Page 53 of His Housekeeper's Twin Baby Confession
Her husband hadn’t particularly enjoyed it either, and so Carrie had channelled any childish Christmas fantasies into her love of Christmas movies. Since his death, and losing her baby, she’d seen spending Christmas by herself as a sort of penance.
‘What are you doing on Christmas Day?’ asked Massimo.
‘I have the day off.’
‘I know you do. What are you doing?’
‘Taking it easy.’
‘I’ve given all the staff the day off.’
‘You usually do,’ Carrie pointed out.
Massimo was rarely here for Christmas himself—he’d usually be abroad. Christmas and New Year were high season for parties and philanthropy.
‘Well, it looks like it’ll just be the two of us here, then.’
Carrie was suspicious. ‘I won’t disturb you.’
‘It would be very sad if we were both alone in the house on Christmas Day and didn’t even share dinner together.’
‘There’s no one to cook it.’
She could cook it. She wouldn’t mind cooking it. But cooking an intimate Christmas dinner for Massimo would be both far too seductive and terrifying.
‘Chef is going to leave an idiot-proof Christmas dinner. All I have to do is heat it up for us.’
‘Us.’
‘Yes,us. I’m not taking no for an answer.’
He’d turned and walked away before Carrie could formulate a response.
After all her successful efforts to avoid Massimo, how had it happened that she was now going to be spending Christmas with him?
Feeling ridiculously nervous, Carrie made her way to meet Massimo on Christmas Day, late afternoon. Sounds emerged from the kitchen. The loud clatter of metal on tiles and a voluble curse.
Carrie couldn’t help a smile and bit her lip as she stood in the doorway and surveyed the scene. Massimo had his back to her. He was wearing a white shirt and black trousers, and he was holding up a saucepan and looking at it as if he’d never seen one before. Which he might well not have, up close.
As if sensing her presence, he turned around with a rueful expression on his face. His gaze swept her up and down, and to Carrie’s mortification she felt the heat of it, when she knew there was no heat intended. As soon as she’d told him of her pregnancy, any desire he’d had for her had died a death.
She regretted picking out the soft jersey dress in dark green. Pairing it with tights and high heels. She felt too conspicuously dressed up, and the material of the dress felt too clingy. Especially around her burgeoning midriff, which seemed to be going through a growth spurt.
She regretted leaving her hair down too—had she done that subconsciously? Was her own brain trying to betray her? It was too late in any case to do anything about it.
‘Are you having some trouble?’ she asked, walking into the kitchen.
Sounding a little defensive, he said, ‘I’m not sure which pan to use to heat the gravy.’
Carrie walked over and opened a drawer and pulled out a small one. ‘This one should do.’
There was a piece of paper on the counter-top with a list of things to do in sequential order to prepare the meal.
Carrie took pity on Massimo and put on an apron after handing him one. ‘Let me help.’
They worked in a surprisingly companionable silence as they moved back and forth, taking the food Chef had prepared out of its packaging and putting it into the oven to heat.
Once everything was heating, Massimo said, ‘You can go upstairs. I’ll bring the food once it’s ready.’
