Festive Fling with the Single Dad
‘Strictly speaking... I think you could try.’
‘No, you wouldn’t fool me.’ Aksel curled his arm around her, pulling her a little closer. ‘What we have is honesty, and I’d know if that ever changed.’
It was a good answer. They were honest with each other. It had been something that had just happened from day one. Perhaps it was that which had guided them past all the traps and obstacles, and led them here.
‘Well, honestly...’ Flora propped herself up on one arm so that she could look into his eyes ‘...you are the most perfect, beautiful man I’ve ever seen.’
He didn’t believe that. Aksel thought that his body was a workhorse that got him from one place to another, along with anything he carried with him. Vanity didn’t occur to him.
‘I’d urge you to make an appointment with your optician if you think I’m perfect.’
‘You have a great body. Very nice arms.’
‘Uneven toes...’ He wiggled the toes on his left foot, two of which had been amputated above the distal phalangeal joint.
‘Not very uneven. You only lost the tips of your toes, and they tell a story.’
‘One that I won’t forget in a hurry. Frostbite’s painful.’
‘And the mark on your arm?’
‘That’s where I was bitten by a snake. In South America.’
‘And this one?’ Flora ran her finger across a scar on his side.
‘I was in a truck that tipped over while fording a river. The current turned out to be a bit stronger than we anticipated.’
‘And you have a couple of small lumps along your clavicle where you broke it. The muscles in your shoulders are a little tight because you worry. A little tension in your back because Mette loves it when you carry her on your shoulders. Most people’s bodies reflect who they are, and how they’ve lived, and yours is perfect.’
‘And you... You really are perfect, Flora. You’re made of warmth and love, and that makes you flawlessly beautiful.’ He chuckled. ‘Apart from that little scar on your knee.’
‘It’s not as good a story as yours are. I fell off my bike when I was a kid.’
Aksel reached up, pulling her down for a kiss. ‘It’s a great story. The scar’s charming, along with the rest of you.’
Flora ran her fingers through his hair. Thick and blond, most women would kill for hair like that.
‘Okay...so what’s with the hair, then?’ He knew that she liked it spread over his shoulders, instead of tied back, especially when they made love.
‘It makes you look free, like a wild creature. Is that why you grew it so long?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I just never got around to cutting it. I like the sound of that, though.’
She kissed him again. ‘Don’t get around to cutting it, Aksel. That’s perfect too.’
* * *
Aksel was happy. He felt free when he made love to Flora. And even when they weren’t making love, the contentment that he felt whenever he was in her company was making him feel that maybe there was a little life left in his battered, careworn heart.
Tonight he’d be sleeping apart from Flora, though. He’d arranged to bring Mette home for the afternoon, and she’d stay the night with him at the cottage, before returning to the clinic the next morning. It had gone without saying that this was something that he needed to do alone.
He’d decided on some games, and had bought all of Mette’s favourite foods. When he arrived home with her, he spread the colourful quilt on her bed, walking her around the cottage to remind her of the layout.
Everything just clicked into place, as if he’d been there all of Mette’s life. She enjoyed her afternoon, and dozed in his arms as he told her the story about how crocodiles and penguins had helped him to reach the top of a high mountain in safety.
‘I want to say goodnight to Mama.’
Aksel realised suddenly that in his determination to get everything right, he’d forgotten all about Mette’s electric candle and had left it by her bed at the clinic. But it was important that his daughter felt she could speak to her mother whenever she wanted to. He reached for one of the Christmas candles that Flora had arranged on his mantelpiece, putting it into the grate.