Daniel Buchannan humble? Apologetic?
She’d only ever seen him self-assured and confident.
‘Sounds like you’ve had quite a morning so far.’
‘You have no idea,’ Daniel muttered, standing up. ‘Alfie? Can we try again? And this time I’ll get it right.’
‘It’s OK.’ Alfie sniffed. ‘No one’s perfect.’
‘Promise me that from now on if you leave the house, you tell me where you’re going.’ Daniel’s voice was rough and he curved his hands over the child’s shoulders in a protective gesture. ‘Promise?’
‘I promise. As long as you promise to look where you’re putting your feet.’
‘It’s a deal.’ Daniel looked at Stella and gave a faint smile. ‘I’ll pay you a million pounds to come and cook some lunch for the kids. Something edible that isn’t burned or stuck to the pan.’
She tried not to laugh. ‘A million pounds? It’s lower than my usual rate—but I expect we can come to some agreement. I was about to suggest that I come and help. I’m pretty bored on my own in the stable. It would be fun to make Christmas stuff. We can decorate the house, make some Christmas cards—’
‘Food? Your job is to do some food.’ Alfie tugged himself away from Daniel’s grip and Stella nearly slipped on the icy surface of the yard.
‘Definitely food.’ She regained her balance. ‘You can help me.’
‘Daniel said I’m not to go in the kitchen any more.’ Alfie held up his bandaged finger. ‘I touched a pan. My fault.’
‘No, my fault,’ Daniel said gruffly, ‘and it isn’t going to happen again.’
‘I’m a kid,’ Alfie said patiently. ‘I have accidents. You need to chill.’
‘I’ve never felt less chilled in my life.’ Daniel ran his hand over the back of his neck and gave Stella a faint smile. ‘If you could take over the kitchen bit, that would probably be safer.’
‘Where’s Posy?’
‘Asleep, I hope.’ Then he caught her glance and anxiety flared in his dark eyes. ‘Don’t look at me like that! She’s in her room with a stairgate across the door so that she can’t escape when my back is turned. Are you telling me she’s probably fetched a ladder and is climbing out of the window right now?’
‘I’m sure she hasn’t.’ Stella locked the door of the stable and walked back across the yard with them, noticing that he kept Alfie’s hand in his. It didn’t matter that he’d made mistakes. What mattered was that he was trying. That he cared.
And that was a good thing, she reminded herself.
It was just that it made everything harder for her.
Making the most of Patrick’s well-equipped kitchen, Stella occupied Alfie with some cooking. While he was covering himself in flour, she swiftly cleared up the mess, scrubbed the remains of burnt pancakes from the bottom of the pan, and loaded the dishwasher. When every surface was gleaming, she made gingerbread men with Alfie.
He pressed the cutter through the biscuit dough. ‘Can we dip them in chocolate when they’re cooked?’
‘Good idea.’ While he was decorating gingerbread men, Stella made a casserole for their supper and then went and examined the stain on the sofa.
‘That’s a loose cover. It should wash. If I do it on low, hopefully it won’t shrink.’
‘I’d forgotten how good you are at all this house stuff,’ Daniel said gruffly, nursing his coffee in one hand while he fished through a box for glitter and glue. ‘You love it, don’t you?’
Stella programmed the washing machine, wondering how she was supposed to answer that. ‘Well, I can’t say I’m in love with the washing machine but, yes, I love the whole house-and-home thing. You know I do.’ It was a reminder of why they were no longer together and Daniel was silent for a moment. She knew he was thinking of their relationship and when she glanced towards him, his eyes were fixed on her face.
For a moment they stared at each other and then Stella turned her attention back to the kitchen, determined not to read anything into the moment. She wasn’t going to go there. She wasn’t going to hurt herself by thinking of things she couldn’t have. Neither was she going to delude herself by pretending there might be a happy ever after. She’d done that for long enough.
There would never be happy ever after with Daniel.
She was going to follow her mother’s example and move on with her life.
‘Can we make paper chains?’ Alfie bit the head off a gingerbread man that Stella had laid out to cool. ‘These are delicious.’