Page 58 of Tears of Gold

“No. Don’t be facetious.”

“Oooh, such big words for a Saturday morning.” Chuckling, I grab his arm and pull him back up so he’s level with me once again. “You know I only understand small words.”

“Rubbish.” He lies down and links his hand behind his head, and I wiggle over and rest my head on his chest, listening for the reassuring thump of his heart beneath my ear.

“Appointment is at ten, we should get up,” I say with no intention of standing up. I’ve discovered the last few days that if I lay down, I’m kinda alright. The moment I’m up and moving, my stomach thinks it’s on a rollercoaster, which resulted in some rather embarrassing gagging in lectures yesterday. Then I had to leave the practical lesson because the stench of the chemicals was something close to the sulphur of hell.

“I’ll go and get you some biscuits.” He kisses the top of my head. “Just stay there until you have something inside your stomach.”

He may have been at court all week working insane hours, but I’ve made sure to share everything with him. After all, didn’t I promise him only a few weeks ago that I was all in? All in means he should know everything happening.

“It’s okay, I’ll get up anyway.” I push myself off his chest and sit, but my head instantly whirls and wheels like a kite caught in a gale.

Shaking his head, he slips off the bed. “Stay there.”

I don’t have a huge amount of choice. While he’s running down the stairs to the kitchen, I look at my phone and send Abi a quick message. This sucks.

Her response which is a very unhelpful laughing emoji pings straight back, followed by: Welcome to the club, sister.

I haven’t told her about today’s early scan. Firstly, because I don’t want her making a big deal about the fact that we are paying for an early scan in the first place. She’ll give me one of her I know best lectures which will contain the words, 'what will be, will be', blah blah blah. And secondly, I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet at all. No matter how committed I might have promised Eli I am. This is still very unreal. Talking about it will make it real and I’m not ready for that.

He’s on the phone as he walks back in the room and hands me my much-needed ginger biscuits. Good timing, too. I’m pretty damn close to spewing over the bedlinen.

“Work,” he mouths at me, and I nod, not really caring as I grab at a biscuit and break off a tiny amount and pop it into my mouth. Slow and steady, it’s the only bloody way.

I concentrate on eating and not hurling, but I can hear his voice raising from the dressing area. “I’ll be back once the jury has reached a decision. I’ve got to be there.” Frustration underlies his tone. “And anyway, this is Saturday, so this call is on my own time.” There is clearly a response which I’m not party to before he snaps, “Fine,” and then must hang up.

He comes back buttoning his jeans and sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Problem?” I ask.

“Just my managing partner wanting to know when I will be returning to corporate hell.”

I frown and try to read his face which is near on impossible; he’s mastered a poker face I can’t decipher. “I thought they were okay with you taking on the pro-bono cases?” When I met him, it was one of the things I learned that endeared me to him even more, the fact he worked for free on cases where people needed help. Obviously, the fact he is smoking hot was the first thing that endeared me to him. His generosity came a swift second.

“Sure, so long as it doesn’t impact their business, and one of our big clients who spends millions with us needs us urgently. I’ve got to go in on Monday before court.”

“Aren’t you on leave for this though? It’s holiday, right?”

He shrugs. “Not annual leave. I’ve just taken unpaid leave.” I open my mouth to say something, but he cuts me off. “It’s not like I can’t afford it.”

“I guess I never thought of it before that’s all.”

“That reminds me.” He sits down and hands me another quarter of a biscuit. They are working, my need to upchuck is diminishing although I’m not ready to attempt standing yet. “We need to discuss your allowance.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your allowance. You will get one from the family trust as my wife, but you’ll need something now, won’t you? If you give me your bank account details, I’ll get a payment set up. How much do you need? Will three thousand a month be acceptable?”

I manage to shut my mouth. “Eli, I don’t want your money.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t. I don’t want anything to do with the Fairclough money.”

“It’s not Fairclough money, it’s mine.” He frowns. “How do you plan to buy things? You haven’t sold anything for a while, and well, I haven’t mentioned it, but you aren’t exactly creating much at the moment.”

I believe he wants me to punch him in the face.

“And your money from the tattoo shop must be long gone, and I don’t believe Tabitha is paying you rent.”