Page 72 of A Manny for Christmas

I know they’re tickled and thrilled and excited that I’ve finally got myself some action. Got a boost from a gorgeous man about whom they know I once cared deeply.

I know no one is judging me for seizing my happiness, for giving into physical temptation and availing of the considerable charms of my ex-slash-houseguest-slash-manny.

I suspect they’re all wondering whether anything has truly changed between us. Whether Max’s views on having a family have changed at all. Whether there is any hope for us beyond a few weeks of excellent orgasms.

And, although I have no intel for them, no crystal ball, no right to think any further out than the coming days and weeks, I finish my sentence.

I verbalise the small seed of hope that’s beginning to germinate in my heart.

‘…It feels more like a new beginning.’

As the wine flows, and the questions keep coming, and Evelyn tries her best to look excited for me instead of concerned, my phone pings with a message.

Max.

I hold it close to me so Theo can’t peek, and open it.

He’s taken a selfiein my bed. He’s topless, hopefully naked, and grinning at me. He has his reading glasses on. They weren’t a necessity twelve years ago, but I seriously dig them. He makes them look pretty damn sexy. An open book rests against those abs whose lines I licked last night.

Kids are tucked up. So am I. See you later, gorgeous xxx

I can’t get home fast enough.

26

MOLLY

There’s a lump in my throat as I get a cab home. Lock up. Make my way upstairs.

Home.

While I’m infinitely grateful to Angus for letting me rent this place at laughable rates, the cottage has so far represented a phase in my life where I’m alone, adjusting to single parenting and to kids who presumably have abandonment issues.

So, while it’s been a refuge, it’s been hard to separate that refuge from the shitty circumstances that have brought us here, meaning that, despite its charms, it hasn’t been a place where I’ve been particularly happy.

The extent to which Max’s presence has changed that, over the past few short weeks, is slightly terrifying. Far more terrifying is the extent to which his presencein my bedchanges things further.

I’m coming home to a gorgeous man who’s cared for my kids tonight and is waiting for me. Waiting, I hope, to do unspeakable things to me. To make my body sing and my heart whole.

And that feels heady and dangerous and miraculous all at once.

I check in on Toby and Daisy, kissing them, inhaling the scent of their skin and their hair, scents that act like crack to my brain. As I tiptoe down the corridor to my room, I find my mouth curling up into an unstoppable smile.

I can’t quite believe I get to do this.

Can’t quite believe Max Rutherford is warming my bed for me.

I open the door.

‘Hey, you.’ He slides his glasses off. The smile he shoots me is sleepy and sexy. God, he’s gorgeous. If I could conjure up any man in all the world to be in my bed right now, it would be him.

‘Hi.’ I beam at him. He makes me feel so weak at the knees that I could just slide down the door right now in a heap. Instead, I shut it as quietly as I can and tiptoe over to him. He tilts his face up and wraps a hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss that’s lazy and familiar and sensual and leaves me in zero confusion about his intentions for me.

‘Didn’t expect you back so early,’ he says, shutting his book and laying his glasses on top of them. It’s a sweetly domestic move and one I know I’ll store away in my heart for if and when he’s not around. When he’s not a part of my reality.

‘It’s hard to stay away when you send me photos of you in my bed, topless,’ I say, tugging off my glittery Christmas jumper. I raise a hopeful eyebrow. ‘Or… naked?’

‘Sorry to disappoint.’ He tugs the duvet cover down enough to flash me a generous glimpse of black boxer brief. ‘Figured I’d keep these on till you got home, in case one of the kids woke up.’

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