Page 107 of Bargaining

My usual misgivings clamored to the surface.You’re too late. I’ve coped on my own for years. I don’t need help.But the weariness inside wouldn’t let me say them out loud. Because the truth was louder.I do need help. This is too much. I don’t want to be alone anymore.If he wanted to help, then who was I to stop him? It didn’t mean I had to jump into bed with him again. I wouldn’t. Not now. He’d let me down too many times. It was different back home. Being in Ecclesdale kept the past at the forefront of my mind.

I folded my arms. “I still want a divorce. You can help if you want, but I’m serious about that.”

“I understand. I still want to help. Please. Let me do this.”

I toed his work boot. “Who designed your outfit? Valentino? Those must be the cleanest overalls I’ve ever seen.”

His eyes sparkled with humor. “Are you going to invite me in or not? I’m on the clock. My boss won’t be happy with all this slacking.”

“I’m sure he won’t. I’ve heard he’s difficult.” I opened my front door and gestured for him to come inside. “You don’t know how to deal with mold, do you?”

“As it happens, I do. You can’t just paint over it. You have to strip the room back. Find the source of the damp. Tackle that first.” He offered a faint smile. “It’s going to take a lot of hard work, but I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”

Chapter 49

Charlotte

Cole followed me into the kitchen. Sunlight streaked my half-finished mural on the wall. I’d filled the lounge with Hadrian’s Villa and this room was going to be a sunset over the rooftops of Rome.

Cole stood completely still, awe rippling over his expression. “This is incredible.”

My face felt warm, but I shrugged. “I thought I may as well. It’s going to get painted over, anyway.”

“No. Seriously, I mean it. It’s amazing.” He traced a finger lightly over the brushstrokes. His voice was soft. “You brought Rome to Ecclesdale.”

“I’m thinking of doing some frescoes in the hallway. I just need plaster.”

He nodded as though it wasn’t an absurd suggestion. “Then we’ll get you plaster.”

The air was thick with the smell of paint. Heat crept up my neck as I caught a glimpse of myself in the kitchen window. Paint caked my overalls and streaked my face and hair. What must he have thought? Not that it mattered. I hadn’t invited him here.He’d just turned up on my doorstep. He seemed to be making a habit of that.

Cole smiled in invitation and lifted his mop. “Are you going to put me to work?”

He couldn’t be serious, could he? What did it matter to me? He’d probably get bored after a couple of hours and give up. I passed him a bucket and a bottle of disinfectant. “The cupboards need to be emptied and scrubbed inside. How have you got time for this? Don’t you have a huge empire to run?”

He took the equipment from me. “I’m taking a sabbatical.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as it takes to get this house in order.”

“You can cope with missing work?”

His eyes locked with mine. “I can cope. You just carry on painting. Let me handle everything else.”

“You don’t have to do this. You’ve got better things to do.”

He moved to the sink and filled the bucket with soapy water. “This is the only place I want to be. I cared about Roy, too. If I can help, then I want to.” He transferred the bucket to the floor and knelt down by one of the cupboards. “I’ll make a start. We’ll get it done.”

“You really don’t have to.”

He smiled, small and genuine. “I know. I want to. Let me help you, Charlotte. That’s all I want to do.”

“Thank you.” I met his eyes for the first time since he’d turned up on the drive. “I appreciate the help.”

I took the last of the bubble-wrapped heavy octagonal plates and put them in the box destined for the charity shop. We’d nevereven eaten from these. Dad had kept all the fancy stuff on the top shelves, and we’d forgotten about it.

“Christmas stuff?” Cole presented a faded tin full of Christmas-tree-shaped cookie cutters and little snowman cake toppers.