Page 71 of Not Just for Christmas

A flicker of optimism warmed me, easing the knot of tension inside.

‘Thank you,’ I murmured. ‘Thank you.’

Dylan brushed a stray hair from my cheek and his gentle touch sent a tingle down my spine. ‘I should have come back to Merrydown sooner, I’m sorry I haven’t.’

‘You had a lot going on,’ I said.

He shook his head slowly, his eyes steady on mine. ‘That wasn’t the reason I stayed away. I guess I was scared of how I’d feel being here at Merrydown. Without Jack.’

‘I understand. It isn’t the same without his energy.’ I touched his arm, my fingertips brushing the cotton of his shirt. ‘And now you’re here, how do you feel?’

Dylan took my hand, laced his fingers through mine. ‘Glad I came.’

I exhaled. ‘Me too. I’ve missed you.’

He gathered me into his arms, holding me close. I’d shown myself I could handle things alone, but there was something comforting about being held again. One of his hands traced a line down my back, the other gently cradled my face.

I found myself drawn to his lips …

I jerked away, my face flaming. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t …’

He stepped back, hands raised. ‘No, I’m sorry. This is on me.’

A car horn sounded outside. Caroline had arrived.

I grabbed my handbag. ‘I should go. See you later.’

I flew down the stairs, yelling to Sam to come and give me a kiss before I went, and dashed outside, desperate for air.

I couldn’t blame what just happened on Dylan. But this, this was why I hadn’t wanted him to stay at Merrydown for Christmas. Because what just happened was no surprise. Not one bit.

Chapter 30

Dylan sat at the piano, searching for the perfect melody to go with the lyrics he’d written in Lucy’s bedroom. Everything he tried felt too slow, too much like a sad ballad; he didn’t want that. He wanted something uplifting, something which would make people feel warm inside.

He closed his eyes for a second and let out a breath. Man, she was beautiful. When she’d first appeared from the bathroom, tendrils of hair framing her face, cheeks pink from the steam of the shower, and lips so, so kissable, his mouth had gone dry. Luckily the phone call from Will had come just in time to distract him.

Brushing her hair, doing up her buttons, touching her bare skin had been torture. He was amazed she hadn’t noticed his trembling hands. All he could think about was pressing his lips to the nape of her neck. Somehow he’d managed to keep himself in check, right up until the moment she had asked him how he felt.

And then he hadn’t been able to stop himself from taking her in his arms.

He pushed himself off the piano stool and gave himself a shake. He had to stop this. He needed to do better. Not just be a better godfather, but a better friend too. Lucy was a friend, a dear friend. If Caroline hadn’t arrived when she had, what would have happened? Thank God he hadn’t made a fool of himself and kissed her. He must not do anything to jeopardise their relationship. He couldn’t risk losing her, or Sam. He clenched his jaw, annoyed with himself.

He picked up his phone and checked his messages for a reply from Will. Nothing yet. He felt bad for pulling out of the press day tomorrow, and he knew Will would be annoyed, but Lucy was his priority. And Sam. She never asked for anything, so this was the least he could do. And he could still keep his donation to the RNLI anonymous, there was no need to change anything. He’d simply be at the launch as another guest. Nobody need know that the money for the new boat had come from him.

‘Uncle Dylan, put down your phone and talk to me,’ said Sam, from underneath the piano where he had his head on Gus’s sleeping body.

He did as Sam asked and joined him and the dog on the floor under the piano, making the little boy giggle.

‘This room is not very Christmassy,’ Sam pointed out.

‘Yeah, I noticed that. How come you and Mommy didn’t decorate in here?’

This room had a cold unused feel to it. The fireplace was crying out to be lit, but there wasn’t any firewood in here at all. There was a table and chairs in here too, but every meal so far had been eaten in the kitchen.

Sam shrugged. ‘We didn’t come in here until you brought the piano inside. But after Daddy died, everyone sat in here and ate sandwiches and talked in a tiny whisper. It was really sad.’

‘I know it was, buddy.’ He ruffled Sam’s hair. Gus woke up and pushed his nose into Dylan’s hand for some attention. ‘Hey, shall we decorate in here now?’