‘Daddy, I don’t like sprouts.’ Tilly patted Ethan’s arm.
‘No, I know, sweetheart, so just leave them on the side of your plate.’
‘But they’re making my gravy taste funny. It’s like the smell of a ten-pence bit in my mouth.’
Ethan gazed down at his daughter and had to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid laughing. She looked so serious and her big brown eyes were framed by a small, indignant frown.
‘What’s wrong, Tilly?’ Scarlett leant towards her.
Tilly glanced at Ethan then back at Scarlett. ‘It’s these bloody things.’ She pushed the two dark green orbs around her plate. ‘They’re like balls of snot.’
‘Tilly!’ Ethan shook his head. ‘You can’t say that.’
‘Sorry, Daddy. They’re like bloody balls of boogies.’
Ethan met Audrey’s eyes over the table and saw that she was shaking with laughter. A snort escaped him, then another, and soon the entire family was laughing.
‘Tilly, love, leave them. It’s fine.’ Audrey waved a hand. ‘I forgot that most children don’t like sprouts, so don’t worry about eating them.’
‘They’re making my gravy taste funny.’ Tilly pouted.
‘Here, I’ll take them.’ Ethan lifted the sprouts with his fork and set them on his plate. ‘How’s that?’
‘Much better, Daddy, thank you.’
Tilly resumed eating her dinner, now the picture of innocence and good behaviour.
‘Aunty Audrey?’ Tilly piped up again and Ethan held his breath, wondering what was coming next.
‘Yes?’
‘Why are we having Sunday dinner on a Thursday?’
‘Well, it’s not Sunday dinner today, Tilly, is it? It’s just a cooked dinner.’
‘A cooked dinner?’ Tilly frowned. ‘But aren’t all dinners cooked?’
‘Yes, love, a lot of them are, but not all.’
Tilly nodded. ‘Some are cold like salad and ham.’
‘That’s right.’ Audrey inclined her head.
‘Are you excited about tomorrow?’ Gary asked.
‘What’s tomorrow?’ Tilly frowned.
‘Decorating the tea shop and the big tree in the yard ready for Christmas.’ Scarlett wiggled her thick black brows, making Ethan think of fat caterpillars or slugs as they moved across the ground.
‘Wow!’ Tilly looked up at Ethan. ‘Did you hear that, Daddy? Christmas decorations! It will be… amaaa–zing.’ Her excitement was clear in the way that she elongated the vowel sound.
‘It will.’
‘And Santa will know exactly where to come this year, won’t he, Daddy? And he will tell Mummy and everything and she’ll know how to find us.’ Tilly’s words poured out in a torrent, revealing her thought process and her main concerns about the festive season.
Ethan’s heart squeezed. ‘Mummy knows where we are, Tilly, if she needs us.’
‘I wish she was coming for Christmas.’ Tilly pushed a potato around her plate. ‘Glitterbug says she wishes Mummy was coming too. Mummy could eat all my sprouts and then she might be happy to be here. Because last time we spoke she said that she’s a vegetarian now. And they like sprouts, don’t they, Daddy?’
‘Yes, vegetarians like sprouts and all sorts of vegetables.’ Ethan reached out and ran a hand over Tilly’s hair. Around the table, his family had fallen quiet and he knew they were feeling bad for Tilly too.
‘Will Mummy be lonely at Christmas?’ Tilly asked. ‘My teacher said people without families often get lonely… especially at Christmas.’
‘Mummy will be all right.’ Ethan gulped. There was such a fine line between being completely honest with Tilly and sparing her some details that would simply hurt her. Like that fact that Melanie would never want to spend the holidays in Cornwall and would rather die than sit around a family table eating a turkey dinner with all the trimmings, even before she turned vegetarian. It just wasn’t who Melanie was or how she liked to be perceived.
‘What about all the other lonely people?’ Tilly put her fork down and looked around the table. Her eyes were wide and earnest. ‘We’re okay because we have family, so we are very lucky, but some people won’t be. Some people will be very lonely at Christmas and they probably wish they had somewhere to go.’
