Page 33 of Single Dad Christmas

But it felt like a big deal. As she dressed, quickly and silently, and looked around for the little items she’d casually left out in his house, because she’d had visions of a lazy, relaxed morning together, and all the time in the world to pack up, she felt there was something tawdry about what they were doing, and the way she was being dispatched.

She could totally see it from his perspective, but that didn’t change how she felt, in that moment.

“Okay, that’s everything,” she said, struggling to meet his eyes as she slid her feet into her shoes and looked around at the Christmas tree—now sparkling, because the lights were on timers—and their empty champagne flutes on the side of the kitchen sink.

“Louisa—,” He stared at her and her stomach stitched as she waited for him to say something. But instead, silence just hung between them.

And then, “Dad?”

Louisa’s eyes flared and Noah turned to intercept Taylor, but it was too late.

She stumbled into the room, hair a mess, a picture of long, slim limbs and stunning features. She saw Louisa, but perhaps barely registered her. “I feel sick.”

Sympathy swelled inside Louisa.

Anger at Noah disappeared—for now.

Because this was his daughter, and she needed her dad.

“This way,” he said, guiding her toward a door which Louisa knew housed a toilet. The next moment, the sounds of vomit filled the house. She bit into her lip and stood there uncertainly for a moment and then loaded her Uber account and ordered a car.

In between the waves of sickness, Noah emerged to grab a glass of water and some paper towels.

“My cab will be here in two minutes,” she said, making no effort to move towards him. He wasn’t her Noah now. He was Noah, the father. Taylor’s, not hers.

“Thank you,” he said, simply, and she nodded once before leaving the room and letting herself out of his house.

Her driver seemedto think it was his job to entertain her, and he chatted the whole drive home. He’d asked where she was from, having detected her accent, and she’d responded shortly, with ‘Moricosia’. It turned out to be one of his favourite places to visit, and so the ride was filled with him extolling the virtues of her home country, the beauty of it, the beaches, and in that moment, she was flooded with a sense of homesickness. For her parents, her sister, her old life.

She’d decided not to go home for Christmas. It would have been too high profile even before Ares had met Sofia, but with an engagement announcement imminent, there was no way she could have just had a nice, normal Christmas with her family.

But now she ached to be with them.

At first, she couldn’t understand why. What had happened tonight that was making her crave her family? But once she wasback in the solitude of her apartment and had the luxury of being able to think, she easily connected the dots.

Noah and she had created a beautiful thing, behind closed doors, but it was a fantasy. He had a life, a family, and she wasn’t a part of that. She couldn’t be, she wouldn’t be, they’d said that from the outset. It was fine. Except it wasn’t fine, because Louisa felt excluded and lost, and the kneejerk reaction to that was a desire to go home. To go back to the people who always made her feel welcome and whole, the people who considered her to be a necessary part of their fabric.

Everything with Noah had gotten out of hand. It had moved too fast. They’d seen each other every night since that first night. They’d been so intimate, they’d talked so much, shared so much. She knew more about him now than she probably had Ares. It was an unnatural connection they’d forged because of the backdrop of their respective realities.

What had they been thinking? Where did either of them think this was going?

Tonight had not been Noah’s fault, and he certainly hadn’t done anything wrong. On the contrary, he’d done exactly what was required of him, and she loved what a great father he was. But it had clarified something for Louisa, and now that she’d seen it, she couldn’t unsee it: she didn’t belong there, with him, like that. And if she kept seeing him, the way she was seeing him now, it was going to end very badly for her. It was impossible to be together with this intensity and not eventually want more, but Noah wasn’t offering more, and she doubted he ever would.

She knew what that meant, but Louisa didn’t define the conclusion to that thought train. Not then. She went to bed and tried not to contemplate the end which she knew was coming.

The early morningsun coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows roused him, and for a disorientating moment, Noah had no idea where he was. Why was he on the sofa, instead of his bed, with Louisa?

And then, it all came slamming into him. Memories of Louisa standing just a few feet from where he now lay, something shifting in her expression that he couldn’t put his finger on but instinctively knew he didn’t like.

Something that had chilled him to the bone.

But Taylor had needed him, and he hadn’t been able to give Louisa anything. Even a ride home. Or to walk her to the door.

“Taylor,” he muttered, standing up and looking around, his heart rushing because he had fallen asleep sometime after three, when it seemed that she’d vomited all she was going to vomit, and he’d gotten her to eat half a piece of Vegemite toast.

He walked quickly through the house, then softly clicked open the door to her room.

She was in bed, eyes shut, and when he got close enough to see properly, he could see that her chest was moving with each breath she took. So, she’d survived her first drunken night—he hoped it would be the last.

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