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scribbled something onto the notes and dropped them in a tray ready to be collected. ‘A life.’

      A life that didn’t include him. ‘And you’re one of those friends?’

      ‘Of course. I’ve known her as long as you have. She was my friend, as well as yours. She made Christmas for us that year you and Carly had your own mini-meltdowns.’ He looked at Daniel, a warning in his gaze. ‘I’ll never forget how she picked herself up and got on with things. Her heart was breaking but she still managed to dance around the house wearing antlers to make my son laugh.’

      ‘She was always good with children. That was our problem. All Stella ever wanted was children.’ And children were the last thing he wanted. Daniel stared at the row of photographs of his niece and nephew that Patrick had hung on the wall. Alfie and Posy giggling on a sledge. The two of them covered in ice cream at the beach. Posy in a backpack, grabbing Patrick’s hair. ‘Those two human beings are totally reliant on you. If you screw up, they suffer.’

      ‘Thanks for that vote of confidence.’

      ‘Doesn’t it terrify you?’

      ‘No. I love them. And I don’t intend to screw up.’ Patrick toyed with the pencil. ‘It doesn’t have to be the way it was for us, Dan.’

      It was something they rarely mentioned and Daniel felt the filthy sludge of the past slide into his brain. ‘Christmas was the worst time, do you remember?’

      The pencil in Patrick’s lean fingers snapped in two. ‘Yes.’

      ‘I counted the days until it was over.’

      ‘I counted them with you.’ His brother’s casual tone didn’t

      fool him and suddenly Daniel wanted to know.

      ‘So how have you managed to put it behind you? With that grim example of parenting shining in your head, how do you do it?’

      ‘I love my children.’ A faint smile touched his brother’s mouth. ‘And I suppose I treat our childhood as an education in how not to parent. As long as I’m doing everything opposite, then I’m pretty confident that it will turn out all right.’

      ‘You’re divorced.’

      ‘Precisely. If Mum and Dad had divorced, they might have been happy.’ Patrick threw the broken bits of pencil into the bin. ‘I don’t subscribe to the school of thought that says a miserably unhappy couple have to stay together for the sake of the children. Why are we talking about this? What does this have to do with Stella?’

      ‘I’m reminding you why I don’t want marriage.’

      ‘I don’t need reminding.’

      ‘I did her a favour.’

      ‘You truly believe that, don’t you?’ Patrick gave a humourless laugh. ‘Dan, you proposed to her and then broke her heart. What I don’t understand is why you asked her to marry you in the first place, given your serious allergy to that condition.’

      Daniel ran his hand over the back of his neck, remembering that night. ‘It was Christmas. I was crazy about her. It was what she wanted.’

      ‘But not what you wanted.’

      ‘For a brief moment I thought I did,’ Daniel confessed in a raw tone. ‘I thought maybe, just maybe, I could do it, but when your Carly—’ Breaking off, Daniel threw his brother a glance of apology but Patrick shrugged.

      ‘Don’t mince your words. When Carly walked out on me, it reminded you that relationships are difficult, fragile things.’

      ‘And Alfie cried himself to sleep at night for months!’ Daniel’s eyes slid to the photographs on the wall. ‘I never want to do that to a child.’

      Patrick eyed the stack of work on his desk. ‘Could we talk about this in my kitchen over a beer later? Or was there something else you wanted to say?’

      Daniel tried to clear his head. ‘You should have told me that she was coming back.’

      ‘I didn’t think you’d be interested. You’re dating that sleek, sexy solicitor, remember? You’ve moved on.’ Patrick closed the file he’d been reading and placed it in a tray at the front of his desk ready to be collected.

      Glaring at his brother, Daniel wondered how it was possible to love a person and hate them at the same time. ‘Well, how long is she back for? Where is she living?’

      ‘As far as I know, she’s back for good.’ Patrick leaned back in his chair and looked his brother in the eye. ‘And she’s living with me.’

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