Mills and Boon Christmas Joy Collection. Liz Fielding

it.

      He didn’t know which had been worse. Watching his mother trying to hide her pain for years after his brother had died, or going through Laura’s pain after her miscarriage. If he’d stuck to his guns and had said it was adoption or nothing, would she have told him to go? Or would they be happy now with a healthy baby, a healthy past, present and, hopefully, future?

      “So…what do you think?” she asked.

      He opened his mouth to shut down the conversation once and for all, but then he saw the hope swimming in her eyes and the steam went out of his argument. He held his breath, considered the options.

      There weren’t any.

      “I think…”

      Her lips curved up. “Yes?”

      “I think we need to think about it more,” he ended.

      Her smile wavered and her eyes dulled over, but then the disappointment faded from her expression, replaced by the inherent optimism he’d always loved.

      She pointed her white-sandaled toes out and flipped them prettily in the air. “The Nutcracker’s playing in town,” she said, changing the subject. “Tonight would be sold out but I wonder if we could get tickets for tomorrow.” The ballet?

      The last time they’d gone they’d had an argument. One of his more notable clients and his wife had witnessed the scene. Bishop wasn’t a fan of tutus and tights at the best of times. After that night he’d sworn never to sit through another Fouetté en tournant as long as he lived.

      Sensing his reluctance, Laura let her toes drift down. “I know ballet’s not your thing…”

      “No, it’s not. But it is yours,” he added.

      Going to Sydney tomorrow evening would leave them with another twenty-four hours in this environment. If a few lightbulbs went off…if he were lucky… Hell, they might not get to the ballet at all.