He closed the door and made safe his escape.
That night Alex dreamed he was searching through the endless rooms of that brooding mansion, searching for Chad again, the childish laughter always just out of reach.
And, just like the other times, he jerked awake, drenched in sweat and with Chad’s name on his lips.
CHAPTER TEN
ALEX dunked his paintbrush into the can of paint and set about slapping it on the neatly sanded, newly primed weatherboards of Kit’s cottage. White paint.
One corner of his mouth kicked up. She had chosen white for the main body of the house and blue for the window and door trims. She’d snorted when he’d presented her with an array of colour cards with exotic names like fresh linen, grey gum, desert sand and sage. ‘I don’t want any of that modern nonsense, Alex. I’ve always wanted a white house with a blue trim. Ever since I was a little girl.
I’m not going to change my mind now.’
And she hadn’t.
So he was painting her house white with a blue trim, and found he was enjoying himself.
Next week he’d paint the interior—white ceilings, cream wal s. She wanted her house light and bright and airy. It was her house. He’d paint it any colour she wanted.
The new shower unit was due to arrive at the end of the week and then he could get to work on the bathroom. Once that was done, al that would be left was the nursery.
His gut clenched and his hand slowed. That would mean looking at baby stuff with Kit, wouldn’t it? He could imagine her face going al soft and misty as she looked at cribs and little blankets and changing tables with colourful mobiles. He dunked his paintbrush in the can of paint again and concentrated on transferring it to the weatherboards.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Kit had a way of making just about anything fun.
Besides, al that baby stuff could be ridiculously expensive. He slapped paint on with renewed vigour.
He had no intention of letting Kit pick up the tab for that.
Kit. The thought of her had images rising through him. His hand slowed, the paintbrush almost coming to a halt. Last night while he’d cooked dinner—a chore they’d taken in turns since the night of their fish barbecue— she’d laid stretched out ful -length on one of the sofas watching TV. She’d reached for the remote on the table behind and the action had stretched her T-shirt tight, giving him an eyeful of her baby bulge—smal , but unmistakable. And perfect.
He hadn’t been able to look away, even when she’d returned to her former position.
Beneath her shirt she carried his baby.
He’d stumbled back into the kitchen, trying to decipher the emotions tumbling through him.
His first instinct had been denial. He couldn’t get emotional y involved with this baby. He’d lost it al once before. He couldn’t go through that again. His second thought had been…
Hope?
Alex swiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm and gave up al pretence of painting for the moment. The longer he stayed here with Kit the more it seemed possible that he could do what she wanted of him, be what she wanted—an involved father. The thought made his heart thud against his ribs again, just like it had last night.
He’d started tel ing himself that this time it would be different. As the child’s biological father, he’d have rights. Besides, Kit had more generosity in her little finger than Jacqueline had in her entire being.
Plans started racing through his mind. He could work in Sydney through the week and then shoot up here to Tuncurry for the weekends.
Better yet, he could relocate here. He set the paintbrush down and rested his hands on his knees, his mind racing even faster. Kit had said the tourism industry was booming. There’d be property development opportunities galore. He could set up an office in Forster that specialised in developing eco-tourist resorts.
And he could be a part of his child’s life.
Al his plans slammed to a halt. He swal owed. He couldn’t give Kit what she wanted, what she needed.
Sweat beaded his top lip, gathered at his nape and trickled a path of ice down his back. Eventual y Kit would meet someone and fal in love with them.
She’d marry. And his child would have a stepfather.
He tried to push back the darkness that threatened to swal ow him whole. He rubbed a fist across his brow. Kit deserved to find someone, to be happy, but…
but…
What then? What if she relocated to Perth or…or to America?
Why would this time be any different? Why should it al work out for him now?
Because he wanted it to?
A harsh laugh broke from a throat that ached.
Grabbing the paintbrush, he forced himself back to work. He’d be a fool to get his hopes up.
The back door slammed, jerking him out from beneath the darkness stealing over him.
‘Good to see Kit has you working so hard.’
