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Halle was due back from the studio in fifteen minutes and he wanted the place to look good. He had plans for tonight. Important plans. Which didn’t involve the kitchen looking like a bloody tornado had hit it.
The tornado in question poked his head round the door two seconds later, the innocent expression on his face not fooling Luke for a second. ‘What consequences?’ Aldo said.
‘Consequences that have yet to be decided … but will be a lot worse for you than me,’ Luke said, doing his best to keep his straining temper in check. Aldo liked to test his boundaries, because he knew exactly how important it was to Luke that the two of them get on. And generally they did get on. They got on really, really well. Almost like a real father and son.
He and Halle had decided to take things slowly the past five months. He’d kept his place in Paris and still spent the weekdays there. Even though they’d soon started stretching his weekends in London to four days, he hated having to head back every Tuesday morning. So they’d agreed a week ago he would hang out in Notting Hill over the whole three weeks of the Christmas holidays and see how things went.
And everything had been going great. Until this morning, when Halle had rushed off to the production offices to record an interview that was being screened before her Christmas Special tomorrow and Trey and Lizzie had shot off to do a ton of last-minute shopping together—which he had a sneaking suspicion was just an excuse for them to flirt their arses off without an audience. He resisted a shudder as he basted the meat. While he’d been left to do a thousand and one chores, including cooking the dinner, and Aldo had taken it upon himself to turn into the child of Satan.
Originally, Luke had made a fuss of the kid for Halle’s sake, and Lizzie’s sake, and because it made everyone’s life easier when he was staying over, but the truth was, now he flat-out adored the little monster.
But even though he’d fallen for the boy months ago, he’d been careful not to push the whole Dad routine. He didn’t want to scare the kid off by getting too heavy-handed. They were both still feeling their way, but he knew when he was being dicked around. And he had a feeling they might have reached their Armageddon and he was finally going to have to start putting his foot down. Because today Aldo had gone out of his way to strain his patience to breaking point and beyond.
Aldo’s eyes narrowed and he waltzed over to the pile of Yu-Gi-Oh! cards and Lego strewn all over the sofa and coffee table that he and Trey had been playing with that morning.
Propping his hands on his hips, Aldo declared, ‘Why do I have to clean it up, when Trey made the mess, t
oo?’
‘Because Trey is out Christmas shopping with your sister and you’re not.’
Aldo turned, his eyes stormy with antagonism. ‘Well, I’m not doing it and you can’t make me, because there aren’t any consequences.’
Luke slid the roasting tin back into the oven, still holding on to his temper. Just. ‘Oh, yeah, well, how about if I told you the consequences are gonna involve me slinging the lot of it in the bin if you don’t start clearing it up in the next ten seconds?’
Armageddon it is, then.
Aldo’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Go on, then. See if I care,’ he shouted, then drew his leg back and kicked the Harry Potter castle he’d made earlier with all his might. Hogwarts exploded, firing pieces of Lego across the room like a barrage of ground-to-air missiles.
‘OK, that’s it.’ Luke slammed the oven door with a crash, threw down the tea towel and raced after Aldo as the boy shot out of the room as if his pants were on fire.
They soon will be, you little bugger.
He caught up with Aldo on the stairs, jerked him up under his arm and carried him back into the kitchen as the kid kicked and screamed like a banshee.
‘Get off me, get off me. I hate you. I’m not doing it.’
Aldo’s flying heels connected with Luke’s shin. Luke stumbled, limping, as pain rocketed up his leg.
‘Shit, that hurt, you little …’ He dumped the boy on the sofa, sat down and grabbed the kid by his T-shirt before he could leap away again, then hauled him over his lap.
He raised his arm, about to lay his hand across Aldo’s backside, when the boy’s panicked screams cut through the buzzing in Luke’s skull, shocking him into immobility.
‘You can’t tell me what to do. Because you’re not my dad and you don’t want to be,’ Aldo sobbed.
Luke dragged shaking fingers through his hair as the boy’s cries turned to big fat heart-wrenching sobs.
He lifted Aldo off his lap and cradled the kid in his arms. ‘It’s OK, Aldo. I’ve got you. Let it out.’
Thank Christ he hadn’t actually followed through and smacked the child. But even though he hadn’t hurt Aldo, he had humiliated him, and he knew that could be just as bad.
Hugging the boy close, Luke let Aldo cling to him until the heaving sobs had quietened into choking pants of misery and vulnerability.
There was only one way to fix this. By coming clean with the boy and laying his feelings on the line. He’d planned to wait to square things with Aldo, until he had everything squared with Aldo’s mother, but that was the coward’s way out. He couldn’t let Halle do all the heavy lifting, because this decision was between him and Aldo and not Aldo’s mum.
‘I know I’m not your dad,’ he said, raising the boy’s chin until their gazes met. He pushed the sweaty hair off Aldo’s forehead. ‘But I want to be, very much.’
Aldo blinked, staring at him out of Halle’s whisky-coloured eyes, his tear-streaked face a picture of astonishment. ‘You do?’ He hiccoughed. ‘Really?’