Ethan’s throat ached and he couldn’t think of a reply. Tilly was right. He’d been lonely over Christmas and would have loved to have had some company – another adult to pull a cracker with, to talk to as they ate and to sit with afterwards.
‘I have an idea.’ Ethan took a deep breath and met Audrey’s warm gaze. ‘About Christmas Day.’
Audrey put her knife and fork down and steepled her fingers in front of her, showing her willingness to listen.
‘I don’t want to overstep the mark, what with me being a new arrival and all that, but how about if we don’t have Christmas dinner here?’
‘I think I know where you’re going with this.’ Audrey smiled.
‘What do you mean, Mum?’ Harper asked.
‘Just listen for a moment, Harper. Carry on, Ethan.’ Audrey nodded.
‘How about if we have it at the tea shop?’ Ethan held his breath.
‘But why?’ Gary shrugged. ‘We always have dinner here at home around the table.’
‘So do most people with families,’ Ethan said, ‘but some people don’t have that and would benefit from a place that opened its doors on Christmas Day.’
A silence fell around the table as everyone digested the idea.
‘Ethan and Tilly have made a very good point.’ Audrey nodded. ‘Why stick to just us when we could share Christmas with others? Surely more people would mean more festive joy? Let’s open the doors of the tea shop to all the lonely people of Penhallow Sands.’
Goosebumps rose on Ethan’s arms. How he had wished for someone by his side at times, sharing the same hopes and fears he’d known. He’d worried about what Tilly could be missing out on over the years and spent many lonely nights in front of the TV after she’d gone to bed. He’d eaten many meals with Tilly but many times alone if she was in school or if she was at a friend’s. There had been countless times when he’d have appreciated some company, some compassion, some friendship.
‘I think it’s a wonderful idea, but only if you all agree.’ Ethan looked around the table at his relatives. ‘We can cook up a feast and share it with anyone who would be spending Christmas Day alone.’
His mind flashed to Fran. Who did she spend Christmas Day with if her parents were away and there was no man in her life? He still wasn’t sure about that one, of course, but he’d hate to think of her being alone, eating a meal for one. Now that she was expecting, she needed someone to look out for her more than ever. He found that he wanted to look out for her, to make her feel that she had people to turn to. Not that she seemed at all vulnerable or needy but everyone should have some people to rely on.
‘Let’s do it then.’ Audrey raised her wine glass. ‘To sharing the festive cheer!’
Around the table, Ethan’s family nodded their approval. Thankfully they all seemed just as keen to share Christmas with others. Ethan clinked his glass against Tilly’s and something inside him gave a small leap. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, but it was nice nonetheless. He thought it might actually be excitement, but he’d settle for hope. Hope was a good feeling.
At last, after years of feeling that there wasn’t much for him to do – other than to be the best dad he could be, and that was nothing to sniff at – he now had another purpose. He could share in making the lives of others better, even if only for one day of the year, and what better day to improve things for those in need than Christmas Day? They could create a delicious dinner and offer it free to the lonely people of the village, and in doing so, create a better festive experience for everyone who came.
Wasn’t that what Christmas was all about, anyway?
The next morning, after Ethan had dropped Tilly at school, he went to the small grocers in the village and picked up a box of chocolates and a bunch of colourful tulips. Over dinner with his family last night, the discussion had moved on from Christmas plans for the tea shop to how Ethan was settling in. There had been discussion of locals and Fran had been one of those mentioned. As Audrey had spoken about Fran’s kindness to animals and people and about how she always had a cheery disposition, whatever she was going through personally – even when her best friend, Holly, had disappeared for months – Ethan had felt a dark cloud descend over him. He hadn’t been very nice to Fran yesterday about her dogs and it wasn’t her fault or the fault of her four-legged companions. She had no idea what had happened to him, so how could she have understood his discomfort around creatures of the canine variety?
