of my brain. Her diagnosis, our tears, our denials. Clinic visits. Chemotherapy. Radiotherapy. The way she cried in my arms as the so-called love of her life bailed on her following her diagnosis, but not before he’d emptied the little she had in her bank account. The last in a line of men who promised her the earth and delivered nothing but dirt.
The death of a parent is the natural order of things, so they say. But no kid needs to see their mother wasting away.
‘I’m sorry.’ His words are delivered with a softness that contradicts his firm expression. ‘I don’t mean to be unfeeling, but this is important.’
‘I don’t see how. I also don’t understand why I’m here.’
‘That makes two of us,’ he murmurs, turning away and jotting something down.
I can’t have heard that right, can I?
‘What are you doing?’ I try to get a glimpse of the notes he’s jotting down when he suddenly flicks the folder closed.
‘What I’m doing is thinking.’ He drops the pen to the desk, his head suddenly bowed. His hands grasp the edge of his desk, his knuckles so pronounced I wouldn’t be surprised to see the glossy wood snap.
‘It looked like you were doodling to me,’ I find myself babbling. ‘Are you one of those people who draws little hearts and stars in margins while you’re thinking?’ I know I am, though I’m more a flower-doodling girl. ‘Or maybe you’re nervous about something?’
‘No,’ he answers, laughter lightening his voice. ‘Why, should I be?’
And oh, my God, for the first time since I walked into his office, I get a glimpse of the man I found on my doorstep that night. A flash of white teeth. The playful grin.
‘What I am,’ he says as he begins to loosen his shirt at the cuff, ‘is relieved.’ A silver cuff link drops to the desktop, and he begins to fold the brilliant white fabric back. I feel like I’m watching something intimate; something that should only be available by pay per view.
‘Is that supposed to be reassuring?’ My voice lacks conviction and strength, and I’m not sure if I mean his verbal statement or the shirt folding one, or even the way he’s looking at me like I already belong to him. My gaze falls to the watch on his wrist; the same one he wore that night. The weathered leather strap, the masculine face. It’s at odds with the rest of his appearance, yet it’s somehow completely him.
‘Oh, sh—sugar!’ I find myself grabbing his forearm in both of my hands, holding it between us. ‘I’ve got to go.’
Before I can pull away, he captures my hand, his fingers looping around my wrist to draw me closer to him. ‘We are not done.’
‘Aren’t we?’ I pull against his hold. ‘I’ll miss the staff bus if I don’t get there in five minutes.’ And it’ll probably take me all of those five minutes to find my way out of this labyrinth of a building. Shit! Fee said the staff drivers are ruthless when it comes to the timetabled pickup times.
‘The bus?’ he replies, his brow creasing.
‘Four wheels? Takes multiple passengers, usually for a small charge? Maybe you know it better as the peasant wagon?’
‘I’m aware of what a bus is,’ he replies silkily, resisting my attempted tug. But as his thumb feathers the underside of my wrist, I find I’m not struggling anymore. How can such a small touch feel so calming, so intimate? ‘Your heart is beating so fast.’ His eyes rise from where we join, his expression almost provocative. ‘Why is that, do you think?’
‘Because I’m anxious I’m about to miss my bus.’
‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘You know, I have no idea how I came to get this job, but I’m pretty certain you’re going to explain it to me sometime.’
‘Is that a fact?’
‘Yes, it is. But for now, I have a bus to catch. A bus I can’t afford to miss. For one thing, I’m not even sure exactly where I live.’
‘I’m sure I can help find you a place to stay.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so.’ I find myself chuckling at the man’s audacity.
‘I could make a call. Find out where you live.’
‘Knowing where I live isn’t going to get me there.’ Though I’m no longer trying to tug away my hand, a tiny breath catches in my throat as he lifts it to his lips, pressing them to the back of my hand. It’s not a sweet gesture, not by any stretch