‘Sure.’ He took his own apron from the kitchen drawer, mainly used if he was barbequing in the summer. ‘You can wear this.’
She pulled on the long, black apron with a picture of a man’s naked chest emblazoned on the front. The kids sniggered.
‘I’m sorry.’ Dylan laughed. ‘But it’s better than ruining your clothes.’ He leaned in as Jacob raced to the fridge for the ingredients Ruby was reeling off to him from the recipe. ‘Watch him, he’s no idea about the heat of the oven yet and he’s so damn curious.’
She smiled. ‘I have looked after them before, Dylan. Theyaremy children.’
Dylan nodded in acceptance and left them to it. Up in his bathroom, he wondered if he was being paranoid locking the door, but Prue was pulling out all the stops to convince him they still belonged together and he had visions of her appearing up here to join him. But she didn’t. He was safe. And he stayed beneath the rainfall shower for longer than usual, his body fatigued from the workout, his mind exhausted with confusion.
When he stepped out of the shower, he wiped the mirror with his hand. He had three-day growth—a look he’d never have got away with in his lawyer days—but he’d become lazy, or relaxed, as he liked to think, out of the corporate world. He’d seen Cleo when he’d had two-day growth and she hadn’t seemed to mind one bit, but now he took out his razor and foam and neatened himself up, a delaying tactic that wasn’t completely unintentional.
By the time he reached the kitchen, the meatloaf had already filled the room with the aroma of garlic, onion and rich beef as it cooked away in the oven.
‘Daddy, I got messy!’ Jacob held up hands covered in a sticky mixture.
‘He insisted he didn’t wash them until you were down here,’ Prue explained.
‘I wanted to show you, Daddy. Messy is fun!’
‘Of course it is.’ He grinned at his little boy. ‘And I’m impressed. Now let’s get you washed up with plenty of soap and water.’
All cleaned up, Dylan and Jacob joined Ruby and Prue in the kitchen. Ruby was at the sink washing the mixing bowl, and when she set it on the drainer she hopped down off the stool, and Prue organised for her to chop the carrots under supervision. It was a sight to behold. He’d never seen Prue doing anything so practical, so untidy with Ruby and Jacob.
The timer on the oven told him they still had another forty-five minutes until the meatloaf was ready, and with Jacob clean, the carrots prepared and the saucepan of potatoes all ready to go on the stovetop, Jacob said, ‘Sit down, Daddy. R-e-l-a-x.’ He dragged out the word in the exact same way Dylan had said to both his kids on the days where tempers were frayed or where they were both a bit hyper and driving him crazy. Dylan did as he was told and when Prue offered him a glass of red he didn’t say no. In fact, he savoured every sip of it until the meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and boiled carrots came to the table and they sat down to enjoy a family meal.
When dinner was over, and the kids had brushed their teeth, been read a bedtime story and were tucked up beneath their duvet covers with the lights dimmed, Dylan and Prue sat in the kitchen opposite one another at the table.
‘I don’t want you getting their hopes up.’ Dylan decided there was no sense trying to be tactful. He needed to be clear. ‘I don’t want you saying anything to Ruby and Jacob. Already Ruby thinks you might be moving in with us.’
‘Maybe it makes sense to her.’ Prue toyed with her hair, something Dylan had rarely noticed her do. Usually her appearance was immaculate, she was so confident.
‘It doesn’t make sense to me,’ he said.
‘We’re family. I made a mistake.’
‘You know they were devastated when you left.’
She looked down into her wine and bit gently on her lower lip. ‘I never stopped loving them.’
‘You always held back from them.’
‘In what way?’ She seemed surprised and treated the comment as an accusation.
‘You were always distant from them when they were really little. You never wanted to get stuck in with the messiness of childhood.’
Prue sat forward and held her glass of wine as though her life depended on it. ‘When Jacob was only a few months old, I got to the point where I didn’t recognise myself, Dylan.’
He knocked back a big gulp of wine, waiting to hear excuse after excuse, and was surprised he got such a straightforward explanation.
‘My whole identity became wife and mother,’ Prue explained. ‘There was no Prue Jamieson any more, no Prue the real estate agent. I was a wife and mother, full stop. And for a time I loved it. I loved the house in the suburbs, the lawyer husband. It was the life I’d always thought I wanted. The life my mother married into when she met my dad. She never worked again.’
‘You were happy to be a stay-at-home mom.’
‘I was, Dylan, but I never banked on feeling so detached from myself.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s difficult to explain, especially to a man, but you carry a baby for nine months and your body changes with every moment. Then you give birth and bring this new life into the world, you breastfeed, you find yourself worrying obsessively each night about every little thing.’
He was confused. ‘You were never much of a worrier.’
‘I got up every night when Ruby was born, then again when Jacob came along.’