Therefore, he had decided to take her some flowers and chocolates to apologise and so that he could explain to her exactly why he’d behaved as he had the previous day. She had been nothing other than nice to him and she certainly didn’t deserve to feel bad just because Ethan had a phobia of dogs. It was something he’d always wished he could overcome, something he’d always pushed away, but sometimes it was the right time to face your fears and to move on. This seemed like one of those times.
He drove up to Fran’s cottage and parked outside, relieved to see that her car was there. If he’d had to come back, he might have lost his nerve. He liked Fran but he wasn’t used to trying to deal with women and their moods and had no idea if she would be at all receptive to his apology. From what he’d seen of her though, she was warm and friendly, so he was cautiously optimistic.
He knocked on the door and flinched at the sound of barking from inside. It seemed to echo around the cottage as if it were reverberating off the walls and when the door opened, it would burst out and knock him off his feet. He braced himself, preparing to see the dogs – and not run away – when she opened the door. However, as the door swung open, he wasn’t expecting to see Fran looking quite so delectable.
His breath caught in his throat, because she looked utterly gorgeous. She was wearing denim dungarees over a tight navy vest top, her small feet were bare, exposing bright pink toenails, and she had a red and navy scarf tied around her hair. Her red-framed glasses were different than the ones he’d seen her wearing so far and they matched the natural red of her kissable lips. Her face was free of makeup but she had a lovely glow to her cheeks and her indigo eyes were like deep lagoons that he could have plunged right into.
‘Ethan! Hello.’ She frowned. ‘Did I give you another wrong box?’
‘No… no. Not at all.’ He held out the flowers and chocolates. ‘I just wanted to apologise for yesterday.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘I thought I might have been a bit rude or uh… blunt about the dogs.’
Her expression softened. ‘Not at all. Honestly, I wasn’t offended.’
Relief flooded through him and he realised exactly how worried he’d been that he might have upset her.
‘Well, these are for you anyway.’
‘Thank you, although you shouldn’t have.’
She took the chocolates and flowers and sniffed the blooms. As she did so, her eyes closed and a spark of desire shot through Ethan, nearly unbalancing him. His heart raced and as he exhaled, his breath sounded shaky to his own ears, and he wondered if Fran had picked up on it too, but she appeared to be oblivious to the effect she was having upon him.
‘Excuse the state of me but I was in my workshop.’
‘You look incredible.’ He started, realising what he’d said.
‘Incredible?’ She rubbed at her cheek with the back of her hand. ‘I’m probably covered in clay and dog hair.’
He peered at her. ‘There is a tiny bit of clay there.’ He gently rubbed at her cheek below her glasses, then raised his eyes to meet hers. The way she was looking at him made his racing heart skip a beat and something else, something primitive, stirred inside him. He cleared his throat, trying to reset his body, to return his vital signs to normal.
‘Would you like to come in and have a coffee?’ she asked.
‘I don’t want to disturb you when you’re working.’
‘I was going to take a break anyway. I can lock the dogs in the lounge if they’re making you nervous.’
He straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest. ‘It’s fine. I need to get over this stupid fear anyway.’
‘It’s a fear?’
‘I’ll tell you about it over coffee.’ He sighed. ‘It’s all a bit embarrassing, to be honest.’
She nodded. ‘Come on in then.’
In the kitchen, Ethan sat at the wooden table and looked around while Fran boiled the kettle. Thick dark beams lined the white ceiling, hinting at the age of the cottage, there was an old yellow Aga against the back wall, an apron-fronted sink and the cabinets had green wooden doors – some were missing handles. It was a warm, lived-in family kitchen and the aroma of spices and woodsmoke hung in the air. It suited Fran and he realised that it was the type of home he’d expected to find her living in. She didn’t seem the type to reside in a swanky new apartment with shiny surfaces and chrome gadgets, or to live somewhere spotlessly minimalist. Fran was an artist, a collector, and her home reflected her personality. Ethan liked it instantly and felt himself relax as the heat from the Aga filled the room. He could happily sit here all day, even with the dogs eyeing him from their beds, which were placed wherever there was space in the kitchen. They didn’t look as though they were going to pounce on him or as if they resented his presence; in fact, now that they’d settled, they seemed indifferent to him. He’d take indifference over growling any day.
