laughed. “Everything’s still here.”
“Good. Your dad’s pretty obsessed with his phone. I wouldn’t want to take the blame if someone did nick it.”
“You know a lot about him,” she asserted. Abigail kept her eyes closed. “Did you know each other?”
“Not really. Just praises from your granny at church.”
“Would you want to go out with him? My dad?”
She opened her eyes and sat up. “Why ask?”
“I dunno. I mean, you’re on holiday with us. And I know he likes you. He said you’re pretty.”
No one can see you blush , she told herself, even as Liam’s words the night before rained in delicious repeat over her body. You’re so fucking beautiful... “Why are you selling your father, like he’s on the shelf in Tescos?”
Leila giggled. “I’m not. Don’t you like him too? You look at each other like you do.”
Erm... “That’s adult Jedi mind talk. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”
“He said the same thing! I’m just saying,” She interrupted, “I don’t mind. Only because I know where you work and I can throw heavier things than eggs.”
Abigail lay back down again, almost reassured by the girl’s words. “You know that’s conspiracy to criminal damage, by admitting that to me, right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the girl claimed. Abigail made a moue with her mouth. As long as that made Leila feel better, what was a threat between friends?
Chapter Fourteen
The fire on the beach was blazing now. Abigail was handing over the marshmallows to Leila sporadically, and his daughter skewered them to hold over the flames.
He’d set up the wireless speaker and to Leila’s endless disapproval, old-school drum and bass played in the background. “Wait,” Abigail assured her. “A couple more years and you’ll be sneaking into clubs to listen to sweet tunes like these.”
“Why are you corrupting my child?”
“Thought I might get in early,” Abigail teased. “Complete the job you’re so clearly going to do.”
“Hey,” Leila protested. “I am here.”
“Corrupted!” Abigail sing-songed. “What’s going on with the music?”
He reached for his phone and connected another playlist. Closing the app, he noted that the number of emails awaiting his attention had leapt from thirty-eight to thirty-nine.
Probably more to do with work. Nothing that couldn’t wait until he got back home, but concern made him look. The email was from DNA National.
His gaze instantly went to Leila. She was oblivious, instead taken by trying to convince Abigail that they were listening to noise and not music. He opened the email and scanned it. Pages of legal information assaulted his eyes until he realised there was an attachment. Opening the PDF, he searched for what he wanted to see. Tears blurred his eyes and he clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Dad?” Leila asked. “What’s wrong?”
He couldn’t speak, his voice too choked by emotion. Abigail came to kneel next to him, her hand on his shoulder. “Liam, what’s happened?”
“Leila, come here,” he insisted, putting the phone into Abigail’s hands. “Do you know why you’re going to love this music? Because you’re my daughter.”
She blinked. “Well, that doesn’t mean I’m going to...” It took her a moment to connect what he was saying, and it was only after Abigail burst out, “Oh thank God!” that Leila launched herself into his arms.
“Are you lying?” she wept, her words almost incomprehensible.
Abigail gently rubbed her arm. “Look.”
“I don’t understand what this even means!” she wailed.
“This here means they are 99.99 percent certain that you are my biological child. They’re posting the hard copy to us but if I tell you you’re grounded, you can yell at me that you hate me but I’m your dad.”
She curled against him, squeezing him tighter. He caught Abigail by the hand and pulled her into the circle of the embrace. “Why would Mum do this?”
“Good. Your dad’s pretty obsessed with his phone. I wouldn’t want to take the blame if someone did nick it.”
“You know a lot about him,” she asserted. Abigail kept her eyes closed. “Did you know each other?”
“Not really. Just praises from your granny at church.”
“Would you want to go out with him? My dad?”
She opened her eyes and sat up. “Why ask?”
“I dunno. I mean, you’re on holiday with us. And I know he likes you. He said you’re pretty.”
No one can see you blush , she told herself, even as Liam’s words the night before rained in delicious repeat over her body. You’re so fucking beautiful... “Why are you selling your father, like he’s on the shelf in Tescos?”
Leila giggled. “I’m not. Don’t you like him too? You look at each other like you do.”
Erm... “That’s adult Jedi mind talk. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”
“He said the same thing! I’m just saying,” She interrupted, “I don’t mind. Only because I know where you work and I can throw heavier things than eggs.”
Abigail lay back down again, almost reassured by the girl’s words. “You know that’s conspiracy to criminal damage, by admitting that to me, right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the girl claimed. Abigail made a moue with her mouth. As long as that made Leila feel better, what was a threat between friends?
Chapter Fourteen
The fire on the beach was blazing now. Abigail was handing over the marshmallows to Leila sporadically, and his daughter skewered them to hold over the flames.
He’d set up the wireless speaker and to Leila’s endless disapproval, old-school drum and bass played in the background. “Wait,” Abigail assured her. “A couple more years and you’ll be sneaking into clubs to listen to sweet tunes like these.”
“Why are you corrupting my child?”
“Thought I might get in early,” Abigail teased. “Complete the job you’re so clearly going to do.”
“Hey,” Leila protested. “I am here.”
“Corrupted!” Abigail sing-songed. “What’s going on with the music?”
He reached for his phone and connected another playlist. Closing the app, he noted that the number of emails awaiting his attention had leapt from thirty-eight to thirty-nine.
Probably more to do with work. Nothing that couldn’t wait until he got back home, but concern made him look. The email was from DNA National.
His gaze instantly went to Leila. She was oblivious, instead taken by trying to convince Abigail that they were listening to noise and not music. He opened the email and scanned it. Pages of legal information assaulted his eyes until he realised there was an attachment. Opening the PDF, he searched for what he wanted to see. Tears blurred his eyes and he clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Dad?” Leila asked. “What’s wrong?”
He couldn’t speak, his voice too choked by emotion. Abigail came to kneel next to him, her hand on his shoulder. “Liam, what’s happened?”
“Leila, come here,” he insisted, putting the phone into Abigail’s hands. “Do you know why you’re going to love this music? Because you’re my daughter.”
She blinked. “Well, that doesn’t mean I’m going to...” It took her a moment to connect what he was saying, and it was only after Abigail burst out, “Oh thank God!” that Leila launched herself into his arms.
“Are you lying?” she wept, her words almost incomprehensible.
Abigail gently rubbed her arm. “Look.”
“I don’t understand what this even means!” she wailed.
“This here means they are 99.99 percent certain that you are my biological child. They’re posting the hard copy to us but if I tell you you’re grounded, you can yell at me that you hate me but I’m your dad.”
She curled against him, squeezing him tighter. He caught Abigail by the hand and pulled her into the circle of the embrace. “Why would Mum do this?”
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