Page 80
The party goes on for another half an hour, and then gradually everyone says it’s time they left. People start filtering out, and I lift an exhausted Millie into my arms and get her to wave to everyone before I take her upstairs.
She cleans her teeth in a sleepy dream, and I tuck her into bed.
“I saw you kiss Mitch,” she says as she curls up with Bear.
“I did,” I admit, thinking it’s pointless to deny it. “It was a Christmas kiss.” I hesitate. “Do you mind?”
“No.” She looks up at me with her big brown eyes. “Are you going to marry him?”
I knew I’d have to have this conversation at some point. I sit on the edge of her bed. “No. I’m still married to Daddy.”
“Are you getting divorced like Nina’s mummy and daddy?” It’s her best friend.
I smooth her hair back from her face. “Probably, yes. I’m sorry, darling.”
“When?”
“It takes a long time. It won’t be next year. It’ll be the year after.” Gosh, that’s a long time.
“Daddy’s not coming home, is he?”
I stroke her forehead. I don’t think the marriage breakdown was my fault, or at least not only my fault. But I still feel guilty. “No, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”
She sighs, hugs Bear close to her, and closes her eyes.
My heart aches for her. I kiss her forehead, then get up and go to the door.
“Mummy?”
I look back to see her eyes open. “Yes, darling?”
“I like Mitch.”
I smile. “Me too.”
She closes her eyes again, and I go out the door and close it almost shut behind me.
I nip into the bathroom, get rid of some of the wine I’ve drunk, and brush my teeth, then head out.
When I get back downstairs, Mitch and Dad are taking the glasses out to the kitchen, and then Dad says, “I think I’ll go up. Night, you two.”
“Goodnight,” we say, and he smiles and heads up the stairs.
I turn back to the dishwasher and start loading it up. I hear Mitch open the fridge, then a crash of bottles and an, “Oops.”
I give him an amused glance over my shoulder. “How drunk are you?”
He leans against the counter. “I’m perfectly sober.”
“Yeah, right.” His hair is ruffled, and when he blinks, he does so slowly, as if he has to concentrate to make his eyelids lower at the same time.
He moves closer to me and, as I straighten, he plants a hand either side of me on the counter. I turn to face him, my heart picking up speed.
“My angel,” he murmurs, kissing my right shoulder. Then he kisses my left. “And this one has a little devil on it.”
I chuckle. “You’re the little devil in my life.”
His gaze slips down me and rests on my bare feet. “Mm,” he says. I think he’s noticed my toenails, which I’ve painted red.
