His mouth twitched.“I see my eldest has been sharing her nutritional wisdom again.”
Jillian gave him a look of perfect innocence.“You said fried food was bad.”
“I saidtoo muchfried food was bad.”
Cat dished up an egg, added a thick piece of bacon and handed him the plate, along with one slice of somewhat underdone toast.“So just one of each, then.”
For a second, something like amusement flickered between them, quick, unspoken, and then it was gone.He pulled out a chair at the small kitchen table and sat down with his breakfast.Olivia carried her plate over and then Jillian was last, obviously reluctant to eat anything Catriona had prepared.
Cat wasn’t sure where to go with her plate—was she supposed to eat with them or eat on her own?
Rhys stood and drew out the empty chair at the table.Cat gave him a grateful smile and sat down.It was a small breakfast, but it was something, and hopefully enough to fuel the day.A good, happy day.
“Did you run far today, Daddy?”Olivia asked, eating her toast but ignoring the egg.
Cat didn’t blame her.The eggs were overdone.
Rhys didn’t seem to mind.“About ten kilometers,” he said to his youngest, as he cleaned his plate.“With Catriona here, I thought I could be gone longer and so I ran a few extra kilometers.It felt good.I needed it.”
Olivia beamed at him.“That’s good, Daddy.”
Jillian wrinkled her nose.“I don’t like running.”
“But you’d feel good after,” her dad said, rising and carrying his plate to the sink.He started to wash it, but Cat was on her feet, and she gave him a little push away.
“My job,” she said.“You have work to do.”
Jillian turned in her chair to face her father.“You’re leaving already?”
“I’m behind.I have a lot to do.”
“Are you really going to be working every day?”Jillian pursed her lips, displeasure written all over her face.
“Yes.”His hands were on his hips, his brow creasing.“And we talked about this.I’ll be working every morning.My goal is to return at two each afternoon.”
“You said you’d be working for afewhours each day,” Jillian corrected.“That’s more than a few.Eight to two is six hours, practically a full day.”
“The plan was for me to return for lunch every day, and just work from eight to noon, but you scared away the last childminder, making it impossible for me to work for four days.Now I have to make up for lost time.”
Jillian jumped up, hands clenched.“It’s always my fault, isn’t it?”
“Not always, but in this instance, yes, it is.And I expect better from you.Today, I expect your best behavior, Jillian.Are we clear?”
Jillian looked away, chin up, her silence an act of rebellion.
Cat felt the weight of it, and something inside her ached.She remembered being twelve, remembered her anger, remembered how she felt so terribly misunderstood.
She walked with Rhys to the entry.“Don’t worry,” she said quietly.“It’s going to be fine.We are fine.Trust me.”
He nodded, expression grim, and then was gone.As Cat started back for the kitchen, she saw the girls edging for the stairs.Cat put her hands up, stopping them.“Let’s do the breakfast dishes first, and then you can play.”
Both girls froze and glanced at each other before looking at Cat.
“Dishes?”Jillian said, in her best, most posh London school girl accent.
“Yes,” Cat answered, checking her smile.“Those things we just ate on.”
“We don’t do dishes.That’s not our job.”Jillian gestured imperiously in the direction of the kitchen.“That’s your job.”
