The Hero (Sons of Texas #1)

The guilt hugs me tighter than Luke. ‘It’s okay. The meeting went on far longer than usual. I had totally forgotten about it. I’ll be glad when I don’t have to go any more.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up, Babe. As long as there’s one of us to put her to bed, she doesn’t mind.’ I put my case down under the coat rack and slip off my jacket. Luke takes it from me and hangs it on the hook. ‘I seriously don’t think she’s going to need counselling as a result of it.’

I smile at his attempt to relieve my guilt. ‘Hannah okay?’

‘Yeah, she’s in the kitchen with your mum and Alice. Look, I was going to get on with some work. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘No. Fill your boots, but do try to come to bed at some point tonight. It’s an awful big bed for one.’

Luke cups my face in his hands. ‘Try stopping me.’ He kisses me and then, leaving me with a smile, wanders off down the hallway. I hear him stop by the kitchen and say goodnight to Hannah before heading off to his studio. I kick off my shoes and, after giving my mobile one final check for any messages or emails, I switch it off, leaving work firmly behind me. I hear more laughter from Hannah in the kitchen. She has such an infectious laugh. I smile to myself and go down to join the fun.

As I enter the kitchen, I can feel the corners of my mouth sag slightly as the smile I had reserved for Hannah disappears. Hannah is sitting at the breakfast bar, her back to me, with Alice sitting next to her, their heads dipped towards each. They giggle at something I haven’t heard.

‘Hiya,’ I say brightly from the doorway. Neither appear to hear me, their heads remaining bowed, looking at something in Hannah’s lap. I spy an array of nail varnishes on the worktop and the smell of acetone hits the back of my throat. Alice looks up as I walk further into the kitchen.

‘Hi, Clare. How are you? Good day?’

Hannah turns to look over her shoulder. ‘Alice is doing my nails,’ she says; her face lights up with excitement for a brief moment and then disappears, to be replaced by one of apprehension. ‘I wanted my nails to look pretty, like Alice’s.’

‘You know how I feel about make-up and nail varnish,’ I say, not being able to stop the words from coming out, yet at the same time wanting to kick myself for being such a spoil sport. ‘You have school tomorrow. You won’t be able to keep it on.’

‘Oh, Clare, it’s just a bit of nail polish,’ says Alice, with a touch of amusement to her voice, in the way you’d tell a child that there were no monsters under the bed.

‘It’s the school policy,’ I say. God, when did I turn into the fucking head teacher? ‘Hannah, you know that.’ I’m aware that I am taking out my annoyance on Hannah, when really I’m angry at Alice. And I know the anger is unjustified. How would Alice know what the school policy was?

Hannah slips her hand away from Alice dejectedly. I look at Alice. ‘Have you got some nail-varnish remover? Only, I don’t have any – I don’t wear the stuff.’

‘Yeah, sure. It’s right here.’ Alice picks up a plastic bottle I hadn’t noticed. ‘What about if I get up early and take it off for Hannah in the morning? It’s such a shame and it’s totally my fault. One hundred per cent my fault. I honestly did not realise. Sorry, Clare.’ She bites the side of her lip. Hannah looks up from under her lashes, not quite able to meet my gaze head on. I feel a sudden pang of guilt and shame. What harm is it for one night? Hannah should have known better, but the excitement of getting her nails done obviously won out. Christ, she’s only seven. I’m the one who should know better.

I smile and go over to Hannah and give her a hug. ‘I’m sorry for getting cross,’ I say. ‘You can keep it on for the night. Either Alice or I will take it off in the morning before you go to school.’ I kiss her and instantly am rewarded with a huge smile.

‘Sorry, again,’ says Alice.

It’s at this point I notice what Alice is wearing. It’s a pink T-shirt with the words New York in white letters across the chest. I do a double-take. ‘I have a T-shirt just like that,’ I say. ‘That is such a coincidence.’

I hear a laugh behind me and it’s Mum, who must have just come into the kitchen and caught the end of our conversation. Alice laughs and exchanges a knowing smile with Mum, ‘Shall I tell her or do you want to?’

‘Tell me what?’ I look at Mum.

‘Oh, Clare, you are funny,’ says Mum. ‘That T-shirt looks like yours because it is yours.’ Mum, Alice and Hannah all laugh together.

‘Oh,’ is all I can manage to say, finding it hard to join in with the joke. Alice probably thinks I’m a proper misery. First I get all uptight over nail varnish and now I’m failing the see the funny side of T-shirt-gate.