Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 119548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
But why had I never realised just how far that care went?
Hairbands in the car door. Pads in the car first aid kit. Knowing I had personal items in his house.
Geez.
Even I was starting to think we were a real couple. I couldn’t blame everyone else for all those questions now.
On the other hand, maybe there wasn’t as much of a transition to being a married couple as I’d anticipated.
Not that I knew much about marriage, of course. My parents had hardly been the poster couple for a successful relationship, and unfortunately, I hadn’t laid eyes on the miserable bastard that was my sperm donor in eight years.
Unfortunate in that it was only eight years and not eighteen.
Ah, well. I couldn’t win them all.
On the other hand, my only healthy experience with it was Fred’s parents. Even if they swung a little too far to the unhealthy side of being in love, if you asked me. They’d been utterly besotted with each other for as long as I could remember, and I still believed it was a true miracle that Aunt Vi hadn’t followed Uncle Eric to the grave after he’d died.
I’d truly thought for a moment that she wouldn’t be able to live without him.
Theirs was a fairytale kind of love compared to the villainous disaster that was my parents’ marriage, but I didn’t want either. I never had. I never wanted to be swept off my feet or carried away into the sunset.
I just wanted… love. Something soft. Stable. Something real. Built on trust and understanding.
I wanted a love that was utterly boring.
I shook those thoughts off and rolled over in my blanket. I was all tucked up and had no intention of getting out of bed, even if Nana was downstairs.
My phone buzzed on the bedside table, and I groaned as I reluctantly crept an arm out of my cosy haven.
Si.
I did not want to answer this call.
“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” I said, tucking the phone under my ear on the pillow.
“Deli,” he replied, a clanging noise coming from behind him. “Can you come in at one?”
“Siiiiiiii,” I whined.
“Bean’s kid went arse over tit on his bike this morning and has broken his wrist. He’s at A&E now. Gonna be there a while, so I said I’d get someone to cover him.”
“Why is it always Bean? And why is it always his kid?”
“Poor sod probably got his dad’s brains,” Si answered. “At least he was smart enough to wear a helmet.”
Yeah, well, if the kid had actually inherited Bean’s brain, it was just as well that he was. He really couldn’t afford to lose the few brain cells he had.
“All right, fine, but he owes me. I’m getting out of bed for this.”
“You’re a good one, kid.”
“I’m twenty-nine.”
“That’s a kid to me.” He chuckled down the line. “Thanks, Deli. I appreciate it. You know he’ll return the favour.”
I sighed. I did. Bean was an idiot, but he was a good guy—even if nobody did know where the nickname ‘Bean’ had come from.
Seriously. It was a mystery. Not a single soul in Hartford Green knew how he’d gotten it. It was as if he’d woken up one day and everyone just started calling him it.
What even was his real name?
Had I ever heard it?
“See you in a couple hours,” Si said, pulling me out of my little thought train. He hung up before I could respond, and I rolled over with a groan that I felt all through my body.
I was aching. I was tired. Going in at one meant I was on the books for a twelve-hour shift today. Sure, I wasn’t in work tomorrow, but that wasn’t the point.
I didn’t want to be in work now. I wanted to be in at five like I was supposed to be.
“What’s that all about?”
I raised my head and stared at one half-naked, wet Fred. A grey, fluffy towel was wrapped around his waist, and his auburn hair fell over his forehead, dripping water all over his face.
“Put some clothes on,” I said, staring at his abs. “Nobody wants to see that.”
“Then stop looking,” he drawled, turning away from me anyway. “Close your eyes.”
I flopped back and pressed my hands over my face. The sounds of drawers opening and closing filled the room, and fabric swished. A couple of minutes later, he grabbed my foot.
I screamed, jerking away from him. I whacked my head on the thick, wooden headboard, and my eyes watered as the sharp pain radiated across my skull.
“Owww!”
“Shit!” Fred rushed over and grabbed my head, pushing it down to check the back of it. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he said, parting my hair with his fingers. “I didn’t think you’d jump halfway across the bed.”
“You know how I feel about my feet being touched!”
“I didn’t think you’d be that ticklish through the duvet!”