Page 11 of All Yours

‘We thought you could come to tea tonight? So that you can get to know the boys and we can outline the routine for tomorrow?’

Robyn nodded her agreement, relieved not to have to think about cooking something for herself.

‘Are you going to take us to school in the morning?’ Reggie asked.

‘And pick us up afterwards?’ asked George around his thumb.

‘I sure am,’ she said. ‘But you’ll have to show me the way.’

‘And Willow too?’ Reggie asked.

‘And Willow too.’

‘I’m going to push the pram,’ George asserted.

‘If I had one, you could. But I wear her in a sling. Do you want to try?’

George’s eyes were like saucers as she propped Willow on the sofa to free her hands and wrapped the sling around him. She tightened it to his tiny frame and slipped his teddy bear into the baby’s position. Fox laughed and took a photo on his phone.

‘Babies are brilliant,’ George said, happily lugging his teddy cargo around the room.

‘Can we have one, Dad?’ Reggie asked suddenly.

Fox laughed and Robyn saw the crinkle of his eyes. Damn, he was attractive.

‘Can we?’ they both chorused.

‘No way,’ Fox said, wiping his tears with his fingers. ‘You two are my babies – I don’t want another one. My baby days are well and truly over.’

There was a general sigh of disappointment from the boys. Robyn’s stomach clenched and she reached for her daughter, suddenly wanting to hold her tightly.

‘Come on then, boys, homework before dinner.’ Fox herded them out and they ran into the garden. ‘Come over at six?’ he said to Robyn as he pulled the door closed behind him. She watched him race the boys across the lawn, laughing as he went.

Dinner was a lively affair, as she’d suspected. The boys were overexcited to have a guest and ran round the table yelling a lot of the time. Fox supervised their antics from his position at the stove, stirring, while Robyn fed Willow a bottle. He pointed out things in the kitchen that would come in handy with the boys: the toastie maker, the hot chocolate machine, the naughty step if they misbehaved. She took everything in, enjoying the new gadgets mixed with the old wooden table – the modern feel of the space along with the hand-painted pictures stuck on all the walls. Once Willow was fed, Fox served pasta with freshly made tomato sauce. Both boys told him it wasn’t half as good as Isabella’s. Despite herself, Robyn’s ears pricked up. Of course there must be a woman in his life. Why wouldn’t there be? He was a good-looking guy. A great-looking guy actually. And if this house was anything to go by, he was also wealthy: a potentially heady combination.

‘Yeah, Isabella’s pasta is the best!’ George rolled his eyes and kissed his fingers in an adorable chef’s kiss.

‘Who’s Isabella?’ Robyn couldn’t help but ask.

‘She’s a good friend. She runs Tutto Mio on the square. She is also engaged to one of my best friends, Etienne, who runs The Bistro.’

Robyn nodded her understanding, noticing the simultaneous jolt of relief that coursed through her. She got up to help clear the table, but Fox waved her back down.

‘Sit, relax,’ he said. ‘You start tomorrow.’

She sank back in the kitchen chair, Willow now snoozing on her lap. The boys went to get their pyjamas on, and Dingbat went with them.

‘I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re here,’ Fox said, opening the dishwasher. ‘The schedule for this sequel is tight. You’re going to be a game changer. Literally.’

‘What’s it about? This game?’ she asked, genuinely interested seeing as she loved his first game so much. He explained the idea behind it, and the characters, using his hands to describe things in between sorting dirty bowls and glasses.

Robyn listened, trying to imagine the levels, the challenges, lost in the world he was creating. She loved gaming. It was one of the things that she could do for hours on end, all night on occasion, although not so much since Willow had arrived.

‘Well, if you ever need a tester,’ she offered as he stood to shut the dishwasher door.

‘Thanks,’ he said before rolling his shoulders. ‘Right, back to more pressing matters: tomorrow.’

Businesslike again, he pulled up a chair beside her at the table, careful to keep a space between them, she noticed, as he navigated his way through the calendar for the week ahead. Notes and appointments were colour coded: red for Reggie, green for George. ‘Easy to remember that way,’ he explained. Every day had at least one thing on it, sometimes two. They discussed school times and clubs, play dates at home and away.