Page 40 of The Baby Plan

She was about to change, when she heard Samson holler up the stairs, “Are you ready?”

There was no time to swap her outfit for some jeans and a top now; she’d have to go as she was.

Samson and Alana were waiting for her by the front door. Mutt sat hopefully next to them — Alana was strapped into her buggy, and he knew that meant ‘walkies’.

Samson had changed into a blue short-sleeved cotton shirt and chinos and he’d put Alana into a pretty yellow party dress with butterflies on and attempted to style her hair in bunches.

“Wow,” he said as Sophie came into view. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, blushing. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“It’s just enough,” Samson replied. “Did you change your hair?”

“Yeah, I went to the hairdressers this afternoon.”

“It suits you,” he commented.

“I considered dyeing it as well, but I wasn’t brave enough,” she confessed.

“I like your natural colour,” said Samson, with a shrug.

“I think I’ve always seen it as a bit dull and longed for Natasha’s thick, blonde hair. I guess I thought it would make me more exciting and glamorous, more technicolour like Natasha, and less black and white.”

“You are not black and white,” said Samson, softly.

“Well, thank you.” Sophie was embarrassed to have been so honest, but her tummy fluttered in response to Samson’s reply. “Shall we get going?” she suggested, wanting to change the topic of conversation.

“Absolutely,” agreed Samson. “I thought we’d walk as it’s such a nice evening. It’s not far. Mutt, I’m afraid you’re staying here, but I’ll see what I can do about bringing home a doggy bag.”

Mutt was most aggrieved and plonked himself dejectedly at the bottom of the stairs, too affronted for the comfort of his basket.

They walked towards the city centre with Samson commenting on some of the architecture around them then turned down a side street Sophie hadn’t noticed before on her own wanderings. Tucked away was a tiny Italian restaurant.

“It’s not the swankiest of places, but the food is fantastic and I’ve been coming here for years,” Samson explained.

Samson was greeted cheerfully by the rather rotund owner who he introduced to Sophie as Francesco and all the staff were called over to fuss over Alana. A highchair and grissini were found for her, and glasses of Chianti were poured.

“You are a lucky man having supper with two beautiful ladies,” commented Francesco to Samson when he brought over a plate of antipasti.

“I am indeed.” Samson smiled at Sophie.

Francesco left them, and Samson pulled an envelope out of the changing bag hanging on the back of Alana’s buggy.

“Alana and I made you this,” he said, presenting it to Sophie.

She opened the envelope to find a card inside with Alana’s footprints on the front in blue paint.

“It’s lovely,” said Sophie. “How on earth did you get her to sit still for long enough to make it?”

“I didn’t... there’s rather a lot of blue paint still on my desk and her feet,” he admitted. “And there’s this,” said Samson, handing Sophie a small package. Inside was a white gold chain with a locket. “Open it,” he urged.

Sophie pried it open. There was a lock of Alana’s hair tucked inside.

“Thank you!” Sophie exclaimed. “It’s beautiful. How did you have time to organise this?”

“We snuck out while you were at the hairdresser. I was trying to cut the piece of hair to go in it when you arrived back. Shall I help you put it on?”

Samson got up and walked behind Sophie to do up the necklace clasp. A delicious shiver travelled the length of her spine as his fingers grazed her neck.

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