He grinned that boyish smile and sat up. The covers fell down into his lap as he moved, exposing all of his brilliance. “You said I could sleep in here. I carried you to bed. You don’t remember?” he asked, stretching. As he moved, the guardian angel tattoo seemed to dance along with his muscles. I resisted the urge to lean in and run my tongue over it.

Swallowing my wave of desire, I pushed myself up on my elbows. “Yeah, I remember now,” I croaked. “I thought I was dreaming,” I admitted.

He grinned over his shoulder at me and raised one eyebrow. “Oh, so you dream about me often?”

The blush crept over my face before I could stop it. ‘All the time’ was the truthful answer, but I couldn’t say that. “I’d better go see to Sash,” I muttered, sidestepping his question because our daughter was still shouting at me to get her out of her cot.

He shook his head and grinned, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’ll go. You sleep in. I need some catch-up time with my other girl anyway.” Before I could process what he meant by that, he leant over and planted a kiss on my forehead. “I’ve never been happier to come home.”

The blush crept up over my face before I could quash it. “Well, I know Sasha will be over the moon you’re back.” I know I am, I wanted to add, but didn’t.

He grinned, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and picking up his jeans, sliding his legs into them before standing up and zipping his fly as he walked out of the room.

“Mummy!” Sasha called again. Through the monitor, I heard her door creak open and then a gasp of surprise. “Daddy? Daddddddddddyyyyyyyy!”

“Hey, sweetness! You miss me? Oh, man, you have no idea how much I missed you.”

EVEN RORY SEEMED HAPPY to have Carson back in the house, though he was trying exceptionally hard not to show it. When Carson suggested he kick my brother’s arse on FIFA, Rory protested for a whole ten seconds before he agreed, and they both disappeared upstairs to play a game or two, or six based on how long they were up there and the jibing they were doing.

That afternoon, Jillian, Carson’s mother called to ask if she could come over. She had yet to meet Sasha because when she’d come last time to sit in on the wedding plans, she’d already been in bed. Now, it seemed, Jillian wanted to meet her granddaughter.

Nervous didn’t quite cover how I felt as I dressed Sasha in one of the beautiful dresses Carson had bought for her when we moved in. I also made a little effort this time, seeing as last time I met her I was in jeans and a hoodie. This time, I made sure to put on a nice, long shirt and some black leggings, tying my hair because it was still wild from me not styling it the night before.

Carson had just watched me running around, his eyes amused as he pursed his lips and teased me every now and again about me not having to impress her. By the time she arrived, I’d all but bitten my nails down to the quick. I didn’t really care what she thought of me. I knew she’d never change her opinion of me, but I would hate it if she thought badly of my daughter because of me.

When the doorbell rang, I whimpered and looked at Carson. This time, he didn’t look nervous. He’d spoken to his mother a few more times since she initially found out and had explained everything more fully. Apparently, Jillian felt terrible for the way she jumped to conclusions about me and wanted to get to know me better before she made judgement. Carson seemed very confident I could win her over.

As he pushed himself off the sofa, he bent over and kissed my cheek. “Deep breath, it’ll all be fine,” he whispered. I closed my eyes and nodded, praying he was right.

He disappeared into the hallway to answer the door, so I looked down at Sasha, trying to calm myself as I watched her play with her Elmo toy. When Carson walked into the room, flanked by Jillian, I bit my lip and waited.

But I needn’t have worried. Of course, Sasha won over her nan with no problems. One little look at her baby-blues and Jillian was a goner. As she’d stepped over the threshold of the room, she’d burst into tears because apparently Sasha reminded her so much of Carson when he was a baby, though she couldn’t get over her curly locks.

For the next hour, Jillian sat on the floor, playing with Sasha’s dolls and braiding her granddaughter’s hair while they sang nursery rhymes. It was nice to watch.

“So, when’s the next race, Carson? It’s next weekend, am I right?” Jillian asked.

Carson nodded. “Yep, Silverstone on Sunday. Emma’s coming,” he replied, smiling down at me as he rested his hand on my thigh. The heat from his hand was almost too distracting for me to think of anything else, but I tried my best to keep up with the conversation – well, parts of it anyway. Other parts, I was off in fantasy Carson-land where we had far fewer clothes on…

“Oh, that’ll be nice. Have you ever been to a race before, Emma?” Jillian inquired.

I shook my head. “No, never been to anything like it.”

She grinned. “Oh, you’ll love it. You get to watch the whole thing from up in the family and friends lounge; you get such a fantastic view of it all.”

I forced a smile. I didn’t really want to explain that I didn’t like to watch Carson race and I’d never made it through a full one before. But, I’d give it a go because Carson seemed extremely happy that I was going to watch.

As I sat there, pressed against Carson’s side and watching his mother play with my daughter, I suddenly felt like everything was slotting into place again. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I first envisioned. Perhaps being forced to marry someone who didn’t love me wasn’t going to destroy my soul like I’d first thought.