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Lucy rolled her eyes, but half-heartedly. He probably had a point.

He placed a plate of spaghetti bolognese in front of her.

“Thank you,” she said, digging in. “Oh my goodness, this is amazing!” Lucy managed to say in between mouthfuls. What was it about his cooking that was just so good?

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, watching her demolish her plate of food with wide eyes.

“Wow,” she said, finishing up just a couple of minutes later.

“Um,” Dylan began, suddenly very intent on staring at his plate, “Was the decorating I did really good enough? I won’t be offended if you want to change it.”

Lucy put down the glass she was about to take a sip from. This was unexpected. “It’s brilliant!” she reassured him.

“Phew,” Dylan said. “I’ve never decorated for Christmas before. I didn’t know if I’d gone a bit over the top.”

“Christmas should be a bit over the top and I love it. But what about all the new stuff? I was going to mention it earlier, but your delicious food distracted me.”

Dylan smiled. “It looked a bit bare so I popped out to that pop-up Christmas shop that’s opened on the road to Plymouth.”

“And to the supermarket to get the stuff for dinner?”

“Grabbed it on the way back,” he explained.

“Thank you. The extra stuff does definitely make it more Christmassy. You kept the receipts though, so we can claim them as a business expense?”

“I did,” Dylan confirmed.

“I can’t believe you’ve never decorated for Christmas before. How is that possible?”

Dylan rubbed his hands together. “Um, well I moved around a lot of places when I was a kid, and I’ve just never bothered since living on my own.” He looked uncomfortable, not meeting her eye.

“I’m sorry,” said Lucy, instinctively putting her hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s OK,” Dylan replied. “I was in foster care from the age of three, basically. There were a couple of very short-lived attempts to reunite me with my parents, but they failed miserably. I haven’t seen either of them for over thirty years now. Anyway, I wasn’t exactly the easiest of kids and I didn’t tend to last in a placement for long. A couple of the families I lived with over Christmas tried to get me involved, but I always just felt like such an outsider, so I’d refuse.”

“Dylan, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”

Dylan shrugged. “It is what it is. And I’m eternally grateful to Michael for keeping me on at least some sort of straight and narrow during our teenage years. It was essentially only because of him that I didn’t drop out of school as soon as I turned sixteen.”

“Wow . . .”

“Yeah.” Another shrug. “He was the constant for me. Him and Peter, the bookbinder he took over the business from.”

“I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly something I shout from the rooftops, but there it is. So that’s why I’m more than a little freaked out about becoming a father because I really don’t know how to do it. I never really experienced having a father. Not one I could rely on anyway. What if I can’t do it because I’ve never been shown how?” Dylan asked. “I never even had a grandad or an uncle to teach me how to be a father.”

“Dylan,” Lucy said gently, her heart aching at his revelation. “You are so thoughtful and caring. So good at taking care of other people. Look how you look after me and our Little Plum.”

Dylan gave a little smile. “That’s sweet, but all I’ve done is feed you a bit and swept some floors.”

“You’ve definitely made life easier for me. And it’s not just me that you help. It’s Ellen, and Mary and Michael—”

“Computer stuff mainly.”

“Picking up shopping for Mary when she’s not feeling well is not computer work. And, why do you think Michael and Carrie are so happy for you to help out with Poppy, and Layla when she was little?”

“They know I love those girls, and, of course, I’d help out my mates.”