Page 167 of Every Silent Lie
“Albi!” I dive across and grab his arm before he plummets to the hard floor, and despite saving him, I don’t manage to save his breakfast, which goes flying across the island, Coco Pops and chocolate milk spraying everywhere.
“Oopsie Daisy!” Albi sings. “Please.”
“Christ, you frightened me.” I stand and lift him back onto the stool, kissing the top of his head as I hold it with a palm either side, surely squishing his lips. “Don’t move your butt off this stool.”
“Good catch,” Dec says, shaking his head, his hand resting on his chest to ease his racing heart. “When you’re on the stool, your little backside stays on the stool.”
“Thank you,” Albi murmurs sullenly.
“Albi, you don’t have to say please or thank you with everything you say,” I tell him, smiling fondly. “Just if someone gives you something, or you ask for something.”
“But it’s good manners.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I show the ceiling my palms as Dec rounds the island and comes up behind me, dropping a kiss on my cheek before disappearing into the laundry room, returning a second later with a Vax.
“You didn’t say thank you.” Albi isn’t scowling, but he’s close, and I rack my brain for what I needed to say thank you for, coming up blank. “Daddy gave you a kiss, and you didn’t say thank you. You said I must say thank you or please if someone gives me something or I ask for something.”
Dec laughs as he starts hoovering up the mess, and I’m momentarily distracted by the vision. It really shouldn’t be sexy, Dec hoovering. And yet, it is. “Thank you,” I murmur, falling into a reverie as Albi tips more Coco Pops into his empty bowl.
A knock on the front door pulls me out of my daze, and Dec looks down his front, to the hoover in his hand.
“I’ll go,” I shout over the noise, hopping off my stool.
“It’s probably April,” he calls. “I’ve not unbolted the door, so her key won’t work.”
I race up the stairs, grabbing the first thing I can find to cover my bottom half . . . which happens to be a pair of Dec’s sweatpants. I have to roll them over at the waist half a dozen times to shorten them so I don’t trip over them. Pulling my T-shirt out, I hurry back downstairs and swing the door open.
It’s not April.
“Hi,” I say, hanging onto the wood, shivering when the chill hits my bare arms and feet, taking in the woman. Well-turned out. Smart but casual. A blond layered long bob. Piercing blue eyes. Pretty.
She looks me up and down. “Is Dec home?”
“Sure, let me just grab him. Can I say who’s here?”
Her lips press into a straight line, apparently not forthcoming with an answer.
“I’ll go get him,” I say, an odd feeling coming over me, something I can’t quite put my finger on. But I don’t need to fetch him, because when I turn around, he’s behind me, hoover in hand, black boxers on full show, along with the rest of his body, his eyes wide and shocked.
I withdraw, getting colder, and it has nothing to do with the sub-zero temperatures.
“Chelsea,” he breathes.
It takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up. Chelsea? His ex-wife? Wait, no. They’re still married. Chelsea his wife. My brain kick-starts, and I suck in air and face her, seeing she visibly stands taller before she steps in without an invite and closes the door behind her, gazing around the hallway. “You’ve decorated.”
I move back, looking between them, my mind running blank. I can hear Albi in the kitchen, his spoon clattering against his bowl, oblivious to who’s standing in the hallway. Dec’s a statue, just staring. I can’t read him. Shock, yes, I can see that, but what’s going through his mind right now?
And what should I do?
Chelsea’s eyes move from Dec to me, and she subtly looks me up and down. I feel so scrutinised and vulnerable standing here in Dec’s sweats, my hair pulled up messily, not a scrap of makeup on.
Judged.
Exposed.
And unreasonable or not, I feel stupid, because I have no idea what Dec would need me to do in this situation. I don’t know him well enough to make an executive decision. I know he’s only ever talked about his wife with contempt. She’s dead to me. I know that when I asked him what he’d do if she ever showed up, he didn’t answer. Not truly. He just said he’d get his divorce quicker. But we didn’t touch on Albi because I didn’t even know he existed at that point. And since I did find out about him, I haven’t asked any of the questions I should have.
Like if he’s ever asked about his mum. Like what Dec would do now, except ask for his divorce. Does he still want that divorce? Now she’s here and he’s looking at the mother of his child, does he want that? He must have felt something toward her. I wanted Albi to have a stable family. I did what I thought was right. Does he think it’s right now, to give her the opportunity? Assuming she wants it, and it’s pure female intuition I’m going on, but Chelsea looks like a very contrite woman. Does he still hate her?