‘Milk and sugar?’ Fran asked.
‘Just milk, please.’
Fran brought two mugs to the table and set them down.
A low grumbling from under the table made them both peer beneath it to see the little white dog that had growled at Ethan yesterday. Fran reached out a hand and the dog shuffled over to her and licked her fingers.
‘Come here, boy.’
She lifted the small white dog onto her lap and he sat there staring across the table at Ethan. His shoulders tightened, but he vowed to remain calm. This was Fran’s home, the other dogs weren’t bothered by him being there, and this tiny dog couldn’t do any harm, could it?
‘I don’t think he likes me.’ It was worth checking what Fran thought.
‘He doesn’t know you to dislike you.’ Fran rubbed the dog’s ears. ‘I think he must have had an unpleasant experience with a man at some point because he seems fine with women.’
‘Poor boy. Will you keep him?’
The dog tilted its head and sniffed at the air.
‘He’s settling in and my dogs have made him welcome, but I don’t know yet. It depends if I can find someone who’ll adopt him. I’m always happy to take dogs in but I have so many passing through here that if I adopted every single one, I wouldn’t have any room left.’
‘Tilly would probably like to meet him.’
‘Does she like dogs?’
‘She loves animals of all sorts. She’s asked for rabbits, cats, dogs, you name it.’
‘I have cats here too but they tend to spend most of their time in the bedrooms or chasing mice and other small furries in the outbuildings. Sometimes they sneak upstairs to lie on the beds, but not every day. They’re far more independent than dogs.’
Ethan nodded. ‘I haven’t given in about getting a pet up to this point because we didn’t have anyone to help in Bath and the extra responsibility seemed daunting, but perhaps now we’re here, she can have a pet of some kind.’
‘Like a dog?’ Fran raised her eyebrows.
Ethan shuddered. ‘Uh… not sure about that. It’s a big step, that one.’
‘What happened to you to make you fear dogs so much?’
‘Simple story, really, although telling it always makes me flinch. I was about seven and I was playing in the park with some school friends. Two dogs were off their leads, playing in the adjacent field. One of them got a bit overexcited and ran into the park. For some reason, it decided that I looked like fun and it bit me.’ He felt warmth spread into his face. ‘Right on the bottom.’
‘No!’ Her eyes widened behind her glasses.
‘It did. I was wearing rather small shorts – well I was only young – and it took a chunk out of my left bum cheek.’ The area smarted now as if in response to the memory. He’d heard that people who lost limbs could still feel them itching or aching and sometimes he was convinced he was suffering from the same thing with his bum cheek.
‘So you have a part of your bottom missing?’ Fran wasn’t laughing but he could see the amusement battling concern in her eyes. He hoped she wasn’t going to ask for proof because it wasn’t an area he was keen to expose, especially in a room filled with dogs.
‘It’s nothing really, just a faint white scar now, but at the time I was so small that it looked far worse. And there was rather a lot of blood.’
‘Your poor thing. That must have been terrifying.’ Fran shook her head. ‘No wonder you’re scared of dogs.’
‘It wasn’t a great childhood experience and made me very wary of them.’
‘Well, of course it would. No one wants to lose a chunk of their bottom to a dog bite.’
‘The owner was horrified and explained that the dog was still basically a pup but my parents were furious, especially my mum. She would have had the dog put down but the owner promised to take it to training classes and to never let it off lead in public places again, so she relented.’
‘What about you, though?’
‘I couldn’t sit down properly for a while but I guess it could have been worse.’
Fran nodded. ‘It could have been far worse. It was lucky it wasn’t your face or neck.’
‘And that is why I’m nervous around dogs. In my experience, they’re unpredictable. It makes me worry for Tilly because she’s so keen to pet any animal she encounters and even though I’ve warned her that not all dogs are friendly, she still approaches them. Sometimes my heart is in my mouth when we go out.’
