The Best Little Christmas Shop. Maxine Morrey
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through the rest of me said something else and right now, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
‘Thanks for coming round. George was really upset about feeling poorly and missing out on the snowball fight and everything last night.’
‘There will be other times, I’m sure. They’re forecasting snow for the next few weeks, I heard this morning. The bookies have been cutting the odds of a white Christmas left, right, and centre, apparently.’
His mouth began to curve. ‘Didn’t take you to be the betting type.’
‘No, not at all.’ I laughed. ‘I’m more the full of useless information type.’
The half-smile grew and I did my best to remember that the last thing I needed was romantic complications in my life. Been there. Done that. Not prepared to go there again. I risked a glance back up at him. Bloody hell, he was gorgeous. How did anyone look that good after a night up with a sick child? Was that even legal?
Cal took a breath in and the half-smile was back. ‘Lexi, I –’
‘Daddy!’ George’s voice, wobblier than it normally sounded, rang down the hall towards us.
Cal gave me a look and a little shake of his head, the smile turning from whatever it had been – I was still working on that – to resigned.’
‘Yeah, Georgie, I’m coming.’ He turned to me. ‘Do you two want to come and say hello? He was pretty miserable earlier. I’m sure seeing you both would cheer him up no end.’
‘We’d love to.’
Cal smiled at me and I patted my leg for Apollo to come to heel and he plodded beside me, now a little weary from his explorations on our walk this morning. George was wriggling upright in the bed as his Dad pushed open the door wider and went in. Cal held up a hand to Apollo and I following just behind.
‘Just let me check there’s not been any more …’
I nodded so that he didn’t have to finish the statement.
‘What is it, little mate?’ Cal’s voice was gentle and soothing and I couldn’t resist peeking around the corner of the doorjamb. I wasn’t worried about seeing anything that might upset my delicate sensibilities – primarily because I didn’t have any. I came from a large family that mostly consisted of men and I had spent my college years mostly with blokes who, for reasons I still failed to fathom, felt that the best thing to do after downing a vat of beer at night was to top it off with a greasy kebab. I also had a small brood of nieces and nephews, from which not a single one stood out as not having weed, pooed, or thrown up on me at some point in time. In short, I didn’t scare easily.
‘I’m bored and my tummy hurts,’ George said, his face pale and tired as Cal squatted beside the bed.
‘Martha is going to be here soon and she can read you some more of your story. I know your tummy hurts but it’s better than it was, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ George replied, nodding sadly.
‘Good. And it will get easier as the day goes on. It’s just a bit worn out, like you and me, and needs some sleep. After your story, and a little snooze, you’ll be feeling much better. I promise.’
‘OK. Do you have to go out?’ George’s little hand snuck into his father’s large one.
From my hidden vantage point, I saw a wash of pain cross Cal’s face and something twisted inside me.
‘I’m sorry, Georgie. I do. If I could put it off, I would. But I want you to sleep as much as you can today to make up for last night, so you won’t even notice too much that I’m not here.’
George nodded but he was clearly unconvinced, even though I could see by the state of him that Cal was right. The little boy was heading straight for zonkville. In an ideal world, his dad would be too but we both knew that wasn’t going to happen.
‘In the meantime, there are some people here to see you.’ Cal leant back and saw me peeking. A smile slid onto his face at catching me. He indicated for us to come in and George’s face beamed as he saw us. My smile got wider at his joy as Apollo loped towards him and laid his big head on the duvet around George’s lap and looked up at him with big, heartbreaker eyes. George giggled and folded himself down to wrap his arms around Apollo’s head and cuddled him.
‘Do I get one of those?’ I asked.
George sat up, still grinning as he threw his arms out for me. I wrapped mine around his little body and gave him a big cuddle as Apollo watched us, quirking first one brow and then the other. The dog let out a sigh and slid back into his puppy sit position, his hip resting against Cal’s leg now that he had stood to make way for us next to the bed.
‘I’ve had a poorly tummy,’ George said, as he released me.
‘I know, sweetheart. But you’re looking much better than you did yesterday so you just concentrate on getting better now.’
‘OK.’ George nodded, his hand gravitating to Apollo’s head resting on the bed. He began stroking it and, within moments, both George’s and the dog’s eyes were beginning to droop.
Cal motioned to me and we moved quietly from the room. Once outside, he turned to me. ‘Next time I have trouble getting him to sleep, can you pop over with the dog?’
I grinned. ‘Sure. No problem.’
He returned my grin. ‘OK, I’d better grab that shower. Martha has a key so she’ll let herself in. Wait anywhere you like. Just make yourself at home. I’ll see you in a few minutes.’
‘OK.’ I watched as Cal walked at a fast pace off down the hallway and turned out of sight, before pushing all random thoughts of Cal and showers firmly out of my mind. Wandering back into George’s room, I saw the little boy had now snuggled down in his bed, one arm still around Apollo and the other around Bear. Someone was snoring softly. I ruled out Bear and after glancing at both the other sleeping forms, pinned the blame firmly on the dog and gave him a gentle stroke.
Apollo had soothed many a child – and adult – to sleep since he’d come to us as a gangly puppy three years ago. His gentle nature and mere presence had a way of calming even the busiest of minds. Which probably accounted for why he was currently sleeping at the side of, and occasionally on top of, my bed most nights now. Just knowing he was there made everything that tiny bit less overwhelming. And I was glad he had now worked his magic on little George.
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