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She shuffled a little, then nodded. “Yeah, but don’t think you’re getting away with not telling me what’s going on.”
Dropping to my haunches, I took both her hands in mine. “It’s Steven Brownlow.”
“The man who says he’s your dad?”
“Yeah, he’s on his way round here. Marcus just called to let me know he’d been in the bar looking for me, and when I wasn’t there, he said he was coming here.”
“For what?” She reached up and smoothed her finger along the crease that she said I had. “Stop it, or it’ll stick, and you’ll look permanently puzzled.”
Chuckling, I turned my head and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I don’t let it spoil my good looks.”
“Good because I really can’t have a boyfriend I can barely look at.” She started to giggle, then winced. “Ooh that hurts.”
“Well, I’d better make sure that I don’t make you laugh then.”
“No.” She sighed heavily. “I need you to keep doing that because if I don’t I might cry.” Her bottom lip trembled. “And I don’t want to, not again.”
“If you want to cry, then cry. It’s fine.” Kissing her forehead, I wished that she wasn’t having to go through everything.
She took a deep breath. “No, I don’t want to cry.”
“But do you need to?” I cocked my head on one side and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her response.
She thought about it for a few seconds, wiped her nose with her hand, then shook her head. “Nope. As long as you’re here, I don’t need to cry.”
“Just remember that if you do feel like crying, then do it and I’ll still be here.”
Brushing Maya’s hair from her face, I thought about kissing her, but when the doorbell rang, I knew my window of opportunity was gone.
“Shit,” I groaned, resting my forehead against hers. “He’s here.”
Her hand smoothed down my cheek, and instantly the anger that had been building started to subside, just a little.
“Go and see what he wants and don’t lose your temper.”
“Okay.” I stretched to my feet. “I’ll try not to lose it with him.”
With a last kiss to Maya’s head, I slowly made my way to the door shouting that I was on my way when the doorbell rang again.
When I swung the door open, Steven’s hand was reaching out, as though he was going to knock or ring the bell again.
“I said I was coming, now what do you want?”
“Seems like you knew I was on my way here.” He looked me up and down and I didn’t fail to notice the slight smirk on lips. He certainly didn’t come across as a man who was desperate to reconcile with his long-lost son.
“Marcus called me, so what do you want?”
“Can I come in?” He placed a foot on the doorstep, but I pulled the door to me, closing the gap.
“No.” I jutted out my chin in defiance. “So?”
There was a resigned sag to his shoulders, and for a moment, he looked like an old man. Defeated and old. If I’d been a better person, I might have felt a glimmer of sympathy, but I didn’t. Not one little bit.
“This would be much better if I could come inside.”
I cleared my throat, using the pause to consider how I kicked a sixty-odd-year-old bloke from my property without causing him any harm.
“I really need to speak to you, William.” I shot him a glance. “Sorry, Will.”