‘Yes, she does need to be a bit more careful because some dogs are nervous around children, although I can’t imagine Tilly invading a dog’s space in a way that would make it nervous enough to react aggressively. Dogs can be unpredictable, but when you’re around them a lot you get to know them and to understand their body language. I would never leave a small child alone with a dog, but as long as they’re trained and feel secure in their environment, they can be loyal and protective companions.’
The dog on her lap turned its head and licked her chin.
‘This little one will make a lovely pet once he’s calmed down and accepted that not everyone is out to hurt or abandon him. It’s about trust and mutual respect.’
‘A bit like people, then.’ Ethan stumbled over his words, knowing he’d revealed more than he intended. ‘What I mean is… that when we get hurt, it can take us time to heal and to accept that not everyone is out to get us or abandon us.’
‘Exactly.’ Fran nodded. ‘Trust has to be earned.’
‘Thanks for the coffee.’ Ethan drained his mug then set it on the table.
‘Any time.’
‘I guess I should get back. Cakes to bake and all that.’
‘If you don’t have to rush off right this minute… would you like to see my studio?’
Ethan met Fran’s pretty eyes. ‘I’d love to see it. Thank you.’
He hadn’t wanted to leave but also didn’t want to impose if Fran had things she needed to do. This was the perfect excuse to stay a bit longer at her invitation.
‘Come on then.’
Fran stood up and gently set the small dog on the floor, then led the way through the kitchen and through a door into a small extension.
Fran had been surprised to see Ethan on her doorstep that morning but also pleased. After he’d seemed afraid of the dogs, when he’d come to get the box of mugs for the tea shop, she’d been disappointed, but today he’d made an effort to explain why he was afraid of them and no wonder! If she’d been bitten by a dog as a child, and lost part of her bottom, she’d probably have felt the same.
She led him into her studio then closed the door behind her. The studio was warm from the log burner in the corner and brightly lit from the strip lights overhead. She needed to have good lighting in here so she could see exactly what she was doing. On summer days, there was plenty of natural light flooding in through the big windows, but on dark winter days and in the evenings when she had a project she needed to finish, she was glad of the electric lighting.
Ethan wandered around, peering at the work on the shelves ready to be boxed up and at the works in progress. The painting she was working on for Holly and Rich was on her easel, covered by a dust sheet.
‘What’s under here?’ he asked, fingering the corner of the sheet.
‘It’s a gift for Holly and Rich. They’re getting married after Christmas so I’m painting them a landscape of Greenacres.’
‘Are you one of those artists who doesn’t like people looking at their work until it’s finished?’ he asked.
Fran nodded. ‘Sorry.’
‘Hey, don’t apologise. I respect that. I’m the same when I’m baking a wedding cake. I guess it’s superstition really, but it’s a bit like the idea that the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other before the wedding in case it leads to bad luck. I always worry that something will go wrong and I’ll have to start from scratch and it’s a lot of work.’
‘You make wedding cakes?’
‘Sometimes.’ He shrugged. ‘They’re not my speciality but I do make them from time to time. At the moment, even though it’s a bit late in the day and they won’t have time to mature as well as I’d like, I need to focus on making more Christmas cakes, especially if we’re going to go ahead with our open doors for dinner on Christmas Day.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Last night, over dinner, we were talking about what we could do at the tea shop over the festive season and we agreed that we’d like to open the doors on Christmas Day to anyone who might be otherwise lonely. We’ll offer a free dinner and company and a chance for people to be with others instead of being alone.’
A flush spread across Fran’s décolletage. What a thoughtful man.
‘Ethan, that’s wonderful!’
He nodded. ‘I think so too.’
‘Lots of people don’t have anyone and to know that there’s somewhere they could go on Christmas Day for company and delicious food will be such a lift for them.’
‘What do you do on the big day?’
