Page 46 of Not Just for Christmas

‘On the other hand, that Nick seemed very nice,’ she said, ‘And he’s obviously local, you could do a lot worse.’

‘He is nice,’ I said, not wanting to be drawn on the topic. ‘But for now, I’m glad that the man Jack wanted as our son’s godfather is here for him.’

‘I’ve said my piece,’ said Heather, getting to her feet. ‘I only say it with love. I should get home. I’ve got to finish packing for my Vienna trip. We’re off tomorrow.’

I stood up to see her out, trying not to feel too jealous of her freedom to disappear off on holiday. She’d put in years of hard work at the farm, now was her time to enjoy life.

Five minutes later, I was clearing up in the kitchen when Dylan came in with a heavy sigh.

‘Everything OK?’ I asked, stacking the dishwasher.

‘Just work. Nothing to worry about,’ he said, coming to help me.

‘Sure?’

He looked at me for a long moment as if weighing up how much to say. ‘I look at my life now and remember that once upon a time this was everything I wanted. For music to be my life.’

‘And now?’

‘Now I wonder if I really am just a clown.’ He hitched up his eyebrows.

‘You heard Heather?’ I cringed. ‘I’m sorry.’

He picked up the milk jug and put it in the fridge. ‘She’s his mom, she’s hurting, I get it. It’s natural that she would have wanted Jack to see his boy on stage today, not me. And she’s got a point – I’m not really needed by anyone.’

I waited for him to smile and acknowledge that he was joking. He couldn’t really believe that? His eyes slid away from mine but not before I’d seen the hurt in them.

‘Hey.’ I crossed the kitchen and held out my arms to him. ‘Today Sam needed you and you came through for him. He’ll remember that forever, so thank you.’

‘Spending time with Sam is no hardship, it’s a joy.’ Dylan hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around me. ‘As is spending time with you.’

Dylan rocked us from side to side, and my arms automatically tightened around his neck. I’d missed this: the feel of strong arms around me, comforting, holding me up, letting me know I wasn’t alone. The steady thud of his heart was beating softly in my ear and I inhaled the scent of his cologne. Wood and vanilla. It was his signature scent; he’d been wearing the same one for years. I had a sudden flash of déjà vu to another hug, another kitchen, and tore myself away from him so abruptly that both of us stumbled.

‘That’s a lovely thing to say,’ I said, flustered. ‘Bathtime. For Sam. I’m going to just …’

I turned and hurried from the room before he noticed the heat blooming in my cheeks. This was Sam’s godfather, Jack’s best friend, my friend. And that hug had affected me more than it should have.

Chapter 22

Dylan wandered through the farmhouse, phone in hand, the sounds of bathtime coming from upstairs. Lucy yelling at Sam for splashing her, Sam squealing with joy.

Fun times. Family life. He yearned for that.

He’d been here less than twenty-four hours and he was already thinking how much he was going to miss hearing Sam’s laughter. The kid had been a star on that stage earlier and Dylan couldn’t have been prouder if Sam had been his own child. There were flashes of Jack in his son that made Dylan’s breath catch: the way he tilted his head to the side when he was thinking, his easy charm; and his tufty blond hair had exactly the same kinks as Jack’s had.

He felt a pull deep in his stomach and paused at the foot of the stairs, wanting to go up and join in, but not wanting to intrude. He could still feel the imprint of Lucy’s body against his from their hug earlier. A part of him felt guilty about the thoughts he was having about her, but he’d never act on them, he cared too much about her to risk their friendship. With regret, he tore himself away from the hallway and went into the kitchen instead.

His phone had been flashing and buzzing with TikTok and Instagram notifications for the last couple of hours. He’d been tagged in stuff about the school Nativity and word had spread that he was in Devon.

He sighed wearily as he cleared the screen of messages. He was hardly a global superstar, he didn’t have security and didn’t worry about stalkers, but it probably meant that a quiet drink in the local pub was unlikely to stay quiet for long. But he didn’t want that to stop him going out with Lucy and Sam while he was here, he’d just have to avoid busy places as much as he could.

Like the lifeboat launch. He might be the one who’d paid for it, but he had donated anonymously for a reason: he didn’t want to make it about him. The same went for its launch. Even if nobody knew about his involvement, the media coverage would be about Dylan Wilde and not about the work of the RNLI.

He liked the idea of Lucy and Sam being guests of honour; it would be far more meaningful for them to have that special moment, to take heart from the knowledge that a new lifeboat would make Craggy Bay a safer place. He hadn’t wanted to spend any time away from the farm while he was here, but the event clashing with his media interviews gave him a good excuse not to be there.

Gus jumped up from his bed in front of the Aga, grabbed a rope toy and dropped it at Dylan’s feet.

‘Wanna play?’ Dylan picked up one end of the toy and Gus the other, wagging his tail merrily as he tried to tug it out of Dylan’s hand.