Seeing Rhys in this new light was like discovering a secret room in a house you thought you knew. It had happened to me once, professionally, and had been really thrilling... but this was even better. It shone a spotlight on a whole new side of him and touched something in me that I hadn’t even known was there.
Feeling a little unsettled, I quickly scooped up the blanket and stuffed it, along with my laptop and folder, into the large canvas tote I’d brought to the park. The sandwich remains I took to the base of the tree and made a low clicking noise, which I hoped the squirrel would understand meant I left this for you.
When I straightened up, Rhys was watching me with an intrigued smile on his face. In one hand he was carrying the tote and in the other he had my shoes.
‘Looks like Tasha isn’t the only Doctor Dolittle in the park today.’
I gave a half-embarrassed grin and reached out to relieve him of my belongings, but he just shook his head. ‘That’s okay. I’ll carry them. Unless you need these back, Shoe Girl,’ he said, his eyes going to my bare feet.
I shook my head, secretly loving the nonsense nickname he’d given me. Our footsteps fell naturally in sync as we walked towards the park cat and its newest number-one fan.
‘Do you think he has a home?’ Tasha asked Rhys wistfully as we approached.
‘I think he belongs to the lady who runs the café,’ I said gently, not wanting to disappoint Tasha, nor be part of a catnapping plot.
‘That’s good to know,’ Rhys said, dropping to a crouch to scratch the feline between his eyes.
I was going to have to look an awful lot harder to find some flaws in this man, because thus far I hadn’t stumbled across a single one.
‘I wish we could change Mummy’s mind about getting a cat. I could take my allergy pills every day.’
And there you have it. There’s the flaw, the fly in the ointment. This man has commitments and a partner who wants him back. He isn’t even remotely unattached. Why is it so hard to keep remembering that?
‘I wanted a cat too when I was your age,’ I said, joining them on the ground beside the loudly purring feline. ‘But I never got to own one.’
‘Why not?’ Tasha was now staring at me, as though sensing a kindred spirit.
‘My mum was allergic.’ Was that really true? It was a fact I’d never actually questioned until that moment.
‘Do you still live with your mum?’
I swallowed the lump of grief that threatened to lock my throat.
‘No, sweetheart, I don’t, not anymore.’
‘So why don’t you have a cat now?’
I’d had job interviews that hadn’t felt as probing. I think Rhys must have sensed my discomfort, for he ruffled his daughter’s hair. ‘Come on, you. That’s enough interrogating for one day. Let’s go and get that ice cream I promised you.’
We all got to our feet, but before I could make my excuses to leave, a small soft hand curled its way into mine.
‘Can Ellie come with us?’
I threw a surprised glance Rhys’s way. ‘Oh no, that’s fine. I don’t want to intrude—’
‘You wouldn’t be,’ Rhys replied. ‘If you can spare the time, we’d love you to join us.’
There were probably a great many excuses I could have made, should have made, but every single one escaped me as I stood there in the sunshine with Rhys and his daughter.
As we headed towards the park gates, Tasha tugged on my arm, bringing me down to her level and allowing her to whisper softly into my ear.
‘I’m sorry you never got a cat, Ellie.’
I’d thought my greatest challenge was going to be how not to fall in love with Rhys, but I realised in that moment that it might be just as hard not to fall for his daughter too.
There were smears of chocolate around her lips. They made me reach for a serviette in case I also wore traces of the most decadent ice cream I’d ever eaten. It had been big enough to feed a family of four, and I’d ended up admitting defeat long before the plate was even half cleared.
The ice cream parlour had only recently opened, and with its 1950s American décor and queue that snaked out of the door, it looked to be a huge success. We were surrounded on every side by families seated at gingham cloth-covered tables. I shifted a little on my milk churn stool, wondering if it was as apparent as it felt that I was an imposter here. We might look like a family, but a beautiful blonde-haired woman was meant to be sitting in my place.