‘Once I’d have agreed.’ He bit his lip. ‘But I might be wrong.’ A pause. ‘Hate to admit this but I’m looking forward to spending time with everyone, seeing how the kids have grown. Getting to know Rosie has made me realise how much I’ve missed out on.’
‘Could be your best Christmas ever.’
‘Yeah.’ A soft kiss on her brow before he told her, ‘I’m back on duty on the twenty-seventh.’
Two days and nights without seeing Nixon. A lifetime. ‘Glad you’re having dinner with us tomorrow night before you hit the road south.’ They’d agreed to get together with Rosie for presents and an early meal, then she’d head out to the Valley to join her family.
Nixon’s hand left her skin, and the bed rocked. ‘Time I headed home.’
She wasn’t ready to have Rosie bouncing into her bedroom in the morning to find Nixon in bed with her. Not when they hadn’t talked about where they were going with this, while they were still in the exciting, don’t-get-too-serious phase. To introduce Rosie to the possibility of Nixon staying in her life before she and Nixon had made that commitment would be plain irresponsible.
Rosie’s heart would be broken. Already she thought he was the best thing after chocolate Santas. So did her mother. ‘Ever thought of coating yourself in chocolate?’
Nixon’s head jerked up. ‘What? You want to lick it off me, by any chance?’
‘Now there’s a thought.’
‘I’m not going to ask where you’re going with this one.’ He slid into his chinos and shoved his arms into his crumpled shirt before bending over to kiss her chin, her nose, and then finally her mouth. ‘See you later.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’ She wasn’t working again until after Christmas, having booked the days off long ago. Having worked half shifts most of the month, she and Nixon had agreed she’d return to work full time on the twenty-seventh.
Another kiss caressed her lips, and she snatched a handful of shirt, tugged him closer. ‘What’s the time?’
‘Unfortunately I do need some shut-eye before returning to the ED.’
‘Damn.’ She craved another round of lovemaking.
‘See you.’ Emma sighed as the front door closed quietly. Bring on the time when he did stay right through until morning.
Don’t rush things.
Nixon wasn’t ready for anything serious, and she probably wasn’t either. Memories of bad times returned at inconvenient moments, coming more frequently these past weeks, as though the more she got to know Nixon and thought he might be the man for her, the more her mind reminded her how wrong love could go.
Picking up the adjacent pillow, she buried her face in it to inhale deeply, savouring Nixon’s scent. They were a work in progress, which was currently giving her unbelievable pleasure.
Forget moving ahead. She was already there, wherever that was. Right or wrong, she’d fallen in love with Nixon. Totally. Helplessly—which was the scare factor. She understood being helpless as only those who’d been in her situation did. But while caution tripped through the excitement, deep inside where it mattered she knew Nixon didn’t have a violent bone in his body. He’d protect those he loved to the end of the earth. If only he could admit that love.
Nixon had given her back so much she felt like the optimistic girl she’d been before she married. And she gave him plenty of passion, warmth, fun, and genuine care. Another yawn had her putting the pillow aside and snuggling under the covers, her eyes drooping shut. Better buy some vitamins in the morning.
*
‘Mummy, it’s a robot.’ Rosie tore at the paper left on the box Nixon had given her.
‘Careful, my girl. You don’t want to break it.’ Emma smiled at Rosie’s excitement. ‘We’ve only just started. There’s all tomorrow to get through yet.’ Her smile slipped. She’d miss Nixon so much. Too much. It was only for two days—and nights. She rubbed her eyes with her thumbs. Her head pounded, and her breasts ached for the first time in days.
Nixon nodded. No easy smiles from him this afternoon.
‘You okay?’ she asked, trying not to let the grizzly mood that had been gnawing at her all day come to the fore.
‘Busy day.’ He concentrated too hard on opening the well-sealed box holding the robot.
Not what she wanted. She’d been looking forward to a few hours relaxing with Nixon over a wine as Rosie opened her present and he taught her how to operate the controls. So they were both in moods. Maybe this time of the year did that to him, reminded him of missing out with his parents and brother.
