Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,37

chromosomes. They’d also told her it was usually a one-off event and that she would most likely go on to have a normal pregnancy. Dean had been relieved to hear that. He hadn’t carried the baby inside him, but he still felt, weirdly, as if he was grieving.

Noticing that she was standing on tiptoe, stretching to reach up to the top cupboards, he walked over to her. ‘You shouldn’t be doing that, Zoe,’ he said softly. ‘You need to rest up a bit. You’ve been through a lot.’

‘I’m fine,’ she assured him, carrying on regardless.

‘You’re not fine.’ Burying a sigh, he reached to still the hand she was wielding the cloth with. ‘The place is so clean we could eat our dinner off the floor. You don’t need to be doing this now.’

‘I’m not ill, Dean,’ she said, closing her eyes, her energy seeming to deplete as she dropped back to her feet.

‘I know.’ He wrapped an arm gently around her waist. ‘But you’re going to be all over the place emotionally, aren’t you? You need to look after yourself. Go out shopping and treat yourself to something nice, why don’t you? I could come with you if you like.’

Zoe glanced at him. ‘We wouldn’t have any food to eat off the floor if I did that,’ she reminded him with a wan smile.

Nodding awkwardly, Dean took a breath. ‘I’ve been putting a bit away. You know, for when …’ He trailed off, his throat tight. ‘Anyway, I have a few quid. You should splash out a bit. Buy a new outfit or get your hair done or something.’

She looked at him, bewildered, for a second, and then dropped her gaze and covered her face with her hands.

Realising she was crying, Dean’s heart lurched. Crap, he’d meant to cheer her up, not reduce her to tears. ‘Hey,’ he said, easing her towards him. ‘It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.’

She pressed her face hard into his shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry, Dean,’ she murmured.

‘For what?’ He tightened his arms around her. ‘Wetting my shirt?’

She laughed, a short, muffled sound. ‘I don’t deserve you.’

He held her closer. ‘I know. Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me.’

She laughed again. A laugh that turned into a sob that shook through her body. She was so petite and seemed so fragile right now that Dean felt he would die to protect her. He wished there were something he could have done to protect her from this. She’d been on her own when she needed him. He would always feel bad about that. Determined to get another job that would allow him to stay at home – he’d get some training if he had to – he held her while she cried, gently stroking her back, soothing her as best he could.

Eventually, when her sobs slowed, he eased the wild tangle of red hair he adored gently away from her ear. ‘I’ll run you a warm bath,’ he whispered, ‘with loads of bubbles, and then give you a nice shoulder massage afterwards. How does that sound?’

She looked up at him, her eyes still awash with tears and filled with heart-wrenching sadness. ‘Like heaven.’ She managed a tremulous smile. ‘Did anyone ever tell you you’re lovely?’

‘Frequently.’ Dean smiled, and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. Actually, no one had ever told him he was lovely, apart from Zoe. Not even his own mum. ‘Come on, let’s get that bath run.’ Giving her a squeeze, he steered her out of the kitchen, down the hall and towards the bedroom. ‘And when you’re ready, if you don’t fancy a bit of retail therapy, how about we take a stroll by the river and grab a pint and a bag of crisps?’

‘You spoil me.’ She gave him a fond squeeze back.

‘I know.’ He sighed theatrically. ‘It’s tough knowing you’re not after my body, but I can live with it.’

‘Twit,’ she giggled.

Leaving her to have a soak once the bath was run, Dean came out of the bathroom feeling marginally better than useless. At least he’d managed to cajole a smile out of her. He was pondering alternative jobs and what he might actually be any good at when the post plopped through the letter box. Assuming it was nothing but bills, he scooped it up and flicked idly through it as he went back to the kitchen. Noticing what looked like a greetings card addressed to both of them, he furrowed his brow, puzzled. An invitation, most likely. Hoping it wasn’t