Nine
After twenty years of being a divorced bachelor, Malcolm was being forced out of his routine and comfort zone. It was his own damned fault. Charlotte had been more than willing for Gavin to stay with her. But he’d felt like the boy would be safer with him, should his father come looking. Not to mention, Charlotte. And a part of him had wanted to show Gavin that not all men were like Simon. Not that he’d had dealings with the other man in more than fifteen years, but he’d been a right shite before. Malcolm couldn’t imagine he’d improved with age and single parenthood.
That the kid had agreed to the arrangement spoke of some measure of trust. Not a lot. Not yet. He was still scared that the rug would get yanked out from under him and he’d be out on his arse, so he hadn’t stepped a toe
