had a planner, I would have been able to cram more into my life.”
“Is that the goal?” He looked bemused. “To cram more in? Is this about work? I thought you loved creating a home. You said you wanted the kids to grow up in a different environment than you.”
“I did. I do.” So why, suddenly, was she questioning it all? Why did she feel lost and—irrelevant? If Catherine had managed to reinvent her life, why couldn’t she?
“If you love it, then it can’t be wrong.”
“You just don’t get it.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t.” He sounded exasperated. “Why do you need to impress her anyway?”
“Only a man would ask that question.”
“At least wait until you’ve met her to start making judgments. You might like her.”
But would Catherine like her?
“Could you leave the room?”
“Why?”
“Because I’d like to get dressed now.”
“I’ve seen you without clothes before.”
“Not for a very long time.”
“Well, you don’t appear to have changed significantly.”
“What’s changed is that we’re not together anymore.” She knew it was ridiculous for it to feel awkward, but it did. A part of her had pulled away. For protection. Clothes were protection, which made it all the more unfortunate that she didn’t currently appear to own any.
He shook his head, muttered something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch but was sure wasn’t flattering, then left the room.
Maggie waited until she heard him clattering around in the kitchen and slid gingerly from the bed. She took the stairs carefully, holding tightly to the curved wooden rail that appeared to have been carved from the branch of a tree. If she’d trusted her legs not to give way under her, she might have taken the time to admire it.
She stepped into the bathroom, purring as the under-floor heating warmed her bare feet. So much better than Honeysuckle Cottage where a nighttime trip to the bathroom came with a risk of frostbite.
There was a large tub and a walk-in steam shower enclosed in glass.
By the time she emerged ten minutes later, she was deeply regretting her outburst.
Wrapped in a soft white robe, she found Nick in the kitchen. “I don’t suppose I can wear this for the rest of our stay?”
“It might raise eyebrows. On the other hand I’ve always believed in the importance of expressing one’s individuality.” Nick was frying bacon and the sizzle and smell made her realize how hungry she was.
When had she last eaten? On the plane, presumably.
He tipped it onto a plate, added slices of toasted sourdough and scrambled eggs. “Eat.”
She sat on the stool at the kitchen counter and picked up a fork. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For the things I said. Ignore me.”
“I’m not going to do that, but the rest of the conversation will have to be postponed because Rosie texted to say she’s on her way.”
She’d already said more than she wanted to. She took a mouthful of food. “This bacon tastes so good.”
“Maple cured locally according to the packaging.”
She cleared her plate and realized he was looking at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m thinking you look twenty in that robe with wet hair.” He drank his coffee. “Where did the years go, Mags?” Was that a literal question? How was she supposed to answer?
“Don’t get sentimental. I can’t handle it with a hangover. Is there any more toast?” She hadn’t eaten carbs for three weeks and she was so hungry she was willing to eat anything that wasn’t nailed down.
He sliced the loaf. “Next time we’re on our own and not about to be disturbed, I also want to talk about what happened in the car yesterday—”
“We agreed we were going to pretend to be in love. Don’t panic, I wasn’t trying to seduce you.” Was it possible to seduce someone you’d been married to for three decades?
“I wasn’t talking about the flirting.” He put the toast in front of her, along with a slab of creamy butter and a pot of homemade plum jam. “I was talking about the fact that you don’t like your job.”
Maggie stuck the spoon in the jam. Had she said that? Her feelings about her job weren’t something she usually voiced aloud.
“You should know better than to believe the ranting of an inebriated woman.”
“That’s what I said to myself, until you said all those things this morning.”
“You shouldn’t believe the ranting of a woman with a hangover, either.”
He topped up his coffee. “So you don’t hate your job?”
She took a bite of toast. Chewed. “It’s fine.”
“That doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement. If