“Do you need a hand with anything?” Joel leans against the door to the kitchen, his t-shirt rising up just enough to expose the curve of that muscle that slides deliciously into his pants. Hmmm, the Adonis belt. “Earth to Regan, can you get your mind out of my pants for five minutes? We have to keep it PG remember?”
“What? Yes…no, I’ve got it all under control.” Unable to hide my wayward thoughts, I curse my skin, which is flashing seven colours of red from being caught.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I can do more than reheat these days, Joel, or were the pancakes not the fluffiest things this side of heaven?” I rightly boast.
“I ate ten. I think that answers that question.” He pats his irritatingly flat stomach, and my eyes zero in on his hand as it drops lower and lower still. “I’m loving the new skills you’ve picked up, and not just in the kitchen.”
“Joel…” I say his name as a warning.
“Fine, but it’s going to be really hard…no pun intended.” He cups his cock, and I laugh, a short, sharp, and incredulous sound.
“Oh, really?”
“A little intended.” He waggles his brows playfully, and then his tongue sweeps across his lips so slowly I know under that fine layer of mischief there is nothing remotely playful about his intentions. “I actually meant you’ve peeled enough potatoes for an army, but there doesn’t seem to be much else going on.”
“That’s because I have the smallest kitchen known to man and I’ve had to divide to conquer this festive feast. Bobbie and Ophelia from next door are bringing the turkey. Harper is in charge of other veggies. Cameron is bringing the ham. Scarlett and Nora are bringing the Christmas pudding, and Mila and Jack manage the French restaurant in town and are bringing the extra plates and glasses. Oh, and wine and cheese, obviously.”
“Wow, that is organised and where is everyone going to sit?”
“Between me and Ophelia we have enough chairs and she has a foldaway table. Its cramped, but no one seems to mind. I know I’ve lived in the States since I was little, but Mum never really did Thanksgiving. Don’t get me wrong; she didn’t really do Christmas, either, but I do still remember some that were good. I wanted Ruby to experience a little bit of her British heritage and a roast dinner is a tad more affordable than a trip to England. I shrug and finish the last potato, plopping it in with the rest in a large pan on the cooker. I wipe my hands clean and take a sip of my beer. Joel sips his coke, his eyes fixed on me with unnerving intensity. I puff out a breath and finish wiping down the surfaces for something to do. The short silence is equally unsettling. “We’ve done this since she was a baby, so if they do mind, they’ve never said. And trust me, not one of them holds back.”
“That sounded like a warning,” he muses.
“It was,” I confirm and take another sip from my bottle. Even at this rate, I’m going to be smashed by the time we sit to eat this afternoon.
“Joel, come and play, please. You too, Momma.” Ruby squeezes past his legs and bounces into the room excitedly waving her arms. She stops when she spots the mini mince pies on the counter that are well within her reach. Her hand hovers, and she grins widely in my direction.
“Can I have a pie, momma?” Ruby tries to steady her excited breathing, which is causing her to wheeze. If she doesn’t calm down, she knows I will have to get the ventilator to balance her oxygen intake, and that means sitting quietly for way too long on any morning, let alone Christmas.
“Yes, please have more sugar.” My sarcastic response garners some giggling as she snatches the pastry and takes a nibble at the edge before a much larger bite. Her mouth bulges, and she scuttles back into the living room, happiness bursting infectiously from every pore in her little body. She sits quietly, crossed-legged on the floor, surrounded by wrapping paper and presents. She doesn’t start to play with anything, though, and when she smiles back at me, I couldn’t be prouder. She holds one hand on her chest and rests the other on her knee, finger and thumb touching as she takes in deep and steady breaths and calms the strain on her delicate lungs using a meditation technique I taught her.
“She never misses a morning meditation. It’s a ritual.” I fib when Joel looks more than a little confused at Ruby’s unusual behaviour. I’m not sure he’s taken in, but her condition is really none of his business; she’s not his patient. “Thank you, again.” I walk over to Joel and place my hand on his chest and tap my fingers lightly over the soft cotton of his t-shirt. He presses them flat with his own and I can easily feel the steady, strong beat of his heart.
“You can stop thanking me, Regan, I got way more pleasure seeing her little face light up. For the sake of the few extra bucks I have to spend on buying some more presents, it’s a no-brainer.”
“A few bucks?” I scoff and fruitlessly try to pull my hand free, the heat from our connection melting more than my panties.
“The necklace was a little much, but everything else—”
“Was perfect.” I interrupt. He beams his killer smile down at me. “Well, maybe not the unicorn poo, but the puzzles, jewellery making, the snow globe. Other than the kids’ Kindle, the rest is what was actually stolen from my car. Are you close with your goddaughter?” He releases my hand, and I step back, desperately needing the distance.
“Not really. She lives in New York. I went to Yale with her father, but I like to think I listen to my patients.” He drags his hand through the long strands of hair that have fallen into his eyes and flashes a shy smile. Regardless of our history, I can’t fault him as a doctor. He takes time with the children, and they adore him.
“Ah, yes, of course. Well, I’m very grateful that your godchild is a daughter, not a son, or I would have to spend the day explaining to Ruby why Santa was gender swapping presents this year.”
“Kids like what they like; it’s parents that fuck them up.”
“Thanks.”
“You know I don’t mean you. You’ve done an incredible job, and Ruby is amazing. She’s the reason you switched from med school to nursing, right?” He arches back and looks affectionately toward the sounds of laughter coming from the living room. I squeeze through the narrow doorframe and marvel at the simple sight of Ruby dancing around in her new fluffy white unicorn slippers.
“I deferred for a year and tried everything to make the numbers work but there was just no way I could afford it. I could transfer my credits, though, and qualify as a nurse on the accelerated BSN in two years. I scoured the internet for all and any awards and grants available. Believe me, if there had been any way…” My voice drifts as I focus on my little girl. I feel the warm burst of pride and pure love saturate and silence me. I shrug and smile at Joel. “I did manage to find an obscure grant for single parents studying nursing that I qualified for. It covered Ruby’s childcare for the first year. I didn’t really have a choice but I wouldn’t have chosen any different. We do okay.”
“I can see that. Nevertheless, you know what I mean. How often do we try and mend the broken pieces of a child when we know full well they will never be truly fixed because of some asshole parent. We fix what we can, but for every physical scar, we both know there’s often a deeper psychological one that may never heal.”
“Everyone has baggage, Joel, even those with perfect childhoods and the best parents.”
“True, I’m sorry. It just doesn’t get easier, treating abused children in this day and age.”
“I would hope it never gets easy.”
“Again, not what I meant.”
“I know…I know. I feel the same, by the way, not everyone should be a parent. I really get that now, not that I regret a single moment, but it’s hard and there have been times when—” My jaw clenches shut, and my stomach knots with a sick tightness and with shame.
“When?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head and quickly lock the disturbing memory back in its box.
“It must’ve been hard on your own.” His statement is redundant, even if it sounds very much like an invitation to share.
“I was never on my own, Joel. I had Ruby.” I close and flick the lock on that door. “Come on, lets go and make some chunky wooden jewellery.”