Free The Redhead Revealed (2) by Alice Clayton

He always said that was one of the reasons he fell in love with my mum—her cooking. She used to make this shepherd’s pie. Oh, it was the best, she would—” he started, then stopped, looking sad all of a sudden. I took his hands again and wrapped him more firmly around my waist.
    “You were sixteen, right? Sixteen when she passed away?” I asked quietly. He nodded.
    “I bet she’d be proud of you right now. Look at everything you’ve accomplished at such a young age!” I said, scratching his scalp the way I knew he liked. He leaned into my hand, but was still quiet. We soaked up the fresh air and the sounds of the city.
    “Grace, how come you never talk about your parents?” he asked, breaking me out of my spell.
    “My what? My parents?”
    “Yes, you never mention them. Come to think of it, I don’t think you’ve ever said a word about them. Where are they?” he asked, still leaning into my hand, which had stilled.
    “My mom died when I was a freshman in college—boating accident. It happened fast. I didn’t even make it home from school before she was gone. She was only forty-one,” I answered, closing my eyes and remembering how she used to make me scrambled eggs and toast every morning, without fail. All these years and her breakfasts were still the first thing that came to mind when I thought about her. That and her perfume.
    “Grace, I’m so sorry,” he said, clutching me closer.
    “I’m sorry too—for you. What a pair we are.” I laughed hollowly.
    “And your dad? How did he take it?”
    “You’d have to ask him, if you can find him. I haven’t spoken to him since I was in third grade. He left my mom and me high and dry. Never looked back—no letters, no phone calls, nothing,” I said, my voice empty. My skin prickled a bit. I never talked about this stuff. It made me uncomfortable, and I didn’t do uncomfortable.
    “He just left?”
    “Yes, he just left. Can we talk about something else? My dad was a deadbeat. No need to discuss,” I said, just as the soccer ball came our way again. This time I rose and kicked it back, my foot connecting angrily and sailing it over the lot of them. A few of them cheered my kicking ability, and I curtsied. I sat down next to him on the bench again, and we continued to watch.
    “Cute kids,” he said, watching them play.
    “Yes, cute,” I replied, watching them as well.
    “Do you want kids, Grace?” he asked, turning to look at me.
    “What, right now? Today?” I teased, standing up and depositing myself on his lap. He made room for me, tucking me in with his arms around me and his chin on my shoulder.
    “Obviously not today, Crazy. Although later on today I’ll be glad to demonstrate how babies are made.” He laughed, cuddling me to him. “But really, do you want kids someday?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, I think if I wanted them, I’d have thought more seriously about it by now,” I said. “What about you? I mean, not now, but do you want kids someday?” I asked, shuffling around a bit so I was looking down at him.
    “Hmm, I don’t think so either. I don’t particularly care for children—at least not in the sense that I want any of my own,” he said, kissing my fingertips, each one in turn, lavishing attention on my pinkies in particular.
    “You might change your mind as you get older,” I said.
    “Don’t you think you might change your mind?” he asked, still kissing my fingers.
    “Eh, I don’t have all the years in front of me like you do. My choices are a little more finite. Maybe I will, but I doubt it,” I answered, sighing happily as he placed a kiss on my palm. I laughed a little, and he looked at me curiously.
    “What’s funny, love?”
    “It’s funny that you’re dating a woman in her thirties, and you managed to find the one who doesn’t seem to have a biological clock—at least not one that’s ticking,” I said, planting a kiss on top of his head and pulling him to his