Christa was silent.
‘Do you know the number of women who throw themselves at him?’
Now she looked up. ‘I don’t care. Are you trying to suggest that I should be grateful that the rich handsome American is even looking at me, the round, nearly broke, pastry chef?’
Adam stood up. ‘No, it means that he chose you and I want you to wait and find out if you want to choose him, because he’s a helluva guy and you’re a great woman and together you could be amazing.’
He walked to the door and put his hand on the door handle.
‘If you want to go, message me in the morning and I will arrange payment, but I hope you don’t because more than Marc, the twins will be devastated. They also adore you. You have won the Ferrier men’s hearts.’
He left then, closing the door quietly behind him, and Christa fell into bed, closing her eyes, where she prayed for dreams about anything other than Marc and Pudding Hall as she drifted off to sleep.
20
The sound of the twins laughing echoed down the hallway as Marc walked towards the kitchen.
Could he hope that Christa had stayed?
As he pushed open the door that was already slightly ajar, there she was.
Wearing a cream woollen knit and pink lipstick, she glowed as she served the boys strawberries and fresh yogurt on their pancakes.
‘Morning,’ she said cheerfully and he caught her eye and saw her smile at him like she had before this all happened.
‘Mom’s back,’ said Seth, his mouth full as he spoke.
‘And she brought a total douche with her,’ said Ethan as Christa turned away from them, trying to stifle laugher.
‘Don’t say douche,’ said Marc half-heartedly.
‘Pancake? Scrambled eggs and bacon? Omelette?’ she asked as she turned on the coffee machine.
Marc walked behind the kitchen bench and came to her side, taking down two cups from the cupboard above him and placing them on the bench.
‘You stayed,’ he whispered.
She was silent but he felt her hand on his, lingering for a moment, as she took a cup before making him an espresso.
‘You look beautiful today,’ he said. ‘The pink suits you. I also like your pink coat when you wear it – it makes me happy.’
She blushed and handed him the coffee. ‘Someone once told me I looked like a blancmange when I wore it.’
‘I don’t know what that is but I am assuming it’s not a compliment, and I can guess who said it,’ he said, shaking his head.
As though he’d summoned the devil, the kitchen door opened and Avian waltzed in wearing exercise clothes and a smug expression.
‘We went for a run,’ she announced, checking the watch on her wrist. ‘Five miles, pretty good considering we have had zero sleep.’
Simon staggered through the door behind her, gasping for breath.
‘Here comes slow coach,’ said Avian. ‘He’s on a diet. He needs to lose weight so I am working with him to get him camera-ready. You can’t be fat for TV – the camera puts on ten pounds.’
Christa’s back was to them but Marc saw her shoulders square defensively.
‘So, he has to lose weight so he can eat food on TV?’ he heard her say. ‘That sounds ironic.’
‘Yes, it is ironic I guess,’ said Avian as Christa turned around and Marc saw his ex laugh a little at Christa as she looked her up and down.
