Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
I watch the lights shining in on the car casting shadows across his face. “Thank you for today.”
“Shhh.” Dec hushes me quietly, offering his hand, and I accept and weave our fingers together. “Come home with me,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road. “We can take that shower we both need.”
“And Albi?”
“He’s going through until seven, trust me.”
“Okay,” I agree easily. “If you’re comfortable with that.”
“I’m not the concern here, Camryn. Neither is Albi.” He finally looks at me. “Are you comfortable?”
I nod. “I couldn’t think of a better way to end today.”
After we stop by my place to pick up some things and check in on Mr. Percival, we drive to Dec’s in comfortable silence. Lynette opens the door before Dec makes it there, Albi draped over his shoulder, flat out. There’s a suitcase in the hallway, and Lynette is wrapped up in a long duffle coat, her gloves in her hand. “I was hoping I’d get to say goodbye,” she whispers, pulling the pink fabric away from Albi’s face and dropping a light kiss on his cheek. “Will you have him FaceTime me tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Dec nods to a gift bag in the corner. “That’s for you. From Albi.” He dips and kisses her cheek. “Have Ron carry your case.”
“Of course.”
“Have a great Christmas with your family, Lynette.” Dec starts up the stairs, and I can’t help my smile following him, Albi’s little cheek squished against his shoulder.
“You too.” Lynette turns a smile my way as she collects the gift bag. “Look after them while I’m gone,” she says, almost reluctantly, as Ron appears on the doorstep and takes her case.
“I will.” She doesn’t realise that it’s them looking after me. “Safe journey.”
Ron nods my way as Lynette steps out into the cold and closes the door behind them, leaving me alone in the hallway. I lower my bag and hang my coat on the stand, going to the playroom door and pushing it open. Hovering on the threshold, I take in the colourful space. It’s a mess, toys strewn all over the floor, colouring pens scattered across the tiny wooden table in the corner, books stacked chaotically on the mini bookcase under the window.
A perfect mess.
I back out and wander down the hallway, poking my head around the other doors before the kitchen. The study opposite the playroom. The downstairs loo.
A set of closed double doors lure me there, and I push them open to reveal a beautiful formal lounge . . . and a Christmas tree to rival Rockefeller Center. I inhale my surprise, blindly kicking my trainers off before I tread on the lush cream carpet, dazzled by the tree that’s drenched in gold glass baubles, satin bows, and thousands of warm twinkling fairy lights. Piles of gifts surround the base, a huge gold-encrusted star perched atop. I wander over and the closer I get, I see there’s pictures in the baubles. All of Dec and Albi, ranging from when he was a baby, to now. My heart can’t take it, and I press my palm into my chest, looking closely at each and every one of them. All gorgeous. Father and son.
Each other’s worlds.
I feel my eyes welling for an entirely different reason. Not for what I’ve lost . . . but for what Dec has. I roughly wipe my face, turning, coming face to face with a large piece of art over the fireplace, a collage of pictures all in black and white. All smiles. All laughter. All them.
Two velvet stockings hang from the oak hearth with their names stitched into the white fluffy edging.
Albi.
Daddy.
Will I fit here? They’re so complete. Whole.
Feeling a little overwhelmed, I move to one of the giant cream suede couches that frame the fireplace and lower, staring up at the pictures. I had something similar, all pictures of Noah. It’s still wrapped up in paper, still hidden away in a cupboard. And the stockings, we did that. Had our names embroidered into our own. Two smaller stockings for Mummy and Daddy flanking Noah’s larger one.
My chest constricts, and I stand, leaving the room in a rush and closing the doors behind me. Dec’s coming down the stairs, and he stops halfway when he sees me. Or more registers my blotchy face. He sighs and treads down the remaining stairs, pulling me in for a hug.
I never knew how soothing a simple hug could be. “It’s a beautiful room,” I say into his shoulder.
“It’s our favourite.” Pulling out, he checks my eyes for tears, running the pad of his thumb beneath each. “Come” He clasps my hand and leads me up the stairs.
The bedroom is basked in a faint apricot glow from the bedside lamps, the curtains drawn. Dec walks us through to his bathroom, turns the shower on, and strips me down, then himself, leaving our clothes in a mixed pile on the floor.