Read Online Don't Want To Miss A Thing by Jill Mansell - Free Book Online

rubbed his eyes, which were prickling now with the effort of keeping them open; last night’s sleeplessness and the combination of drinks was catching up with him now.
    ‘Do you love her?’ said Molly.
    ‘Delphi? Of course I love her, but that’s beside the point. I’m selfish, don’t you see? She deserves better than to be stuck with someone like me. God, I’ve had to buy three new phones since Christmas – if I tried to take her anywhere I’d end up leaving her in the back of a cab.’
    ‘You say that now.’ Molly’s voice softened. ‘But she’s a human being. It’s different. You only lose car keys and phones because they aren’t the most important things in the world. You don’t love them with all your heart. Everyone panics when they first discover they’re about to become a parent. It’s completely normal to be terrified at the thought of being responsible for an actual baby. But that’s the whole point of loving them unconditionally – it means you’ll do everything it takes to keep them safe.’
    ‘Do you really think that?’
    ‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘It’s human nature. Look, if you don’twant to bring up this baby, fine. If you do want to but you’re just scared you aren’t able to do it . . . well, I wouldn’t worry about that. Because there’s no reason at all why you can’t.’
    Wow, where had that little speech come from? And should she even be having this much faith in someone she barely knew? What if he took her at her word and did accidentally leave the baby on the back seat of a taxi?
    Then again, was Dexter even listening to her anyway? He was currently peering into his glass and frowning.
    ‘This is empty. Can I have some more?’
    So much for the impassioned pep-talk .
    ‘No problem. I’m just going to make myself a coffee. Wait there,’ said Molly, getting up. ‘I’ll be back in a sec.’
    In the kitchen, she put the kettle on and waited for it to come to the boil. She didn’t bother making any coffee. After a few minutes she returned to the living room. Yes, he’d fallen asleep.
    What a situation to find yourself in. You couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Having cleared away the glasses, Molly stood and watched him for a while. His breathing was deep and even. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and with his head tilted back against the cushions, the curve of his visible cheekbone gleamed in the dim light. His dark hair had dried now. He looked beautiful but troubled, which he undoubtedly was.
    He was also a virtual stranger, but this didn’t worry her at all. She had a lock on her door and he wasn’t likely to make off with her telly. It was safe to leave him here for tonight.
    Molly spread his jacket over the radiator. Because there was only room for the one, she took her own Barbour upstairs, put it in the airing cupboard to dry out and brought the emergency duvet back down.
    Dexter didn’t move when she placed it over him. He’d be out for the count now, for the rest of the night.
    Well, what a Monday evening this had been. Leaving two paracetamols next to a pint glass of water on the coffee table, Molly headed up to bed. After rum and sherry and burnt paint-stripper liqueur he was going to need them when he woke up.
    When she came down the next morning he was gone. So were the paracetamols. The duvet, an oversized 10-tog version of Cinderella’s glass slipper, had been left in a crumpled heap on the otherwise empty sofa. No note, no other sign that he’d been here.
    Molly opened the front door and shivered as icy rain splattered her face. Urgh, February. And her Barbour was still upstairs. She ran barefoot down the path, saw that the lurid yellow Porsche was no longer parked outside Gin Cottage and raced inside again. Did this mean he’d gone out to buy food? Or that he was on his way up to London? In which case, she might never find out what he chose to do about Delphi.
    Poor Dex, what a terrible situation to be in. Surely between them