THIRTY-TWO
Evie should have packed more underwear. She ended up wearing Aubrey’s boxers, and his hooded top again. Nothing else. He didn’t seem to mind.
He was washing up anyway. She padded into the kitchen on bare feet and started picking up the cardboard packaging from the meal he’d made.
“Where’s your recycling?” she asked. “If you—”
He interrupted her. “Yes, Evie. I recycle.” He rolled his eyes, then nodded to the end of the counter, both hands wet with soapy suds, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. “Over there. That green box.”
She put the cardboard in, then paused as she turned away, wondering what it was that had snagged her attention. She looked back in the green box, seeing nothing at first but card, bits of paper, empty envelopes.
There—that one. Peyton and Partners. A logo on the envelope. That was the solicitor’s firm she had been to today, the ones who had arranged the transfer of the garden into her name.
She picked up the envelope, stared at it with a frown. “Aubrey…”
“Yes?”
He looked up from the sink, saw what she was holding. It could have been nothing. It could have been a coincidence. But his face went very still, and he stepped back from the sink, slowly drying his hands.
“Aubrey… Why…? This is the same solicitor I met this morning.”
“Yes.”
She took a step towards him, holding out the envelope as though she wanted him to check, make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. “You’ve been in touch with them, too?”
“Yes.”
“But… I mean… Not about the garden? Why would you have…? It couldn’t have been…”
Aubrey just looked at her.
She felt swimmy, as though she was going mad. It was insane, the idea that was occurring to her, and she felt embarrassed to say it out loud, because it really, really couldn’t possibly… He definitely couldn’t have…
“Aubrey… Please… Tell me why you were working with these solicitors?”
His jaw twitched. She saw him swallow, and he looked down for a moment, sweeping a crumb off the edge of the counter with a finger. Quite calmly, as though it was very ordinary, he said: “To arrange the purchase of a parcel of land at Laburnum Grove, N16. And transfer it into your legal ownership.”
Her hearing went strange for a moment, sound swooping away then rushing back. “But you… No… You can’t have… Two million pounds, Aubrey…”
“Not quite that much.”
“How much?”
“One point six.” He looked up, met her eye steadily. “Almost exactly the signing bonus I got for securing Domnall White as a client.”
It was hardly the point right now, but she couldn’t help wondering aloud: “That much?”
“He was a very valuable client.”
“Now I know why you wanted him so much.”
Aubrey gave a small, rueful smile. “Yes.”
“But…” she said again, staring at the innocent little envelope in her hand. “I don’t understand. You bought the land?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“But why…? What was that big speech about not caring?”
“I told you. I didn’t care about the garden. Only that you were sad. I thought this might make you happy.”
“A million pounds… I can’t… I can’t accept it. It’s too much.”
“It’s already done.”
She stared at him, completely floored.
His face closed, and he looked away. “This is why I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want this—us, this new chance we have—I didn’t want it to be anything to do with money, or gratitude, or some grand gesture. You weren’t meant to know.”
“I took you there today. You were there. You didn’t say a word… How could you keep something like this a secret?”
“I didn’t lie to you.”
“That’s not what I mean…” But she trailed off, because she had been about to say something about the importance of honesty, openness, and that would be hypocritical, wouldn’t it? When she had her own secret? And unlike his, hers was a shameful one.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said at last, quite honestly. She was sure she should be flying into his arms, weeping tears of joy and gratitude, but the magnitude of the gesture scared her.
“You need a moment to process it. Sit down. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
She almost laughed at that—tea being the universal cure-all. But she couldn’t seem to do anything at all except walk woodenly to the sofa and sit down. After a moment, Aubrey sat down next to her and silently passed her a cup of tea.
“You’re freaked out,” he said. “It’s understandable. And exactly why I didn’t want you to know.” He smiled a little artificially. “This is why recycling is a terrible idea.”
That finally made her laugh—shakily. She was still holding the envelope in one hand, and she put it down, wrapping both hands around the hot mug.
“I am grateful,” she said. “Too grateful to even speak. As you can see.” She gave herself a shake, annoyed at how pathetic that sounded. “I will pay you back. Somehow. Eventually.”
“Evie, no.” He put his hand on her knee, drew her to face him. “No. Don’t you dare. I just told you that money was a bonus. I won’t miss it. Besides, I think you more than deserve it for being forced to waltz with the man.”
She gave another small laugh. “But your job… You’re out of work… Surely you need the money now.”
He squeezed her knee. “I’ll be fine. I have savings.”
“You’re mad. Mad to spend the money on this when you need it yourself.”
“I don’t need it. And as a great poet once said: Love isn’t rational, and I think I might love you.”
She laughed for real that time, needing to put her tea down on the coffee table so that she didn’t spill it. Then she did the thing she probably should have done from the start and climbed into Aubrey’s lap, her arms around his neck, her face pressed to his chest. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t deserve it. But thank you.”
“I did it for the trees,” said Aubrey dryly, though his arms came tight around her back. “For the bees and the butterflies and the damned rainbows.”
“For the children,” she said, voice muffled as much by tears as by his shirt.
“Yes,” he said, more seriously. “Perhaps I did it a bit for the children, too.”
They were quiet for a moment, Evie warm and tight in the nest of his arms, the beat of his heart under her ear. She sniffled back her daft tears, Aubrey stroking her shoulder with the one thumb he could spare from holding her. They were content like that for a long time.
Then Evie said softly, “Aubrey?”
“Mm?”
“I think I might love you.”