In the Royal's Bed: Wanted: Royal Wife and Mother

Matty was already gazing round the room, looking for materials.

‘Can I use that?’ he asked, pointing to some plywood.

‘Go right ahead. Here’s a hacksaw and here’s some craft glue. Kelly, are you going to watch?’

But Kelly was gazing at the little mechanism with longing. It looked awesome.

‘Can I make a bus?’ she asked and he grinned at the wistfulness in her voice. He loved it when he caught a kid’s attention, even if that kid was twenty-nine years old.

‘Any special reason why you’d like to make a bus?’

‘It’s just that rolling action. I had to spend hours on a school bus when I was a kid and the thing bucketed just like your plank. I reckon I could make a bus to sit on it and…’

‘Go right ahead,’ he said and beamed and she was sucked in, hook, line and sinker.

What followed was peace.

It was probably the first time Rafael had felt at peace since he’d heard of Kass’s death.

He’d always found solace in his work—it had always been an escape for him—but for the past few weeks he hadn’t been able to disappear. Even when he was alone, when the demands of his new role weren’t pounding on his door, his conscience was doing its own pounding. So was his worry for the future—for the fact that he had no choice in the role he was expected to play. He worked with his hands down here but even as he worked his thoughts wriggled and twisted and tried to find an escape.

But just here…just for now…there was no need to escape. He had no wish to escape. This was great.

Kelly and Matty were totally entranced. They had the material they needed. They sat on high stools at his biggest work bench, their heads bent over their projects, deep in concentration.

He’d hardly seen the similarity between mother and son, but he saw it now. The way their brows creased together, puckering into a tiny line just above their noses. The way they focused absolutely. When they picked up the hacksaws and made their first tentative notch, then paused and held the plywood out to make sure they were doing the right thing, their actions were identical.

They looked…

Like mother and son.

More. They looked endearing. Enchanting. He was giving them both pleasure and the thought was enough to settle a deep, aching pain in his gut that had been there…maybe ever since his father had died.

A measure of the success of Robo-Craft was that it pulled people in regardless. If you could put a plain, unadorned plank on this tiny mechanism and watch it transform into something that suggested an old school bus or a spaceship—anything—and if you could see that very easily you could make such a thing and watch it work…

‘Yeah, it’s brilliant,’ Kelly said, smiling, and he grinned at her across the table.