Why not? It won’t be just a regular person. There must be some sort of service that other people in the public eye go to. I’ll call around and see if anyone can recommend someone. You can do interviews, make sure the person is qualified and that you like them and trust them.”

I shook my head in refusal. “No, it’s not happening, Carson. I’m not letting you bully me into this one. We’re not having a live-in nanny. I’m not having someone know her better than me. Sasha will be running to her when she’s hurt herself, and she’ll breastfeed her in the night and have Sash call her ‘Mummy’. She’ll make me look like I’ve lost my mind so she can sweep in and steal my family from me. No. No way.”

Carson chuckled wickedly, looking at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Seriously?”

I placed my hands on my hips. “Yes! Have you not seen The Hand That Rocks the Cradle? The blonde woman in that was psycho. I’m not taking the chance.”

He burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Emma, you’re so awesomely funny. Who knew living with you would be so entertaining,” he jibed.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I’m not having a live-in nanny.” He can make fun all he wants; it isn’t happening.

Carson stepped closer to me, so close I could feel his breath as it blew across my face. He’d been eating apple pie. My mouth watered as I longed to go up on tiptoes and press those soft lips against mine. I wanted to trace my tongue along his and see if he tasted like apple pie, too.

“Okay, fine, we don’t get a nanny. How about we find Sasha a new private nursery then?” he offered, cocking his head to the side.

I smiled weakly and nodded, feeling some of the tension leave my body. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot better. Thank you.”

When his hand rose and he brushed a loose curl of hair behind my ear, my whole body prickled with excitement. It had been so long since he’d touched me that my insides were melting and fizzing with apprehension. It was now five long weeks since I’d had any physical attention from him. That was seriously too long for my body to cope with.

I caught his hand, smiling weakly, knowing I needed to make my escape before I begged him to make love to me on the kitchen counter just so I could relieve some of this sexual frustration building inside me. A white blob on the tip of his finger caught my attention and I looked down at it, seeing that he had little speckles of white and silver flecking the back of his hand.

“You been decorating or something?” I asked, letting go of his hand and taking a step back.

“Yeah.” He nodded, looking away from me.

“I thought you said you don’t do decorating,” I queried. Last night when we’d spoken about Sasha’s room, he’d said he would get a professional painter in to decorate it. I frowned, not liking that he’d gone ahead and done it without me. He’d said we could choose the theme together.

“I don’t, I just wanted to do this little thing.” He shrugged, looking away from me before going to the fridge and rooting around inside.