Fiona Lowe – Double Trouble: Pregnancy Surprise: Two Little Miracles / Expecting Royal Twins! / Miracle: Twin Babies (страница 21)

‘Shh,’ she said. ‘Not in front of the children.’

And he laughed, the first real, proper laugh she’d heard from him in years, and then the laughter faded and their eyes locked, and he stopped breathing.

She knew that, because she could see his chest freeze, and his heart was pounding, the pulse visible in the hollow of his throat, beating in time with hers. And then he seemed to come out of the trance and dragged in a breath and looked away. Somehow that freed her, too, so she made tea and put bread in the mesh toast-holder that went under the cover of the hotplate, and when the water was boiling she made a pot of tea and put the wire holder under the cover to toast the bread—and all the time all she could think about was the sound of his laugh, and how the tears last night seemed to have freed his emotions.

Did that mean he’d be able to play?

She hoped so. She’d always known there was another side of him, one he kept shut down, and she couldn’t wait to meet the other Max.

‘So what are we going to do today?’ she asked.

‘What’s it like outside?’

‘Cold. Bright and sunny, but cold. The wind’s chilly.’

‘So—something indoors? How about going to find a better stairgate?’

‘That’s a good idea. And they could do with some more clothes, if we’re going to one of the big shops. They’re growing like weeds.’

‘That’ll be chewing the loo brush,’ he said drily, and she stared at him in horror.

‘What?’

‘Ava,’ he told her, and she looked down at her elder daughter in the playpen, happily gumming away on a plastic toy, and felt sick.

‘When?’

‘The other day in the bathroom. Don’t worry, she didn’t actually get it in her mouth,’ he said, and she realised he’d been joking and felt her shoulders sag.

‘Is that how it ended up on the window sill?’

‘Yup.’

‘Oh, the little horror. She’s never done that before.’

‘Probably because you’re more efficient with them than I am. She was at a loose end for rather too long while I prevaricated about the temperature of the water. So—shopping?’

She stared at him. He sounded—good grief—almost enthusiastic. He’d never sounded enthusiastic about shopping before. He’d hardly ever gone shopping before. Except for clothes, and that was more a case of visiting his tailor for suits and shirts. She’d always bought anything less critical for him, and always in a stolen moment from the office during a meeting that he was attending without her.

Quite simply, there had never been time for shopping in their old life, and, if he was looking forward to it now, well, she wasn’t going to waste the experience.

‘Let’s go to Lakeside,’ she suggested. ‘There are all sorts of shops there, and it’s all under cover, so we don’t have to worry about the babies getting cold. We can make a day of it.’

She hadn’t been joking.

He hadn’t really believed that there could be so many shops all selling similar things lined up row after row after row. Well, he’d known they existed, of course he did, but that they should be so heaving with people on a February week-day stunned him.

But they found a stairgate for the babies, and lots of clothes, nappies and toys—so many, in fact, that he ended up making more than one trip back to the car to offload them. And there was a special baby zone, where they were able to feed and change the babies, and for once he managed not to get too messy.

Then it was back to the fray, and he caught Jules looking longingly at a clothes shop. For women.

‘When did you last buy anything new?’ he asked, and she smiled wryly.

‘What, apart from jeans and jumpers? I can’t remember. But I don’t need anything else.’

‘Yes, you do,’ he told her. ‘Of course you do.’

‘When for?’

He shrugged. ‘When I take you out for dinner?’

‘What, with the babies in tow?’

‘No. When we get a babysitter.’

‘I don’t know a babysitter—well, apart from Jane, and she won’t want to babysit for me in the evening. I usually take the girls round to her if I need to go somewhere where I can’t take them.’

‘My mother?’

‘Linda? She lives in London.’

‘She’d come up.’

‘What—just so you can take me out for dinner? That’s a bit of an ask.’

‘We could stay there.’

In their old room? The one where they’d stayed in the past? She was looking doubtful, and he realised why.

‘Sorry. I’m getting ahead of the game here, but—why not buy a dress? Something pretty. A top, maybe, if you don’t want a dress, or some new trousers. You can always dress up at home, if you want to.’

‘But I don’t,’ she said bluntly, and he blinked.

She was looking at him as if he’d suggested something wrong, and it dawned on him that she was taking it as a criticism of her clothes.

‘Oh, Jules, don’t get uppity. I wasn’t criticising. I just thought—if you wanted something pretty—’ He broke off. ‘It doesn’t matter. Forget it. I’m sorry.’

And, without waiting for her response, he walked away.

Damn.

Had she misread him? Because she’d love to buy some new clothes, something pretty that fitted her new, different body and made her feel like a woman again instead of a milk machine.

Underwear. Pretty, sexy underwear.

For Max?

Maybe. God knows he wasn’t seeing her in her nursing bras.

And a pretty top, and some nice, well-cut trousers that didn’t cling to her lumpy thighs like glue. None of her old trousers fitted her any more. They were all too tight, but she’d been stick-thin when they’d been jetting all over the place, because there had quite simply never been time to eat.

But she had time now, and the inclination, to keep herself well, and so she had curves where she’d never had curves before.

She grabbed the hands of the baby buggy and ran after him. ‘Max? Max, stop! Please!’

He stopped, and she caught up with him and tried a smile. ‘I’m sorry. I misunderstood—and you’re right. I’d love to get some new things. I actually need to get some new things. Can you bear it?’

‘Only if I get to see them as you try them on.’

‘Oh. I was talking about underwear, really.’

His eyes flared, then darkened. ‘Even better,’ he murmured, and she felt a soft tide of colour sweep over her cheeks.

‘You can’t—’

‘Maybe not in the shop,’ he agreed. ‘But later.’

She swallowed. ‘OK, forget the underwear,’ she said hastily, and he pulled a face, but he laughed anyway.

‘So, what else?’

‘Just—tops, trousers. It won’t take long.’

He snorted. ‘I’m not that naïve. Why don’t I take the kids with me and leave you to it for an hour or so? You can ring me when you’re ready, and I’ll come and pay.’

‘You don’t have to pay!’ she protested, but he just raised an eyebrow.

‘Jules, you’re my wife,’ he said firmly. ‘And I will quite happily pay for your clothes. I’ve just paid several hundred thousand pounds for the sake of spending a little time with you. I don’t think the odd top or pair of trousers is going to make a whole lot of difference.’