‘What’s wrong?’
Her voice startles me, and I realise I’m gripping her tightly. I force my hand to relax, my body too.
‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘I was.’
Her head moves against me and I can just make out her eyes in the darkness, looking up at me.
‘And then you seemed to stop breathing. What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Nothing for you to worry about at any rate.’
‘If it’s bothering you, then it bothers me.’
I can hear how much she cares in her voice and guilt claws through my chest.
Just bide your time. You can tell her when she’s safe.
I nudge her lips with my own. ‘It can wait. Now, go back to sleep. You’ve another full-on day tomorrow.’
She groans. ‘Don’t remind me. I’m not sure what’s worse—the fact that I have back-to-back meetings or a family dinner to contend with.’
The family dinner gets my vote.
‘Just tell your brother you can’t make it.’
‘I can’t. He wants to discuss Granny’s care and we’re all going—his wife, his mother... I want to be there and make sure they’re doing right by her.’
She falls quiet but her fingers are toying with the hair on my chest, betraying her active brain. Is she worrying about the meal? Her grandmother’s health? The future?
‘Ash?’
‘Hmm...?’
‘Pick me up after? I should be done by ten at the latest.’
I smile at her soft request. ‘Of course.’
Whatever she’s thinking about, worrying over, the fact that she still wants me there at the end of it makes everything feel okay, even though it shouldn’t.
* * *
Dinner is all one would expect from a Michelin-starred restaurant, but I’m not really tasting anything. The starter was swallowed in silence, the main amidst a smattering of small talk. Clara looks bored beyond measure and I’m doing my utmost to ignore my darling stepmother. I’m eager to get the night over with, so I can make my excuses and hurry back to Ash.
I’m more tired than usual too, and I know I have our nightly antics to thank for that, but dealing with the force that is my brother and the women flanking him is always hard work. His mother even now is raking a critical eye over me and sending the hairs on the backs of my exposed arms prickling. I rub them and do my best to ignore her.
‘Are you cold?’ Clara asks me, frowning at the move.
‘A little.’
His mother sips her wine and offers me a disparaging smile. ‘Perhaps if you dressed more appropriately you wouldn’t be.’
‘You ought to know,’ I snap, regretting it as soon as it’s out.