‘Sometimes I’m here alone with the dogs, sometimes I go to Greenacres and sometimes my parents are home. They won’t be here this year though.’
‘So… will you be going to Greenacres?’
She met his beautiful green eyes. ‘I have been invited but I also don’t like to impose. Holly and her family are lovely but this year they have so much on with their baby, Luke, and her granny Glenda has been a bit under the weather and they have the wedding right after Christmas and—’
‘Then come to Rosewood!’
They both froze. Ethan’s eyes widened. Fran’s heart thudded in her chest.
‘Shall I? I could help with everything. I’d see to the dogs in the morning then drive over for a few hours before coming home afterwards.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, come. There’ll be plenty to do and it would be lovely to have you there.’
‘Okay… I will.’
Fran was warmed right through by the offer and by the prospect of spending Christmas Day doing something worthwhile instead of just stuffing her face with turkey and consuming her bodyweight in chocolate or feeling that she was imposing on Holly’s family. It wasn’t that they ever made her feel unwelcome or as if she was imposing, but Holly had Rich and Luke and another baby on the way. The last thing she needed was more pressure and another mouth to feed, and although Fran would have helped with the cooking and washing up and so on, now she had an alternative and Holly wouldn’t feel bad if Fran didn’t go to Greenacres. Plus, she would get to spend Christmas Day with Ethan and Tilly, as well as Audrey and her family – all people she really liked and enjoyed being around. It sounded perfect.
‘So this is your potter’s wheel, eh?’
Ethan had straddled the stool attached to the table with the wheel on it. His long legs were bent at the knees and Fran couldn’t help noticing how muscular his thighs were in his jeans, hinting at the fact that he exercised regularly. She wondered how firm they would be if she touched them, if she ran her hands over them and up to…
She shook herself from the fantasy. What was happening to her?
‘Would you like to have a go?’ Fran forced the image of Ethan’s naked thighs from her mind.
‘I’ve never tried this before, but isn’t it really difficult?’
‘It takes some getting used to but it can be a lot of fun once you’ve mastered the skillset.’
‘Go on then, but I’ll probably be rubbish.’
‘I bet you’ll be a natural.’ Was it hot in the studio today? She ran the back of her hand over her forehead.
‘I’ll give it my best shot.’ He grinned and his face lit up.
Fran handed him a lump of clay. ‘Right… the first thing you need to do is to prepare the clay, which means that you need to get all the air out of it.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘It can cause the clay to crack during firing, which will ruin whatever you’ve made.’
‘Okay, so how do I get the air out?’
‘You knead it like bread dough. You should be good at that.’
‘I am good at making bread.’ He nodded.
Ethan started to knead the clay and Fran watched, mesmerised, as his strong hands worked it, turning it easily and expertly, twisting it to compress it so that the tiny air bubbles popped. She could have watched him work like that all day, and realised that she’d like to watch him making bread dough one day too. The bonus with that might be that she’d get to eat it afterwards and she did love freshly baked bread.
‘Is it ready now?’ he asked, holding it up for her inspection.
‘It looks good. Now we need to put the bat on the wheel to provide a surface for the clay.’
Fran selected one from her range and attached it to the wheel.
‘What am I making?’ he asked, a smile playing on his lips.
‘How about a bowl? You could give it to Audrey for Christmas.’
‘Brilliant idea.’
‘Place the clay on the centre of the bat and start the wheel.’
Ethan did as he was told.
‘Now apply water to the clay and push it up and down to ensure there’s no wobble.’
‘No… what?’
‘It means make sure that it’s centred so you don’t lose control of the clay.’
‘Okay…’
Fran stepped closer to Ethan. She was almost touching him and she could feel the heat emanating from his large frame. She watched carefully as he tried to run his hands up and down the clay. This was always tricky for beginners and she bit her lip as he struggled to keep control of the slippery wet lump.
‘You need to open the clay up.’
‘How?’ He glanced at her, panic in his eyes.
‘Hold on.’
