Darn, she must be more exhausted than she thought, Erin decided. She really was very close to tears, and his kindness was almost her undoing.

‘I’ve also brought my very favourite story book from when I was seven,’ he told her, motioning to a book tucked under his arm. ‘It’s all about fire engines. So I propose that you go and clean up while I read to the boys.’

‘Your throat…’

‘Hurts,’ he finished for her. ‘Well guessed. I’d imagine yours does, too. Luckily my book’s mostly pictures so the boys and I just have to look. So scoot.’ He smiled down at the two nervous little boys in their shared bed, and his smile was encompassing and kind. ‘Is that okay with you guys?’ he asked them. ‘It seems a bit unfair that we’re clean and Erin’s not.’

The boys considered in silence-and then slowly nodded in unison.

‘Great.’ Matt’s smile widened and he sank down onto the bed beside Erin. It was sort of crowded down there-four on the bed-but it was familiar and very, very comforting after the fear of the last hours. ‘I don’t know about you,’ he told Erin softly, ‘but I’m pooped and the sooner we get this lot asleep the sooner we can get to bed ourselves.’

Absolutely.

He was perfectly right.

So why did his words bring a blush to her face as she rose and headed gratefully to the bathroom?

And those tears were definitely still threatening.

By the time she’d showered, the twins were solidly, absolutely asleep. Wrapped in one of Louise’s vast towels, Erin checked them from all angles and decided it’d take another bomb to wake them, and even then it wasn’t a sure thing.

She didn’t blame them. She was exhausted herself, but Matt was nowhere to be seen.

He’d meet her in the kitchen, he’d said, but she couldn’t go and find him wrapped only in a towel. Her own clothes were disgusting, so she hauled on an enormous dressing gown she found in the donations pile and made her way through the house to find him.