Part 121 (2/2)

I bury my face into Nate's chest. How far into my world can he truly step, and how long will he stay there?

39.

RILEY.

Josh refused to wear his jacket today and, dressed in a thin T-s.h.i.+rt, he charges through the spring cool across the lawn towards the small lake.

”Jos.h.!.+” I shout. ”Wait for me!”

He comes to an abrupt halt and flops onto his backside. Josh's clothes plus muddy gra.s.s. Great. I take my tenth look around in as many minutes at the families with pushchairs and couples with dogs enjoying the rain-free Sunday. Spring is my favourite season, the crocuses and daffodils emerge in the beds beneath the trees, throwing colour back into the large park. Early buds appear on the tall trees and the canopies of leaves, which shelter the park visitors in the summer, will return soon. With this freshness in the air comes the relief winter is over for another year; stuck in the house with a miserable, energetic Josh at weekends drives me nuts. Bringing Josh here affords me peace as he has fun and tires himself out, although today I don't feel very peaceful here.

I asked Josh to wait with me on the narrow wooden bench at the edge of the path; but following five minutes whacking the gra.s.s with a stick he found, his attention switched.

I fiddle with the knot on the bag of bread on my lap. Nate's late; will he come? We've met a couple of times since the night we shared more than we wanted; and however hard we tried, the words were repeated as if rea.s.suring each other. But Nate never mentioned Josh, and my heart increasingly lifted the guard back up. Until two days ago, when he announced he wanted to meet Josh.

Here I am, sitting in the large park in walking distance from the house, a regular weekend haunt since Josh could toddle, with Josh and waiting for Nate. I promised Josh we'd feed the ducks and visit the ice cream van standing in the car park nearby. I suspect he wants the duck bread feeding done with as quickly as possible so he can move onto the Josh ice cream feeding.

Josh stands again and moves closer to the water.

”Jos.h.!.+” I call, tone sterner, and stride across to him. He doesn't look round and keeps walking. I grab his arm as the edge of his shoes touch the water. ”I've told you not to go near water without me.”

Big eyes look back to mine, as he shuffles from foot to impatient foot. ”Can I have the bread now?” I raise my brow. ”Please.”

”In a minute, I'm waiting for a friend.”

”Is Lauren coming? Is she bringing Poppy?”

I feel bad for quas.h.i.+ng his excitement. ”No, one of Mummy's friends is coming today.”

Meeting Nate in the local park may not seem the best place to introduce Josh; a public scene if this is a disaster could ensue, but is there any place suitable for meeting a rock star and introducing him to your son? Following Nate and Josh's abrupt meeting at the house, I want neutral.

Josh splashes the water with his stick, harder and harder, and my stomach drops lower and lower into my boots as the minutes pa.s.s. The nearby ducks swim back and forth, antic.i.p.ating the bread.

”Okay.” I open the bag of bread and with a cheer Josh drags outs a huge crust.

The ducks who've gathered closest are rewarded with a lump of bread bouncing off their heads.

Somebody behind us laughs. ”I think you're supposed to break that into smaller pieces.”

I turn to Nate, who offers me an apologetic look. He moves to stand next to me, hands in pockets as he and Josh make eye contact. Neither say h.e.l.lo and Josh returns to his missile attack on the ducks.

”I didn't think you were coming,” I tell him. ”You're almost half an hour late.”

”Am I? Late night.” He rubs his reddened eyes. ”Plus I got lost.”

I smile and look at my boots, nerves over the situation silencing me. Nate wraps an arm around my shoulders and plants a kiss on the top of my head. I turn my face to his, desperate not to see wariness in his eyes, but it's there.

He doesn't kiss me.

”Josh. I want you to meet Nate,” I say.

Josh turns and chews on his mouth as he studies Nate. ”I met you once.”

”h.e.l.lo,” says Nate.

”Who are you?”

Josh's abruptness with the unsure Nate amuses me, the ego-driven rock star silenced by my five-year-old. ”I'm Nate.”

Josh continues his uninterested study. ”Mummy doesn't have a lot of friends. Who are you?”

”He's a good friend, Josh, and he wanted to meet you.”

Josh holds the bag out in Nate's direction. ”You can feed the ducks with me.”

”Uh.” Nate looks at me for a help, but I repress a smile. He can deal with these things himself. ”Maybe later.”

Josh proceeds to ignore him, but splashes harder until the muddy water hits Nate's jeans.

Nate steps back. ”c.r.a.p, Riley. I don't know if this is a good idea.”

”Oh.”

”No. I mean I don't think he likes me.”

”Nate, you've hardly spoken to him. It's fine, you don't have to be his best friend. Just spend time with us.”

”Right.” Nate rubs a hand across his head and the deep-browed look crosses his face. ”I think I'd rather face an army of photographers than this.”

”You might. You didn't exactly dress inconspicuously for the occasion.” I indicate his typical dark jeans and leather jacket.

”I always wear this,” he says.

I laugh. ”Exactly.”

”You look funny,” he says. ”More the girl from the snow.”

I hug my jacket around myself, self-conscious of my seen-better-days jeans and walking boots. ”Work suits don't match a trip to feed ducks.”

Nate smooths my hair down with both hands, cupping my face in his long fingers. ”I like you dressed like this.”

I tiptoe to kiss him, briefly, my paranoia isn't Josh will fall in the shallow water, but that he'll decide to trudge in and reach a duck. It wouldn't be the first time. Nate rests his forehead on mine as I side glance to watch my son.

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