She leant over and placed her hands on the clay too, helping him to steady it, then guiding his other hand to the middle and pushing his thumb down into the centre. She was so close to him she could smell his sandalwood cologne and the clean fresh scent of his skin. She could feel his warmth against the side of her body and every so often, as she moved, his blonde hair tickled her cheek.
She turned her head and found him gazing up at her and her eyes wantonly roamed his face, his mouth, his broad shoulders, the way that his Adam’s apple bobbed. On the plate, the clay collapsed and fluttered to one side, forgotten, but Ethan and Fran’s hands remained joined, sticky with wet clay, their fingers sliding together.
Before she could stop herself, Fran had turned and wrapped her arms around Ethan’s neck and they were nose to nose, forehead to forehead and mouth to mouth. They kissed gently, exploring each other tentatively, and as the kiss deepened, Fran moaned with desire. She had never experienced such a connection with a man before and she wanted more…
When Ethan pulled away gently, Fran almost cried with disappointment.
The kiss had been so sweet, his lips full and sensual under hers. Everything inside her had felt alive, on fire, illuminated, and her chest heaved with yearning and longing as something deep inside her unfolded, loosened, opened.
Ethan held her there, perched on his one knee as he gasped, his cheeks red, his pupils dilated, his brows meeting in a frown of confusion.
‘Ethan… I’m sorry. I don’t know how that happened. I don’t make a habit of bringing men in here to seduce them at my pottery wheel.’ Her voice was husky, betraying her lust.
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t think that you did, it’s just that… it was amazing… but… we can’t do this.’
‘No…’ Fran frowned. ‘Why not?’ She wanted to pull him closer and to kiss him again, to wrap her legs around him and surrender to the sensations and the yearning flooding through her body. Need was overtaking reason and she wanted to submit to it like never before.
‘I… I have Tilly and… you’re… pregnant. And isn’t there a father on the scene too?’
It was as if someone had dropped a bucket of icy water over Fran’s head. Of course! The fictional pregnancy. A partner she hadn’t yet thought about. What was she going to do about that?
Bloody hell!
Fran stood up on shaky legs and took a few deep breaths. She couldn’t believe the effect Ethan had upon her. So that was what desire felt like. She’d been with men before and enjoyed their company and the physical side of things but it had never felt like that. Ethan was just… Wow! And they had only shared a kiss, so she couldn’t imagine what making love to him would feel like.
But now she would never find out because he thought she was pregnant and possibly had a partner on the scene. She wanted to tell him that there was no man around, no father to her fictional baby, but if she started that conversation she would have to tell even more lies, so perhaps it was better just to leave the dust to settle. And, of course, Ethan had to put his daughter first, which was admirable.
‘Would you like another coffee?’ she asked, keen to try to act as if what had just happened, hadn’t happened at all. She wiggled her fingers, suddenly aware of how sticky they were and how it wouldn’t be easy to leave this moment behind; it would cling to them like cold, wet clay if they didn’t make the effort to move on. Their skin would be stained with grey traces of clay; their hearts would be grey too, devoid of any colour after the beauty of this moment when everything had seemed so bright and clear. She didn’t want that, didn’t want to lose Ethan completely, so they had to put this behind them and become good friends as she hoped they could be.
‘A cool drink would be great, thanks.’ He smiled, but there was tension in the way he held himself and wariness in his eyes and it saddened her.
‘Sure. I’ll go and get us something.’ She washed her hands in the sink in the studio, picking the clay from her nails and the creases of her knuckles, then went through to the kitchen, leaving Ethan behind so he could wash his hands and take a few moments to recover.
As she filled two glasses with water, Fran was chilled right through. She really liked Ethan but he’d made it clear that nothing could ever happen between them. It seemed so unfair, but then their situation was hardly ideal. Of course he had to think of his daughter and then there was the pregnancy that Fran hated deceiving him about, but what else could she do? Fran had made a promise to Holly and she had to keep it, even if that promise involved keeping a secret that was part of the reason why she couldn’t get close to the first man she had liked this much in her whole life.