Page 75 of Accidental Irish Daddy

I notice she’s holding a pair of gardening gloves. She’s twisting them up nervously.

“We’d love it if you joined us,” Bridget says.

Seeing her in the sunlight makes my heart skip a beat. I suddenly feel calm…as if all I needed all morning was to see her face once more.

“Come on,” I say. “Wars are never fought over a cuppa.”

She looks away from me, trying and failing to conceal a smile. “Far be it from me to start a war.”

Bridget cheers, “Yay!”

She comes and sits down cross-legged next to Bridget. Bridget gives her a teacup and pours pretend tea from her little plastic tea kettle. “I’m so glad the two of you decided to join us,” she says in her high-pitched voice. “Mrs. Buckleberry’s also expecting, you know.”

Aisling’s face flushes, and she glances up at me.

I decide to play along. “Oh, how interesting. She doesn’t even look like she’s gained any weight.”

“Well, she’s just found out as well. Isn’t that fascinating?”

My own cheeks get warm. “Extremely,” I say.

Bridget leans forward to the plant and nods, then says, “Mrs. Buckleberry would like to know if you want a boy or a girl?”

I look at Aisling. In all this, we’ve never even talked about the baby she’s carrying. I clear my throat. “Well…I don’t think I care much about that. I would just want them to be healthy.”

“Gidget,” says Aisling, “We probably shouldn’t talk about that. I think it makes Mr. Duncan uncomfortable.”

This is my chance. “On the contrary, I’d love to talk about it. Becoming a father is a new adventure that I’m quite looking forward to.”

Aisling’s eyes widen a little. She’s surprised. To be honest, so am I. Iamlooking forward to being a father now that I’m thinking of it.

“That’s just lovely,” says Bridget in her high-pitched voice. “What a lovely family you’ll make.”

Aisling’s eyes start to water. “If you’ll excuse me a moment.”

She gets up and walks back into the house.Shit.

“Bridget, Mrs. Buckleberry. I’ll have to take a raincheck on that tea.”

“It’s fine, deary.”

I get up and go after Aisling.

I find her in the kitchen, leaning over the sink and weeping. I walk over to her, putting my hands on her shoulders. She pushes me away.

“Don’t,” she says.

I step away from her. I don’t know what else to do. She sniffles and wipes her nose. “I just get emotional these days.”

I nod. What else can I do? Nothing, I suppose. Maybe my presence is too much for her.

I turn to go, and she says, “Stay. Please. Mrs. Buckleberry will be quite upset if you leave before high tea is over.”

I smile and she smiles back. I come back to her, and she takes my hands. “And after,” she says, “I think that Bridget and I should pack our things and come back. Don’t you?”

I could leap for joy. Instead, I sweep her up into a kiss. She wraps her arms around my neck, and I’m blessed with her hands in my hair…and the warmth of her love.

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