“Not quite,” the guide says. “But they’re both very strong.”
“I have strong bones,” Alfie says, satisfied.
Jack is standing beside me, shoulder brushing mine, watching Alfie with that quiet focus he always has when he looks at him. Like the rest of the room fades slightly when his son is happy.
“So,” he murmurs, “worth the paperwork?”
“Yes,” I say. “Definitely worth the paperwork.”
He smiles faintly.
Around us the other parents hover near a small buffet table or wander between displays with the slightly dazed expressions of adults allowed into a museum after hours. There is something magical about it. The echo. The quiet. The sense of being somewhere normally closed.
My life has changed so much in six months it sometimes feels like I blinked and missed the transition.
The article about Jack turned out better than any of us expected. Andrea found the heart of it. Ben gave it the football spine. And Jack insisted on giving one last short interview before it went to print.
“If they’re going to write about me,” he had said, “they might as well get the current version.”
Thecurrent version, it turned out, included him calmly admitting he was ready to settle down and had no interest in living up to his old reputation anymore.
That caused chaos.
For about two weeks he was apparently Carlisle’s most eligible bachelor. The school gate suddenly had a noticeable increase in friendly conversations starting withHow are you managing everything on your own?
Single mums definitely noticed him.
Jack dealt with it the way he deals with most things. Calmly. Practically. Without fuss.
“Come with me,” he had said one afternoon when I hesitated about going to pick Alfie up with him.
“I don’t want to make things awkward.”
“They’re only awkward if we pretend,” he had replied.
So I went.
He took my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Kissed me without hesitation. Did the same the next day. And the next.
News, it turns out, becomes very boring when there is no scandal attached. A steady relationship apparently does not interest anyone for long.
Which suits me perfectly.
Jack nudges my shoulder.
“You’re thinking again.”
“I do that sometimes.”
“Dangerous hobby.”
I smile.
“I was just thinking how strange it is that this is my life now.”
He follows my gaze to Alfie, who is now arguing about whether a Triceratops could beat a T-Rex.
“I always hoped it might be,” he says quietly.
