‘We do.’ She switched into superpolite mode, the one she used for difficult clients, before she was tempted to strangle him. ‘Could you perhaps phone her and see when’s a good time for her to join us?’

‘No,’ he said tightly.

Superpolite mode off. ‘Either she really, really trusts you,’ Emmy said, ‘or you’re even more of a control freak than I thought.’

‘It isn’t an issue,’ Dylan said, ‘because we’re separated.’ He glared at her.

‘Happy, now?’

What? Since when had Dylan split up with his wife? And why? But Emmy damped the questions down. It wasn’t any of her business. Whereas Tyler’s damped the questions down. It wasn’t any of her business. Whereas Tyler’s

welfare—that was most definitely her business.

‘I guess it makes this issue a bit less complicated,’ she said. Especially given

what the social worker had suggested to her yesterday—something Emmy had

baulked at, but which might turn out to be a sensible solution now.

She took a sip of coffee. ‘Maybe,’ she said slowly, ‘Pete and Ally thought that

between us we could give Tyler what he needs.’

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘How do you mean?’

‘We have different strengths.’ And different weaknesses, but she wasn’t going

to point that out. They were going to need to work together on this, and now wasn’t the time for a fight. ‘We can bring different things to his life.’

He folded his arms. ‘So I do the serious stuff and you do all the fun and glitter?’

Emmy had been prepared to compromise, but this was too much. And this was

exactly why she’d disliked Dylan from practically the moment they’d met.

Because he was judgemental, arrogant, and had the social skills of a rhino. Either

he genuinely didn’t realise what he’d just said or he really didn’t care—and she wasn’t sure which. She lifted her chin. ‘You mean, because I work with pretty, shiny things, they distract my poor little female brain from being able to focus

on anything real?’ she asked, her voice like cut glass.

His wince told her that he hadn’t actually meant to insult her. ‘Put that way, it sounds bad.’

‘It is bad, Dylan. Look, you know I have my own business. If I was an airhead, unable to do a basic set of yearly accounts and work out my profit margins, then I’d be starving and in debt up to my eyeballs. Just to clarify the

situation for you, that’s not the case. My bank account’s in the black and my business is doing just fine, thank you. Or will you be requiring a letter from my bank manager to prove that?’

He held her gaze. ‘OK. I apologise. I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘Good. Apology accepted.’ And maybe she should cut him some slack. He’d

said that Pete was as close to him as a brother, so right now he was obviously hurting as much as she was. Especially as he was having to deal with a relationship break-up as well. And Dylan Harper was the most formal, uptight

man Emmy had ever met, which meant he probably wasn’t so good at emotional

stuff. No doubt lashing out and making snippy remarks was his way of dealing

with things. Letting it go—this time—didn’t mean that she was going to let him walk all over her in the future.

‘OK, so we don’t get on; but this isn’t actually about us. It’s about a little boy who has nobody, and giving him a stable home where he can grow up knowing who has nobody, and giving him a stable home where he can grow up knowing he’s loved and valued.’ And this wasn’t the first time she and Dylan had had to

put their differences aside. They’d managed it for Pete and Ally’s wedding.

When, come to think of it, Dylan’s wife had been away on business and hadn’t been able to attend, despite the fact that she worked with the groom and was married to the best man.

Emmy and Dylan had put their differences aside again two months ago, in the

same ancient little church where Ally and Pete had got married, when they’d

stood by the font and made their promises as godparents. Dylan’s wife had been

absent then, too. So maybe the marriage had been in trouble for a while, and Pete

knew what was going on in Dylan’s life. Which would make a bit more sense of the decision to ask both Dylan and Emmy to be Tyler’s guardian.

She looked Dylan straight in the eye. ‘I meant every word I said in church on my godson’s christening day. I intend to be there for him.’ Was Emmy implying that he wasn’t? Dylan felt himself bristling. ‘I meant every word I said, too.’

‘Right.’

But he couldn’t discern an edge in her voice—at least, not like the one that had been there when he’d as good as called her an airhead. And that mollified him slightly. Maybe they could work together on this. Maybe she’d put the baby

first instead of being the overemotional, needy mess she’d been when he’d first

met her. Emmy wasn’t serious and focused, like Nadine. She was unstructured

and flaky. Something Dylan refused to put up with; he’d already had to deal with

enough of that kind of behaviour in his life. No more.

‘Look, Ally and Pete wanted us to take care of their baby, if anything happened to them.’ She swallowed hard. ‘And the worst has happened.’

Dylan could see the sheen of tears in her grey eyes, and her lower lip actually

started to wobble. Oh, no. Please don’t let her cry. He wasn’t good with tears.

And he’d seen enough of them in those last few weeks with Nadine to last him a lifetime. If Emmy started crying, he’d have to walk out of the café. Because right now he couldn’t cope with any more emotional pressure. As it was, he felt as if the world had slipped and he were slowly sliding backwards, unable to stop

himself and with nothing to hang on to.

She dragged in a breath. ‘We’re going to have to work together on this and put

our personal feelings aside.’

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