‘Abbie came in for coffee and cake earlier. She’s on a high about Christmas with her baby and how everything’s going so well with Callum.’ She hadn’t shut up for a moment and Emma had felt drained when she’d picked up Grace and left. Not that she could blame her friend for feeling out of sorts. Hell, she didn’t know what to blame it on, but if she had to pick a culprit she’d go with hormones. Always a good backstop.
‘Hold the controls like this,’ Nixon demonstrated to Rosie. ‘Push that button.’
The robotic super girl lurched and fell over. ‘I did it, Mummy. Look.’
Nixon stood the toy up again, and again, so patient. If she didn’t know better she would have said he was an old hand at playing with kids. ‘What time do you want to get away?’
He glanced up. ‘Being Christmas Eve, the road will be chaotic, so about seven if that works for you.’
A couple of hours earlier than she’d expected, or believed from his comments when she’d first suggested dinner. ‘I’ll start cooking.’ The salad was prepared, the peas podded, the spuds ready to be brought to the boil. She stood up in a hurry and tripped over a doll lying on the floor.
Nixon caught her as she reached out for balance and came to his feet. ‘Steady.’
Emma breathed in Nixon’s scent and felt tension in his hands. Something was wrong. Making eye contact with him, she saw worry and uncertainty coming back at her. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’
Through the wall, Grace started crying, a loud, heartstring-tugging sound, and Emma’s breasts tightened, her heart dropped, and a waterfall streamed from her eyes. Nothing, he’d said. It was just all too much. She fell against Nixon, wrapped her arms around his waist and cried, deep harsh sobs filled with sadness and longing and envy.
Nixon lifted her into his arms and sank onto a chair, holding her against his chest, his hand soothing her back, his lips brushing the top of her head. ‘Rosie, take the robot to show Abbie, will you? I’ll come and get you in a minute.’
‘Can I?’
‘Off you go.’ A moment later he was pressing tissues from the box nearby into her hand. ‘Hey, about time this happened.’
‘This i
sn’t baby hormones.’ Emma sniffed. ‘Not Grace ones.’
Under her backside he tensed. ‘What do you mean?’
Because it had been a day full of yearning, feeling as though she was missing out and not knowing how to cope or where to find the strength to look life in the eye and tell it to go to hell, she opened her mouth and spilled. ‘I want another baby. One of my own. Don’t even think of telling me this is because of Grace. It’s not.’
Nixon’s chin rested on the top of her head. ‘You’re exhausted, Em. You’ve been rushing around pretending all is well in your court, that you’re coping. Hell, you’ve avoided meetings with the counsellor, saying you don’t need to download your heart. Give yourself a break.’
Pulling her face away from his sodden shirt, she stared at him. ‘I know all that. You’re still wrong. Not that it matters. Pregnancy’s out when I’m not in a permanent, loving relationship.’ What would he do if she told him her half of that picture existed? She loved Nixon, wanted him to be the father of her next child, but she’d gone off half cocked, hadn’t waited until he was ready to hear what she was thinking. ‘I’m sorry,’ she blustered, afraid she’d scared him off for ever. ‘You’re right. I’m tired.’ She sat up straighter, wiped her eyes and cheeks; his finger brushed her hair. ‘Here’s me being a cry baby and it’s Christmas.’
Brushing her forehead with his lips, he gave her a lopsided smile. ‘How about we skip dinner and you head out to your folks’ while you’re still awake? I can grab something from the supermarket as I go through Frankton.’
If her heart hadn’t already felt like a lump of concrete that would’ve done it. He was bolting. Using her as the reason, but he hadn’t been forthcoming with her since arriving, and now he was in a hurry to be gone. ‘If that’s what you want,’ she said pointedly.
‘It’s best.’ He stared at her with something she’d like to believe was love in his eyes, but her head screamed out that she knew better. She’d fallen for him, but doubted he felt the same. Pushing her case would be rushing him.
Clambering to her feet, she stared out of the window, seeing her hopes vaporising in the hot summer air. When Nixon draped an arm over her shoulders she couldn’t help but lean into him, absorb his strength and heat. And hope against hope that time would bring her what she wanted.