Page 7 of The Scrum-Half (Lincoln Knights #3)

Harper

Jack was happily eating animal-shaped cheesy pasta with peas and some grilled chicken when Matty came home.

He still had a bit of a fever and snotty nose, but after a chilled afternoon on the sofa, he seemed to have perked up a little.

We’d watched Robin Hood and a bit of The Nightmare Before Christmas , which Jack said was his favourite film ever, with a good nap in between.

Managing a sick child, no matter how mild the illness, always took a lot of concentration because there was no telling if it would turn more serious.

Kids could be fine one second and be throwing their guts up the next, and when they were little it was so much harder to know how they were actually feeling.

But I had enough experience to know Jack likely just had a bit of a bug, probably something he’d picked up from one of his classmates at nursery since these things tended to go around.

It would clear up in a day or two, and he’d be back to jumping off the sofa while doing his best impression of a fire engine.

In fact, Jack’s illness hadn’t been the worst thing I’d had to deal with.

The real problem was Matty’s overbearing micromanagement.

From phone calls every hour to incessant messages about Jack’s breathing, temperature, and bodily functions, it had been non-stop since lunchtime.

The nanny cams made me feel like I was under constant supervision, and while I’d known other families that used them, none of them had spied on me to the extent they could message me about what I was eating.

I’d take a projectile-vomiting toddler any time over that.

“Hey, how’re you doing, Jack?” Matty asked as he strode into the kitchen like his butt was on fire. I was sat at the table with Jack and tried not to scowl up at my employer by instead imagining his underwear actually catching fire.

Was it petty? Yes. But it helped.

Matty had spent the afternoon tap-dancing all over my limits, and I was this close to being done. The only thing stopping me was the tiny voice in the back of my mind that kept reminding me Matty was obviously struggling with the idea of someone else caring for his son.

I could still imagine his pants catching fire, though.

“I’m nice,” Jack said, scooping up more of the cheesy pasta and inspecting it. I’d realised he liked looking at each mouthful to see what animals he was eating, and it was so adorable my heart squeezed every time he did it. “Look Daddy, a lion!”

“A lion? Does it taste good?”

“Yeah.” Jack nodded as he put the pasta into his mouth and Matty smiled softly as he sat down next to him. I tried to ignore it because one smile wasn’t supposed to undo the seething irritation in my chest.

“Are you feeling better?”

Jack stabbed a piece of chicken with his small fork, ignoring his dad’s question in favour of finishing his dinner. I bit back a smile behind my mug of squash because next time I was pinching that avoidance tactic.

I was waiting for the accusations of cheesy pasta being nutritionally empty despite the addition of grilled chicken and peas, but I hated the idea of categorising food as good or bad.

Food to me should always be neutral, and if we wanted to focus on anything, it should be on eating tasty things that gave us energy and made us strong.

“Can I have some of your pasta, please?” Matty asked. “It looks very nice.”

“No.” Jack shook his head gently. “It’s mine.”

“Did you help make this one?”

“Not today,” I said as Matty stared at me like he was silently accusing me of making his sick child cook his own meals. “You did a little bit of colouring while I cooked, didn’t you?”

“I did a lion and a fairy,” Jack said.

“Sounds fun,” Matty said. He looked desperate to ask more questions but wasn’t going to cross-examine me in front of Jack.

“You called a lot today, Daddy. You never do that,” Jack said casually as he picked up more chicken. “I couldn’t hear Robin.”

Oh, the brutal honesty of toddlers. I sipped my squash as Matty’s cheeks flushed above his beard, which looked very tousled and scruffy, like he’d run his hands through it multiple times. It looked very good on him.

No , bad Harper. Matty was irritating, not hot.

“Well, er, you weren’t feeling good, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Next time do it less,” Jack said, looking down at his pasta and frowning. “Harper, can I have more lions?”

“Please,” Matty said automatically. “Can I have more lions, please?”

“Peas,” Jack said. “Peas, Harper. More lions.”

“Let me see what I can do.” I smiled at him as I stood, leaving my mug behind. There was still a bit of pasta left in the saucepan because I hadn’t been sure how hungry Jack would be. The rest could either be leftovers or I’d throw it in with whatever I made myself later.

Sometimes I made food and ate with the kids, but some days I waited until later. It really depended on how I felt and whether I wanted to eat what I was planning on making them. Because there were days I just wanted egg and chips when it wasn’t on the menu plan.

“Okay, we’ve got a couple of lions,” I said as I stirred the pasta, peering at the shapes. “A rhino. Ooh, and some giraffes. Oh, and a couple of monkeys. Think you can eat all of that?”

“Monkeys!” Jack screeched with excitement and I chuckled. He was definitely feeling better, and there was a suspicion in my gut that he’d be up and jumping on the bed at four in the morning.

Matty frowned and put his hand out to touch Jack’s forehead, then looked down at his plate. “Are you sure you want more? I think you should eat what you’ve got first. Look, there’s a monkey there.”

“No Daddy,” Jack said, trying to bat his hand away.

“His temperature when I last checked was thirty-seven point nine. Just below a fever,” I said calmly, bringing Jack a couple of pieces of monkey-shaped pasta to encourage him to keep eating. Which he did with gusto.

“Only by point one of a degree.”

