Total pages in book: 221
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
I feel way more light-hearted as we finish up and get ready to leave for the night. I blow dry my hair and step out of the leisure centre before I grab my car keys and pull my phone from my bag.
The message icon is showing. My fingers are jittery as I click to open it.
I know you’re heading into the pool, baby. I hope you have a good swim. See you soon. x
Again, it sounds tame for him. No missed calls, or voicemails. No stream of messages about how much he’s missing me, or how he can’t wait to be home for the weekend and can’t wait to meet my parents.
I drive back up to the house, thinking about how best to reply to him, and I’m halfway up the hill road when I see the house is glowing, right at the top of the track.
Someone is in there.
Holy shit. Someone is in there.
I feel like I’m in a horror movie, heart pumping as I keep on driving, worried I’m going to be walking into some kind of stalker film where the mysterious Bob from the guest room is waiting for me with a kitchen knife. I almost pull over and call Ant. Almost. But I’m glad I don’t. My heart jumps in absolute relief when the gates swing open and I see it’s his car in the driveway. I’m grinning like a headcase as the front door swings open and he steps out to join me, running into his arms in a flash.
“Surprise!” he says and squeezes me tight. “I couldn’t resist it, baby. I had to fly back home to be with you.”
That explains it. Damn, it’s obvious. He’s been quiet because he’s been ready to surprise me, flying back a day early before we go to Bucklebury. Jesus, I feel the relief.
He helps me grab my bags from the car, and I can’t stop looking at him as we step inside. He’s still dressed to perfection in a dark tan suit and sleek matching tie, and all fears and stupid notions of mine are pushed into the crazy bin where they belong. He’s as gorgeous as ever, eyes full of love, greeting me with a pan already on the hob as he makes my dinner.
“Prawn gumbo, since you opted for Pizza De-shite last night.”
I laugh, sliding my hands around his waist as he stirs the pan.
“It was a great pizza, actually. Janie was right.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“You don’t,” I tell him as he looks back at me with a smile. “We could order one up here the next time we have a movie afternoon. I’d recommend spicy chicken any day.”
He gives me a tut and rolls his eyes.
“Have as many pizzas as you like, but I won’t be eating them along with you. They do sweet fuck all for your nutrition. Believe me, when you get fully into the yoga and swimming you’ll agree with me and give them a wide berth.”
I shrug, because I probably will. Maybe my love of microwave meals and takeouts is coming to an end.
“De Chante?” he asks me, but I shake my head.
“No, thank you. Mineral water for me, please.”
He nods his head, approvingly.
“Good girl. Great choice.”
It feels like it as I take an iced water sip. I need it after my swim session.
“So, how was the pool? How is your front crawl?” he asks me.
“Not quite front crawl, more like splash around in doggy paddle with a few attempts at a decent swim, but I’m sure I’ll get better at it.”
“Put in the practice, baby, and you’ll be entering local competitions before long. You must look like a sleek stunner in your swimming costume.”
We’re eating at the table and I feel a lot more comfortable than I did earlier by the time I broach the topic of the wardrobe upstairs. I take another swig of mineral water before I ask the question, still unsure what the hell the explanation could be.
“Janie was staying in the room across from ours last night,” I tell him. “I opened the wardrobe door for her to hang her stuff up.”
He nods with a smirk.
“Ha, yes. And found it was full to bursting.”
He seems so easy with it, so I smile along.
“Yeah. Those clothes aren’t yours, are they?”
“Nah, definitely not my style. I’m sure you could tell that by looking at them.” He pauses to take another bite of gumbo. “They’re Gerwyn’s. So are all the boxes and cases. He keeps them here since he gave up his place in Worcester. He spends most of his time over with me in Berlin.”
I laugh a proper laugh at that, feeling like a total idiot for picturing a guy called Bob with a kitchen knife.
“What?” Ant asks. “What’s so funny?”
I decide to admit the truth, stumbling over my words since I’m laughing so much.