Chistmas In Manhattan Collection. Alison Roberts
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Protecting his siblings had become second nature to Charles ever since the Davenports’ sheltered world had imploded all those years ago.
And his parents? Hugo Davenport had retired as Chief of Emergency to allow Charles to take the position but he’d barely had time for his own children as they were growing up and he would be at a complete loss if he was left with the sole responsibility of boisterous twin almost three-year-olds. It would be sole responsibility, too, because Vanessa had led an almost completely separate life ever since the scandal, and playing happy grandparents together would never be added to her agenda.
His mother would rush to help, of course, and put out the word that she urgently needed the services of the best nanny available in New York but Charles didn’t want that. He didn’t want a stranger suddenly appearing in his home. His boys had to feel loved and totally secure at all times. He’d promised them that much when they were only an hour old—in those terrible first minutes after their mother’s death.
His grip tightened on the hand of each twin.
‘You were both very brave in the dark,’ he told them. ‘And you’ve both been a big help by being so good when you had to stay at Daddy’s work all day. I’m very, very proud of you both.’
‘So we can go to the park?’
‘Tomorrow,’ he promised. ‘We’ll go to the park even if it’s still raining. You can put your rubber boots on and jump in all the puddles.’
They could take some time out and make the outside world unimportant for an hour or two. Maybe he would be able to put aside the guilt that he was taking emergency leave from his work and stop fretting that he was creating extra pressure for Elijah or that his other siblings would worry about him when they heard that he was struggling as a single parent—yet again. Maybe he could even forget about the background tension of being part of a family that was a far cry from the united presence they could still display for the sake of a gala fundraising event or any other glittering, high-society occasion. A family whose motto of ‘What happens in the family stays in the family’ had been sorely tested but had, in recent years, regained its former strength.
A yellow taxi swooped into the kerb, sending a spray of water onto the pavement. Charles hurried the twins past a taco restaurant, souvenir shop, a hot dog stand and the twenty-four-seven deli to turn into the tree-lined avenue that was the prestigious address for the brownstone apartment block they called home.
And it was then that Charles recognised why he’d felt the urge to reach out and try to help Grace Forbes.
Like taking the boys to the park, it felt like he had the opportunity to shut the rest of the world out to some extent.
Grace was part of a world that had ceased to exist when the trauma of the family trouble had threatened everything the Davenport family held dear. It had been the happiest time of Charles’s life. He had been achieving his dream of following in his father’s footsteps and becoming a doctor who could one day be in charge of the most challenging and exciting place he had ever known—Manhattan Mercy’s ER. The biggest problem he’d had was how to balance a demanding social life with the drive to achieve the honour of topping his class, and the only real barrier to that position had been Grace.
He’d managed to succeed, despite the appalling pressure that had exploded around him in the run-up to final exams, by focusing only on the things that mattered the most—supporting his mother and protecting his siblings from the fallout of scandal and passing those exams with the best possible results. He had been forced to dismiss Grace, along with every other social aspect of his life. And he’d learned to dismiss any emotion that could threaten his goals.
But he had never forgotten how simple and happy his life at medical school had been up until that point.
And, if he was honest, he’d never forgotten that night with Grace...
He could never go back, of course, but the pull of even connecting with it from a distance was surprisingly compelling. And what harm could it do? His life wasn’t about to change. He had his boys and he had his job and that was all he needed. All he could ever hope for.
But Grace had been special. And there was something about her that made him think that, perhaps—like him—life hadn’t quite turned out the way she’d planned. Or deserved?
‘Shall we stop and say hello to Horse before we go upstairs?’
‘Yes...’ The tug on his hands was in a forward direction now, instead of a reluctant weight he was encouraging to follow him. ‘Let’s go, Daddy...’
‘SO HERE’S THE THING...’
‘Mmm?’ Grace was still trying to get her head around hearing Charles Davenport’s voice on a phone for the first time ever.
The twang of a New York accent had probably been mellowed by so many years at exclusive, private schools but his enunciation was crisp. Decisive, even. It made her think of someone in a suit. Presenting a killer summary in a courtroom, perhaps. Or detailing a take-over bid in the boardroom of a global company.
She was sitting cross-legged on the couch in Helena’s apartment, a take-out container of pad Thai on her lap and a pair of chopsticks now idle in her hands. She was in her pyjamas already, thanks to getting soaked in the tail end of the storm during her long walk home from the nearest subway station.
Was her attire partly responsible for hearing that slightly gravelly edge to Charles’s voice that made her think that he would sound just like that if his head was on a pillow, very close to her own?
‘Sorry...did you say your neighbour’s name was Houston? As in “Houston, we have a problem”?’
The chuckle of laughter came out of the phone and went straight for somewhere deep in Grace’s chest. Or maybe her belly. It created a warmth that brought a smile to her face.
‘Exactly. It’s their dog that’s called Houston and they chose the name on the first day they brought him home as a puppy when they found what he’d left in the middle of their white carpet.’
The bubble of her own laughter took Grace by surprise. Because it felt like the kind of easy laughter that she hadn’t experienced in such a long time? The kind that made her think of a first date? Or worse, made her remember that night. When Charles had found her, so stressed before the start of their final exams that she was in pieces and he’d tried to reassure her. To distract her, by talking to her rather like this. By making her laugh through her tears and then...
And then there’d been that astonishing moment when they couldn’t break the eye contact between them and the kiss that had started everything had been as inevitable as the sun rising the next morning.
It was an effort to force herself to focus on what Charles was actually saying as he kept talking.
‘The boys call him Horse, because they weren’t even two when he arrived and they couldn’t pronounce Houston but he’s quite big so that seemed to work, too.’
Grace cleared her throat, hoping her voice would come out sounding normal. How embarrassing would it be if it was kind of husky and betrayed those memories that refused to stay where they should be. Buried.
‘What sort of dog is he?’
‘A retro doodle. Half poodle, half golden retriever. One of those designer, hypo-allergenic kind of dogs, you know? But he’s lovely. Very well behaved and gentle.’
Grace closed her eyes for a moment. This was so weird. She hadn’t seen Charles Davenport in more than a decade but here they were chatting about something completely random as if they were friends who caught up every other week. And they’d never been friends, exactly. Friendly, certainly—with a lot of respect for each other’s abilities. And they’d been passionate—so briefly it had always seemed like nothing more than a fantasy that had unexpectedly achieved reality. But this?