“I know, but it’s a good sign.”

Matty screwed up his face, a grumbling hum emanating from his throat. It was obvious he wanted to argue with me but was holding back because of Jack. “How about a bath after this? Then we can read some books before bed.”

“As long as it’s Tango,” Jack said, shooting his dad a phenomenal amount of suspicious side-eye. Matty said they didn’t usually have any problems with bathtime, but I was now wondering whether that was because there was bribery involved.

“Yeah, we can read that one.”

“And Little Bear .”

“Sure, mate. We can have that one too.”

“And the cake book?”

“Which one is that?” Matty asked, clearly thinking through Jack’s bookshelf as he tried to place it. That was the thing with small children—you had to play detective for half of the conversation.

“With the cakes! And the fire. And the spider!” Jack sighed and reached out a cheese-covered hand to pat Matty’s arm. “I’ll find it, Daddy.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Can Harper read with us?”

“Well, er, you’ll have to ask him. It’s after he’s finished his day, so he might want to have his own dinner or maybe…” He trailed off and offered Jack a half smile.

“Harper, will you have story time with us? Peas?” Jack asked as he turned to me, clearly undeterred. And why would he be? He wasn’t even three. He had no idea how to read the weird nuances and unspoken undertones of adult conversation. I struggled with it myself sometimes.

Truth be told, I had no idea if Matty wanted me there or not, and I wasn’t sure if I was willing to spend more time with him.

“How about I come for one story? Then you can have two stories with just you and Daddy. I think he’d like that,” I said.

Jack thought for a second before nodding and scooping up more of his pasta. “Okay.”

“Perfect.”

Matty smiled at me and I returned the gesture. But I wasn’t sure either of us meant it.

“Jack’s asleep,” Matty said a couple of hours later as he strolled back into the kitchen where I was making myself dinner. After the day I’d had, I was indulging in my own heaped bowl of cheesy pasta. Because cheese might not solve my problems, but it would damn sure make me feel better.

“Good,” I said, because I couldn’t exactly ignore him.

“He was still warm, so I’ll stay up and keep an eye on him.”

“Okay.”

There was a long pause. I stirred my cheese sauce, hoping it would thicken faster so I could retreat to my floor.

“Can you tell me what I missed this afternoon? I couldn’t check in as much as I’d wanted,” Matty said. He was stood on the other side of the kitchen island, scrutinising me carefully.

“Not much.” I jabbed my sauce again and tried to squash my frustration. I didn’t know why it was irritating me so much, because he had every right to be concerned. It felt vaguely like it was to do with trust, but I hadn’t quite figured out the right words.

With a sigh I added, “Jack had a good nap, used the toilet pretty much by himself, chatted off and on through the films, sung along with some of the songs—although his lyrics were more of an interpretation—and did some colouring while I cooked. And he decided what he wanted for dinner between two options I gave him. You know everything else.”

“What options did you give him for dinner?”

“Cheesy pasta with chicken and peas or homemade nuggets with mashed potato and peas.”

“He turned down homemade nuggets?”

“Well, cheese does make everything better.”

“It really does,” Matty said with a wry chuckle, shaking his head fondly. He sighed and drummed his fingers on the counter as I picked up the grater to add more cheese to my sauce. “Do you think… did I call too much today? Jack said it again at bedtime. He was pretty cross with me.”

“Would you like me to answer that honestly?”

“I hoped you would, but now I’m not sure if I want you to.”

“Then yes, you did.” I glanced down at the small mountain of cheese I’d added to the saucepan. It was probably enough. I added a bit more for good measure. “Look, I know you were worried about him, but please believe me when I say that if I thought it was serious, I’d have told you.”

“I do believe you,” he said, frowning.

“Do you? Because you don’t act like it.”

“Am I not meant to check in then? Just trust you.”

“Yes! You just said you believed me then turned about and said you didn’t trust me,” I said, screwing my face up as I exhaled slowly through my nose.

“You can absolutely check in, but it doesn’t need to be every hour on the hour with messages every five minutes about whatever you can see through the nanny cam.

I’ve never been so closely surveilled in my life. ”

“Never? Didn’t your other employers—”

“No, they trusted me.”

“I’m sorry, I find that hard to do.”

“Obviously.”

He looked like he was about to say something else, maybe to crank up this disagreement into a full-scale row, when his phone rang loudly. The sound startled both of us, brash and alien but not entirely unwelcome. “Sorry,” he said as he pulled it out of his pocket. “I need to answer this.”

“Be my guest.”

“Hey, Hannah,” he said, turning away and walking out of the kitchen.

I tuned him out as soon as he left because it wasn’t any of my business. Besides, Matty leaving was the perfect opportunity for me to make my escape and I had to do it sharpish in case he came back.

Throwing my cooked pasta into the sauce, I gave everything a quick stir before scooping it into a bowl.

The sauce was so thick and cheesy I could stand a spoon up in it, and if I’d had more time, I’d have put it under the grill to crisp up.

But my time was limited, so I put the pan into the sink to soak, picked up my prize, and scuttled off towards the stairs.

Definitely not pausing for a couple of seconds outside the living room to catch Matty’s conversation.

And definitely not chuckling to myself when I heard a female voice say, “You can be a right prick sometimes.”