* * *
A couple of hours later, I filled the kitchen sink with warm water and soapy bubbles. After dropping that bomb at dinner, the washing-up was the least I could do. I felt like punishing myself for some reason, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong.
What was so wrong with needing space?
Part of me was also desperate to avoid the inevitable job discussion with my dad. I’d already caught him looking at job adverts on his mobile, and the sight had me fleeing the room.
“Here, let me,” Rafe said softly, nudging my hands away from where I was trying to tie the apron behind my back.
“Thanks,” I said, my breath quickening at the feel of him behind me, slowly looping the strings into a neat bow at the base of my spine. Hyper aware that he was likely staring at my ass. Everything he did was so methodical, but it set on me edge in ways I didn’t know were possible, didn’t truly understand. My swallow was more than a little ragged when he settled his hands on my hips, gave me a soft pat and said, “All done,” right against my ear in that low, gruff tone that always made me shiver.
I clenched my eyes closed.
He was close, too close, and why did he have to touch me like that? Like the curve of my hips were a perfect fit for his hands? Like he wanted to memorise the shape of my body through touch alone? He’d done that once and look what happened.
Instead, I said, “I’ll wash, you dry?”
“Sure.” Rafe grabbed a tea towel from the counter, grinning at the material dotted with cartoon reindeers and Christmas stockings. My mum went all out. Even the toilet paper was patterned with candy canes and gold stars.
We worked together in comfortable silence, the kind that came with familiar, monotonous tasks with friends. The TV was a distant murmur in the living room along with my brothers arguing about Chelsea’s latest match. By the third plate, Rafe said, “Were you serious about being alone this Christmas?”
If only.A dreamy sigh drifted out before I’d thought about it. “If I could get on a plane and fly away tomorrow, I would. A girl can dream, right?”
“And it’s important to you? To get away?”
“I’d like to. I mean, obviously I won’t be going anywhere but… I don’t know. I need a change. I think I’m still in shock. I never expected it. I’ve never been fired in my life.”
“Your boss is an idiot.”
I’d heard Nadia called a lot of things over the years, butidiotwas a definite first. “You’ve never even met her,” I said with a grin. “But I agree.”
“Don’t need to. I’ve heard enough horror stories from you over the years. She’s a tyrant.”
Understatement.
“What’s worse is that she spoke about promoting me,” I admitted, which I hadn’t told anyone. I only shared good news once there was some. Thank god. “I could probably get over the firing if it wasn’t for that. I keep racking my brain trying to figure out what changed. Was it anything I did or said? It’s a mind fuck.”
“So she promised promotion and sacked you? Fucking asshole.”
Rafe scowled down at the measuring jug, wiping it dry with more roughness than necessary. My chest warmed at his annoyance on my behalf.
“And Michael…” he added as I passed him another plate. “Must’ve been tough.”
“Eh.” I would’ve flapped a dismissive hand if it hadn’t been wrist-deep in sink water. I’d barely thought about the man. “That should’ve ended months ago. It hurt the way he did it, but that’s about it.”
Rafe nodded distractedly. “Right.”
“You think I’m terrible, don’t you?” I asked, cringing. “That I’m not bothered about my boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend.” Rafe turned to me fully, fist braced on the counter. “And the way I feel about you is the complete opposite of terrible, Talia.”
WHAT?
My heart jumped right into my throat.
What does that mean?
My eyes felt as wide as dinner plates. Rafe’s gaze settled briefly on my lips and flitted away, as it always did when things grew too intense, too close to that line we’d crossed once before. I wanted to grab him by his collar and rattle him, shake out all the answers to my questions somehow. But I didn’t. Iwouldn’t.