Unsuitable

Reece could hear their voices, low murmurs and smile making giggles while he cleaned up. He rang Polly, but his phone was off. He left a message saying Audrey was home and he was staying, that he’d be around to the flat later for a bag of clothes and things. For tonight he had his gym bag, a spare t-shirt and a pair of cut-off track pants. They’d do to sleep in.

He’d run out of things to do when Audrey re-appeared. She sat at the table and pointed to the chair right angled to her. He sat. He could tangle his feet with hers. He could touch her hand resting on the table without any effort. He waited.

“I’m sorry about my mother. I forget how bad she can be and then she’s worse and I wonder how I manage to block out her inexcusable behaviour, but I always do. Oddly, growing up with Esther was good training for work; I’ve never met anyone quite so passive aggressive as my own mum. This time though there was Mia to consider, and there was you.”

He started to object and she put her hand over his where it rested on his thigh. “You matter, Reece. I keep thinking about what would have happened if you hadn’t found me.”

“But I did. And you’re going to be well again.”

“Les said she would’ve called when I didn’t show at work, but I wouldn’t have heard the phone and she wouldn’t have thought to come and check on me till much later and that would’ve been too late.”

He’d thought about this too. About what might’ve happened had it been a weekend. “Mia also knows how to ring triple O.” He used his other hand to make a sandwich of hers.

“She does? Oh.” She frowned taking that in. “I should’ve told you about Merrill and Joe being Mia’s guardians. I should have talked to them about something like this happening. Barrett too, he had a right to know.”

“Audrey, stop.”

“I should know what Mia’s giraffe is called. I shouldn’t have kissed you. But I did and I nearly died and now all I want to do is kiss you and it’s wrong, it’s a horrible cliché. I’m your boss and you’re much younger and I’m—” He pushed the table aside. “What are you doing?”

He hooked his foot around the rung of her chair and dragged it towards him. “It doesn’t matter about Merry and Joe. I’m not angry about what they did. They were thinking of you. If I never see the stony expression you get on your face when you’re dealing with your mother again, I’ll be a happy man. The giraffe’s name is Harold, but it’s also Paula. It just depends.” He put his knuckles to her cheek. “I couldn’t give a stuff about cliché. I wanted you to kiss me. I want you to kiss me again. I want that a lot. I get that it’s confusing and you’re still recovering. I’m here. For Mia, for you, for whatever it is you think is us, for as long as you want.”

“I don’t know what to say?”

“Say you’ll rest and eat and get well. Say you’ll enjoy time off work with Mia. Say you’ll let me care for you.” He almost said love. He closed his eyes. The old Audrey would’ve taken control now, told him where his place was; prevented him from doing anything terminally stupid. The Audrey in front of him was weary and hurting and scared.

“I want that.”

He pulled her off the chair, stood her between his knees, holding her at the waist. He gave her back her control. “You lead. You tell me what you want. I’ll take my cues from you.”

“That’s not—”

“It’s fair.” He patted his knee and she sat. “It’s fair because I trust you.” And he couldn’t rush this. If it was going to happen at all, it had to be because she wanted it, not because she was confused or he pushed too hard.

“Reece, I...”

He kissed her. Firmly, deeply, so she understood what he wanted. She’d already led him to kisses, to touching, to wanting more and holding off. He stepped up. For the rest he’d wait. It had to be her choice. She had everything to lose and he had nothing he wouldn’t trade.

Those next few days, they established a routine. Audrey slept late. Reece got Mia out of the house early to give her quiet. They met up for lunch. The afternoon was for games and stories and learning things, time for mother and daughter to cuddle in front of a Disney movie. As if to make up for her initial disinterest in Audrey, Mia clung to her, followed her around, climbed into her bed at night, stood outside the bathroom till she came out. The only place she wanted to sit was Audrey’s lap. The only person she wanted to play with, or hear a story from was Audrey. She tolerated him because she loved swimming, got hungry and he was better at fixing things. He was otherwise odd man out and that left him free to run the house.

He watched Audrey relax, sleep away the dark patches under her eyes and lose the fearful expression, the oddly hesitant quality she’d had. They didn’t kiss again, but she accepted his casual touches and she initiated her own, touching his arms and chest, his hair, walking into his embrace, reaching for his hand. If she was testing him, it was working. He was the one who was tense. Now he knew how to read her eyes, to see the desire in them, and it was a form of torture not to be able to act on what he saw, to wait for her lead, like he’d promised.

A week after she was home that changed. It’d been raining nonstop. Playgroup was cancelled because half the kids had the flu. Mia was bored and cranky. She wanted a fairy palace. It had to be pretty. And it had to be different to the treehouse.

He used the mattress from the garden daybed, every scatter pillow in the house, a standard lamp, a portable beach igloo, a pink sheet and a long string of Christmas fairy lights. Mia was never ever coming out of there. She was going to live there. It fixed rainy day misery and caused an argument over where meals would be eaten. Reece carried to Mia to bed when she fell asleep in her palace.

When he closed her bedroom door, Audrey took his hand. She led him to the fairy palace. He thought she might want him to dismantle it, but she crawled inside.

“You’d have made a mean fairy architect.”

He laughed and squatted at the entrance. Audrey had settled on the mattress with a mountain of pillows at her back. On top of the pillows was a jumble of soft toys: snouts, tails, paws, ears, piled high in all shapes, sizes and colours. The way he’d rigged the light meant a soft pink glow illuminated the space and the fairy lights winked on and off in a slow rippling pattern. It smelled of lavender laundry detergent, and in her loose casual clothing Audrey looked young, healthy and happy.

“The problem is I’m a giant.”

She patted the mattress. “I think you’ll fit.”

If it meant being right beside her, he’d try. He crawled in and the whole structure creaked and shifted, a bear, a cow and a gorilla fell off the toy stack. He and Audrey ended up lying on their sides, propped up by pillows. His feet and shins stuck out and it was mighty uncomfortable for the thirty seconds it took to realise he could lay flat and she’d tuck into his side. That was comfortable for about five minutes and then it became impossible. He didn’t want to be this close if he couldn’t act on it.

“Relax, Reece.”