Page 44 of One Week With You
I nodded, even though I didn’t have a clue. It had been years since I’d seen a snow plough in London. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we tried digging one of the cars out? There’s a couple of snow shovels in the garage. It shouldn’t take long with the two of us.”
“I think it’ll be quicker if I walk. It’s only ten minutes.”
I rolled my eyes. He sounded like Oliver when he’d told me he could run five miles in fifteen minutes.Yeah right.And pigs could fly.
“Fifteen minutes by car and that’s if the roads are clear. It’ll take forever walking in this weather. What’s the rush?” We had a fully stocked fridge and pantry, and I wasn’t flying back to London for another four days, though now I wondered if Rafe had different plans.
I hadn’t considered that possibility, hadn’t thought to ask. Questions about the future – about everything – had disappeared the moment we slept together. Nothing else had seemed important.
“Just getting things in order.” Rafe snatched the slice of toast growing cold on my plate and crunched the crust, brushing at the crumbs caught in the knit of his navy sweater. “We have to go back to real life soon,” he mumbled around the mouthful, then licked a blob of jam off his thumb.
Five minutes ago I would’ve grabbed his wrist and licked it for him, but my stomach was too busy sinking like an anchor, right to the soles of my feet.
Real life.
“Is this not real life?” I wondered out loud.
“Not really. Our lives are in London.”
“Right.”Ouch.I hadn’t expected him to say that so easily, dismissively almost. Emotion burned thick in my throat, stinging at my eyes, anddon’t cry, don’t fucking cry, Talia. “Of course. You must be busy.”
“It’s never-ending,” he said with a sigh, scraping both hands down the sides of his face, rubbing circles at his temples. “Usually I’d delegate but I don’t want to be the asshole calling my assistant a few days after Christmas, you know?”
“You’re a great boss.” I pushed my chair back, the noise stark in the otherwise quiet room, and started clearing the table. I dumped our plates in the sink, the cutlery a loud metallic scrape against the porcelain, and stared out of the kitchen window across the snowy landscape, willing my tear ducts to get their act together before I had to turn back around. “You should probably set off soon though, while it’s still light. It won’t be safe to go any later.”
It was quiet for a long moment and for the first time since Rafe arrived, I hated the sound, the itch of it at my skin. I flipped the tap to fill the sink so there was some kind of noise.
“You’re right,” he said over the gurgle of running water. “I’ll get changed.”
My knuckles whitened as I gripped the edge of the sink, listening intently as he left the room, and only loosened my hold and all the tension in my spine once I heard the pad of his footsteps up the stairs.
Something had changed and it had nothing to do with clothes.
* * *
Across the snow-dusted valley I could just about make out the back of Rafe’s head as he walked toward the village. Despite the limited visibility, it was obvious there was still a lot of snow and probably ice on the road. My stomach knotted. One wrong move, that’s all it would take, and I’d have no way of knowing if he’d been hurt and needed help. At best, a bruise or a broken bone. At worst… No. I couldn’t bear thinking about it.
I needed to keep busy, keep moving. Watching TV or reading, any kind of activity that required sitting still, rarely helped. I cleaned the kitchen first before moving on to the bathrooms.
Over an hour passed.
I smelled like bleach.
Still nothing.
On my second pass through the kitchen, my gaze snagged on the village shop business card pinned to the fridge with a bottle opener magnet. I rolled my fingertips against the counter while I stared at it, deliberating.Should I?I shook my head, intending to walk away, but in the end I couldn’t help myself. I needed to know. I dialled the number on the card, biting at my lip while it rang and rang.
“Oh my god, what?” a girl’s voice said with sulky teenager tones.
Uh, hello to you too. “Is Mrs Brown there please?”
A loud, frustrated sigh bled down the line. Pretty sure I heard an eye roll too. “Hang on.” There was a thunk, then a distant, “Nana! Someone on the phone for you!”
After a couple of minutes, Mrs Brown answered with a cheery and much more polite greeting.
“Hi, this is Talia. I’m staying at Rafe’s cottage?”
“Oh, yes. Hello, dear. What can I do for you? Is everything alright?”
