Page 7 of One Week With You
I rolled my eyes but felt pretty satisfied by the sound of running water. “Now fill the glass again and put it by your bed. Maybe grab some paracetamol too. Tomorrow’s Talia will thank me.”
“Can I thank you now, for answering?” she asked after gulping down some water. “I know you’re a busy bee. That’s why I called because I’m a busy worker bee too. We’re the same like that, always buzz buzzing around. I knew you would understand, y’know? One workaholic to another.”
I frowned. She was right – I rarely had a spare moment to even think – but it was unsettling. The me of twenty years ago had never planned to be so work-focused. It had just happened. As the only child of William Scott, it wasn’t like I had any choice in the matter.
“Well, maybe you can take this as a sign to take some time off,” I said. “Regroup or whatever.”
“Ha! I wish. But I’m not that brave.” She went quiet again. “I’m never brave.”
I didn’t like the sadness working its way into her voice. “Talia – ”
“Anyway, I’m gonna go now,” she added brightly, like she’d shrugged it off and pulled herself together somehow. “Bottles to drink, tears to cry. Thanks for listening. I’ll be seeing you, Rafe.”
“You can count on it.”
“Hmm.”
“You can count on it,” I repeated adamantly, seconds before she hung up.
I stared at my phone until the screen darkened, unsettled in more ways than one.
Still dazed and disconcerted, I walked back into the living room. Leo was relaxed on the sofa, cradling a beer, feet propped on the coffee table while he watched the post-match talk.
“Did you get everything sorted?” he asked.
“Almost.” Not even close. “Score?”
“2–1. Sterling came in at the final minute.”
“I thought we’d won with the noise you’d made.” I flopped onto the opposite end of the sofa and stretched my arms behind my head. We watched in silence for a while before I asked, “Do you think I’m a workaholic?”
Leo’s laughter stopped as soon as he realised I wasn’t joining in. “Oh, you’re serious?”
“Why is that funny?”
The pointed lift of his brow saidDude, really?“You spent the whole game on your phone and missed the end to answer a call you could’ve sent to voicemail, and you don’t think you’re a workaholic? Didn’t picture you for stupid.”
“Okay, easy now. Point taken but there’s no need to be a dickhead about it.”
“I’m just saying. Switch it off every once in a while and maybe your bed won’t be stone cold.”
I scowled because, yet again, he had a fucking point.
Maybe it was time to change that.
CHAPTER3
TALIA
Christmas decorations at my parents’house came out on December 1st, so the front hedge was decked with multi-coloured lights when I arrived on Sunday afternoon. A wreath of blue pine, dried glazed orange slices and cinnamon sticks hung slightly crooked on the front door. Through the front room window, the Christmas tree and fireplace garland were sprinkled with white lights. Despite the ache in my chest, the weighty gloom lightened at the comfort the entire picture held.
Dorothy was right.There’s no place like home.
Sometimes.
The ruling part of me dreaded stepping through the door because the pretence would be over. I’d have to admit out loud the reality that had gnawed at me since Friday afternoon.
I’m thirty-five years old with no job and no idea what to do next.
