The show we were watching, or pretending to watch, I was too busy caught up in my own head, ended and I yawned.
“It’s getting late. I should probably go,” I told them.
“It’s not late,” Isla replied sleepily. She’d dozed on and off for the last hour, and when I suggested we put her into bed, Luke just let her sleep. I think he was enjoying the peace and quiet too much to want to disturb her.
“It is late and you, missy, need to be in bed.”
“No …”
“Come on. Go brush your teeth and I’ll tuck you in before I go,” I encouraged, trying to help.
“Why do you have to go?” Isla asked in that annoying whiny voice that only kids had.
“Because my bed’s at my house.”
“I don't want you to go,” Isla tried again, wrapping herself around my arm and holding tight. She was quite strong for someone her size.
I looked over her head at Luke who was grinning like a fool at me. He could’ve been helping, but instead, all he offered me was a weak shrug.
Squatting down, I looked her in the eye, hoping she’d understand. “I don't want to go either, but I have to go home to my bed. I can come back another time,” I offered, treading the fine line between placating her and making promises I couldn’t keep.
“Stay here. You can sleep here.”
“Where would I sleep?”
“You can sleep in Dad’s bed,” Isla said like it was nothing at all.
Meeting Luke’s eye, I wondered what he was thinking of this conversation. He wasn’t saying a whole lot. “Where will Dad sleep? In your bed with you?”
A cute little yawn escaped from her and she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “No silly. He will sleep in bed with you. There’s heaps of room.”
I shot a pleading look in Luke’s direction. He needed to be the one navigating this, not me. When it came to Isla, I had no place making decisions. This was all him. He was leading the way, and I went at his pace. It was one responsibility I was happy to make someone else’s problem.
Leaning against the doorframe to his room, with his arms folded across his chest and his ankles crossed, Luke pushed off and sauntered toward us. “And you’d be okay with Charlotte staying here?” he asked gently.
“Yes!” Isla declared loudly.
“Well, okay then.” Luke shrugged before asking Isla again to go clean her teeth and get ready for bed.
As soon as she was out of earshot, he turned his cheeky grin in my direction. “So, you staying?”
“Luke … I’m not sure …”
“Please?”
“I don't have any pajamas.” Luke chuckled, and I couldn’t believe how pathetic my argument was.
Luke swallowed deeply, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Trust me, that won’t be an issue,” he confirmed his voice thick and tight.
It was almost three when we were woken up by a little person crawling in the bed between us making me thankful I’d borrowed one of Luke’s t-shirts and a pair of boxers.
“Shh, sweetheart, you’ll wake Charlotte,” Luke cooed as he tried to settle Isla.
“I’m already awake,” I mumbled. “What’s going on?”
“I feel sick,” Isla complained as she wriggled under the blankets while Luke flicked on the lamp.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I asked, pushing her hair back from her face.
