I put down my tools and studied her. She had weird tin foil things wrapped round her toes, some white dots on her face that was yoghurt or something that should’ve been eaten and one of my t-shirts that wasn’t that old but I knew I had zero chance of every getting back. I sighed and sat down on the floor facing her. Despite the tin foil, the yoghurt and stealing my t-shirt, I didn’t want her returning back to her apartment or anywhere else. I’d caught her looking on the internet at properties for sale but she hadn’t actually mentioned about anything catching her interest, which was as it should be. “Yes, I’d like you to live with me,” I said. I could’ve made some passive comment, like ‘you already are or ‘you may as well’, but that would’ve been a dick move. “I’ll learn to live with the shoes and we’ll convert the loft.”
Claire laughed. “There are already four bedrooms, plus the safe room. Do we really need more space? You haven’t put anything in the basement yet.” The basement had been dug out and tanked, then plastered and carpeted in one half, solid flooring in the other. The latter would be my gym, just a few weights that I could use when I couldn’t be bothered to go out. The other part I was imagining as a cinema room, with maybe a snooker table too.
“One room’s ours. Then we need at least one guest room. If we have another room for a dressing area, that only gives us either another guest room or, you know.” I tried to telepath the rest of the sentence to her.
“You know what, Killian? Explain it to me.” She knew damn well what I was saying.
“If we have babies.” I looked away. I had thought plenty about her being pregnant when we were at university and the decision she’d taken. I hadn’t allowed myself to consider the what ifs; I understood her choice not to tell me because she’d been right: it would’ve made everything infinitely harder. She’d protected me in many ways. And now I was just thankful for the chance we could try another time.
Claire laughed, enjoying my discomfort. “Then you’ve got plenty of time to be converting the loft. It’ll give you and Nick something to do to stop you from working. How many rooms would we get up there?”
I shrugged. I had thought about it. “Either two beds and a bathroom, or three beds and a wet room. I’ll start to put some plans together. I can extend on the back as well, just no changes to the front.”
“How many babies do you think we’ll be having?” she said, trying to sound as if I was being ridiculous but I could see the smile creeping up at the corners of her mouth.
“Twins run in the family,” I said. “So at least three.”
“You can give birth to them then,” she said, crossing her legs.
I frowned and glanced at her bare legs. “Did you forget to get dressed this morning?”
“There didn’t seem much point.” She smiled sinfully.
I stood up. “Why’s that?”
“I figured you’d need distracting from my shoes.”
“Did you now?” I said, bending down and picking her up, swinging her over my shoulder which resulted in her laughing and my t-shirt riding up, exposing her ass. “Planning on practicing making those babies, were you?”
She giggled and I let out a sigh of relief that she’d be making that noise in my house for a long time to come.
It had been just over three weeks since Dean Lacey had been arrested for blackmail. He was out on bail, keeping a very low profile, and Katie had been offered favourable terms in their settlement. Yesterday, Friday, had been the day when thedecree nisihad been issued and she was heading towards being a single woman, with her own means, which was entirely what she wanted.
Claire had decided that instead of going out to celebrate, she was going to have everyone round to ours, making me wish I’d already extended the back of the house into the garden as a little bit more room would’ve been ideal. She’d also decided to cook, which again, was fine. What wasn’t fine was that she’d assumed that I would accept the role of sous chef. I didn’t cook. I ordered good take out and I only chose the finest prepared dinners, but I didn’t cook.
“So how are you going to help me get everything ready?” she said, her hands on her hips. It was mid-September and still fairly warm enough that Claire was wearing shorts. She had fuck ugly boot flurry slipper things too, but there was enough skin exposed that I had more trouble saying no to her than normal.
“I’m going to get out of your way.”
Her expression changed to knowing disapproval. “You’re going to rugby practice, aren’t you?”
I gave a small shrug. “I might be.”
“Killian! We’ve got people coming round for dinner. I could do with the help setting up…”
“I’ll be gone two and a half hours, tops. When I come back, I’ll do exactly what you want. I’ll even move the table into three different positions so you can see which works best, if you want…” She turned pale and I shut up. “What’s the matter?”
Claire shook her head. “Just indigestion. I feel a bit queasy. Shit, what if it’s a bug? I could end up infecting everyone!”
“Have you been sick?”
“No. I haven’t had anything to eat yet. It’s probably that. You go play rugby with my brothers. And if you see Max, tell him to stop dodging my calls.” She started to rummage in cupboards and I figured now was a good time to make a quick exit else rugby wouldn’t be on today’s agenda.
“Will do. Why don’t you give Vanessa a call and get her to help? Or Katie?”
Claire nodded, pulling out a large knife. I took a few steps backwards. I didn’t quite trust her at the moment. The sharp tongue she’d always had was currently at its quickest and when she was like that she was just a little bit scary. “Van’s coming over in about an hour. Katie said she’ll pop in when she’s finished viewing houses.”
I choked back a laugh. She and my brother were playing a very unconvincing game of not being completely taken with each other. “Because she’s really going to stop living with Nick any time soon.”
