He's My Husband! - Lindsay Armstrong [37]
Nicola closed her mouth and suddenly leant her forehead on his shoulder.
He said nothing, but held her gently, and she felt the warmth of him through his shirt, his strength that was so close, and for an instant she was tempted to break down and say simply, I love you, Brett. But the problem is, what’s the use of being in love with someone who’s not the slightest bit in love with you? And I could never live with what you call a real marriage if I knew it was inspired by the desire to fool Marietta into thinking you were over her.
‘Nicola?’
She lifted her head. ‘Sorry. Life just gets a bit complicated at times.’
‘You’re not wrong.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘Shall we take it one crisis at a time for the moment?’
‘Of course.’ She stiffened. ‘Let’s go—what am I thinking about? Poor Chris!’
It was a clean break, with no complications, and would heal quickly, the doctor assured them. They were able to take Chris home with them, his right leg encased in a plaster cast from his thigh to his toes, a few hours later.
Probably still on a high from being so much the centre of attention, Chris was putting an extremely brave face on things, but Sasha was a different matter. She couldn’t do enough for her brother, and was obviously highly worked up.
‘I’m not sure what’s worse—to have them fighting or this,’ Brett said ruefully at one stage.
Then bedtime came, and he decided to move Chris’s bed into his room.
‘You can sleep with me, Sash,’ Nicola said quickly as Sasha looked hurt.
‘Good thinking, Gunga Din,’ Brett murmured, and later he came to say goodnight to them.
Sasha was asleep by this time, curled up like a kitten beside Nicola. ‘She’ll be better tomorrow,’ Nicola whispered, and stroked Sasha’s curls.
Brett said nothing, but gazed at his daughter, then lifted his hazel eyes to his wife’s with a clear question in them.
‘Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.’ Nicola swallowed. ‘This isn’t the—’
‘The time or the place?’ he finished for her, and she thought his mouth hardened briefly. But he added, ‘Point taken. Sleep well.’ And he closed the door quietly.
Nicola switched off the bedside lamp and cuddled up to Sasha. The thing is, she thought desolately, will there ever be a right time or place for me where you’re concerned, Brett?
He took the day off work the next day, and was soon doing a jigsaw puzzle with the kids whilst Nicola helped Ellen make the beds.
For once, Ellen chose to make her feelings plain. ‘Their mother,’ she said darkly, having been apprised of Marietta’s imminent arrival on the scene. ‘Last thing we need, if you ask me. She was always good at stealing the limelight!’
Nicola made a neat nurse’s corner with sheet and blanket and walked to the other side of the bed. ‘She is still their mother, Ellen.’
Ellen snorted. ‘Some mother. Could you have walked out on two babies? That’s all they were! Mind you, I don’t know why I was surprised. I saw more of them than she did after the first few months. Always at that dratted piano, she was, and never to be disturbed.’
‘Lots of mothers work,’ Nicola pointed out.
‘Lots of mothers have to work, in order to put food in their mouths and a roof over their heads.’
Nicola acknowledged this with a shrug, but said, ‘Can you imagine her sitting home twiddling her thumbs all day, though?’
‘She’d be like a caged tiger. But you should think of these things before you have a family!’
Nicola sighed. ‘I don’t think very artistic people are like the rest of us, though. I think their art drives them—and there’s not much they can do about it.’
‘You’re more understanding than most,’ Ellen said dryly. ‘Do you know what she said to him once? You probably don’t; you weren’t here right in the thick of things like I was. She said, “Just give me five years, Brett, that’s all I need, then I’ll be anything you want me to be. But if I fade out now, I’ll never make it back again.’” Ellen shook her head.
Nicola bent over and plumped up pillows energetically