Page 42 of Dr. Single Dad

“I don’t want to impose and?—”

“I insist,” he says. “If you’re looking after my granddaughter, we want you well-fed. And my apple pie is the best in the world. Mark my words, you won’t want to miss it.”

He practically herds me back to the kitchen, where there seems to be people everywhere.

“And now Eira’s here,” Carole says. “We’ve got a full house.”

I glance at Dax down by the dining table, chatting to his brother. Will he mind his employee joining him at dinner? It’s not like weneversee each other in the evening—and then there was Backgammon Night—but it’s not normal to socialize with the family like this. Not in my experience.

The helicopter arrived safely and now, at the end of the kitchen, a huge dining table is full of Coves. Some have been born into the family. Some have married into the family. But they’re all family.

I don’t belong here.

“Eira,” Carole calls, “come and sit next to me.”

“Mrs. Cove, I’m very happy to fix myself a plate and?—”

“Absolutely not,” John interrupts, and Carole fixes him with a look.

“If you would prefer to eat on your own, that’s fine. We would love you to stay. Wouldn’t we, Dax? Jacob? Everyone?”

The table falls silent. I’m sure I’m beetroot red as everyone turns to face me.

“Of course,” Madison says.

“Absolutely, you have to eat. We don’t bite,” Jacob says.

Everyone else chimes in with similar words of encouragement. I’m entirely mortified that I’ve made such a spectacle and am now the center of everyone’s attention.

My gaze catches on Dax’s. He’s opposite me, the expression on his face incomprehensible. Then he gives me a small nod and I just make out the wordstayunder the hubbub of everyone’s chatter.

I sit and the spotlight slides off me. Everyone focuses on the food.

I’ll eat quickly and quietly and then creep back upstairs. No one will notice I’m gone.

“She’s such a pretty baby, Dax,” Kate says. That’s the absolute truth. Of course all babies are lovely in their own way, but many aren’t pretty.

“Are you sure you don’t need a second DNA test?” Vincent says.

I check on Dax’s reaction but it’s as if he’s an enormous iceberg in the middle of the ocean, his brothers and cousin the little waves lapping at his sides. He doesn’t even notice them. I can’t help but wonder if he’s only stoic with his family or if he has the ability to not sweat the small stuff in general. It’s a skill I would love to have.

I like to dodge the small stuff. I’d love not to sweat it when it invariably lands.

I can’t help but be more and more intrigued by what’s going on beneath Dax’s surface. They say only a third of an iceberg is visible above the surface. The rest is kept hidden.

What’s Dax hiding?

“She looks exactly like Dax when he was a baby,” Carole says. “He was always being mistaken for a girl.” She pauses. “But that could have been the pink cardigan I dressed him in.” She hoots with laughter. “And the rest of his clothes were white or yellow, no blue at all. After Beau, I vowed not to have any more and donated all the boys’ clothes.”

Dax takes a deep intake of breath as if he’s bracing himself. Clearly, he’s heard this story before. Looking around, it seems like most everyone else has, too. Which means Carole is telling this tale for my benefit. But…why?

“When I got pregnant with Dax, I was convinced I was having a girl. I picked up the pink cardigan at the hospital charity shopand then realized I was tempting fate, so bought yellow and white for the rest of his clothes.”

“Dax, what’s it like being a disappointment to your parents from birth?” Jacob asks.

Dax continues chewing his mouthful of food, and I definitelydon’twatch the way his jaw tenses with the movement.

“He doesn’t know,” John says. “Maybeyoucould explain?”

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