I’m out of my seat faster than her. I don’t want to hear it. I’m sick of feeling...like this. I need to get out of her orbit. I need air without her sunny scent. I need space without the sight of her chewing on her luscious lip, without the familiar flecks of gold in her expressive blue eyes, without the sympathy...no more sympathy.
‘Now that the bedrooms are sorted, I have some calls to make.’ I rise with my cup in hand, although I intend to replace it with something stronger as soon as I’m alone. ‘Can you find your own way to yours?’
‘I’m sure I’ll manage.’ But she eyes the doorway as if at any moment it might bite her...
‘You don’t look sure...’
Her eyes flit to me. ‘It’s just...it’s so strange, being back here. I never thought... Well, I didn’t think. And especially not now—not without Katherine.’
Her voice cracks, and for the first time since she arrived I see her grief written in her face. It runs so much deeper now that we’re here, surrounded by my grandmother’s legacy.
‘I know. Her presence is as big as the house itself...her absence too.’
She twists her hands in front of her and I can’t take the sight of her all vulnerable and alone.
‘Right, I’ll take you up.’ The words are abrupt with my frustration, and I grimace as she flinches. ‘Sorry. I’m tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.’
‘You and me both.’
Her fingers tremble as she reaches for her cup and I step in, lifting it for her. We’re so close now—too close—and I keep my eyes trained on the door as I wait for her.
Just show her to her room.
Get yourself to yours.
Get the space you need.
Simple.
Or it should be...
Summer
From the safety of the bedroom threshold, Edward points out the access to the dressing room, the bathroom and, with a bob of his prominent Adam’s apple, the interconnecting door to his bedroom.
And then he’s gone, leaving a hint of his cologne in his wake and a whole heap of tension in the air. I’m not blind to the banked desire behind his eyes, the desire he doesn’t want to feel...
Well, join the club!
‘Is this what you wanted, Katherine?’ I whisper into the room. ‘Is this meant to be a gift and a punishment in one?’
I think about the letter. Think about the way I’d sometimes catch her watching us when we were younger, a smile about her lips and a sparkle in her eye. I didn’t intentionally give away my feelings—my body did it for me... Something Edward’s own mother took great delight in highlighting once upon a time.
My cheeks burn as the memory threatens to engulf me and I’m saved by a knock at the door. I turn to it, press my palms to my cheeks and take a breath, smile. ‘Come in.’
James opens the door, his arms heavily laden. ‘I have your baggage, Miss Summer.’
My smile falters. ‘Please, just call me Summer, James. I feel like I should be looking for my mother when you say “Miss”.’ And if I don’t want to think about Edward’s mother, I certainly don’t want to be thinking about my own. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, that is?’
He seems to think about it for a second more and then he straightens, gives a nod. ‘Very well... Summer. Can I send for Mrs McDougall to help you unpack?’
He eyes my luggage, specifically my backpack, and his brow furrows. He probably thinks a rat will run out of the worn canvas at any moment. Such a contrast to the crisp white department store bags with their fussy black bows and block letters, all carefully filled to the brim thanks to Edward.
‘No, it’s fine. I’ll take care of it.’
‘Of course. Can I get you anything else?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, James.’