57
The house quieted in stages.
Dinner arrived in waves of insulated boxes and polite delivery drivers who clearly hadn’t expected to be greeted by thirty massive rugby players.
Suzanne directed it all with practiced ease, making sure everyone ate what the nutritionist had prescribed, even as Jack loudly mourned the absence of “real carbs.” Plates were cleared.
Laughter echoed down the corridors. One by one, the team peeled off toward their assigned rooms.
It became a ritual.
Each group passed Cornelius’s study on the way upstairs. Heads poked in. Large frames hovered awkwardly in the doorway.
“Night, sir.”
“Goodnight, Dr. Ashford.”
“Sleep well, boss-man.”
Cornelius acknowledged each with a small nod, pen still in hand, eyes twinkling behind his glasses as though he were cataloging them for later amusement.
Claire lingered after the last of them. She leaned against the doorframe, suddenly not a doctor or a professional, just a daughter again.
“Thank you for this,” she said quietly. “All of it.”
Suzanne crossed the room and kissed her cheek. “This house was built for people. It’s nice to hear it breathe again.”
Cornelius reached out and squeezed her hand. “Goodnight, darling.”
“Goodnight,” Claire said, heart full.
She turned down the hall, passed her childhood bedroom – and stopped short.
Toby sat cross-legged on the floor outside her door, back against the wall, phone in hand, scrolling with the resigned expression of a man who had drawn the short straw in life.
She blinked. Once. Twice.
“…Not this again,” she muttered. “Every single time.”
Toby glanced up. “He brought a bloke in,” he said. “Name’s Arthur. Very polite. Too polite. Posh actually.”
Claire pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course he did.”
Toby gestured weakly at the door. “I’m sleeping out here tonight, I guess.”
She looked at him, then at the door, then back at him, and sighed.
“Come on,” she said. “You’re invited to girls’ night. Tania and I have wine.”
Toby stood instantly, grinning. “Thanks, Doc,” he said, reverent. “I’ve never been to a girl’s night.”
Behind them, Kelsey and Arthur’s laughter echoed, obviously getting into something lustful and nefarious.
“You’d love it, Toby,” Claire said gently.
Toby followed Claire down the hall like a rescued animal, glancing once over his shoulder as Kelsey’s booming laugh carried from her old bedroom.
“At least they’re having a good time,” Claire said.
She pushed open the door to the guest room and took in the glow of the large space.
It was softer than the rest of the house with cream walls, pale wood furniture, a wide bed already turned down and a cot set up by the grand windows on the other side of the room.
There is plenty of space for 6’6” giant.
“I picked up a stray,” Claire announced.
Tania, who was kneeling on the rug surrounded by open toiletry bags and folded towels, looked up and grinned. “Oh no! Toby, what happened?”
“Temporary foster,” Claire answered for him. “He’s been displaced by Kelsey’s… social life.”
Toby lifted a hand in greeting. “I come with fun and my dignity hanging by a thread.”
“Perfect,” Tania said brightly. “You’ll fit right in.”
Claire crossed the room and gestured to the bed. “There’s a mattress underneath. Pulls right out. You can bunk with us for the night.”
Toby blinked. “You’re serious?”
“Completely. Bathroom’s en suite.” She pointed. “Linen closet is there. It has extra blankets, pillows, the good towels. Make yourself at home.”
He stood there for a moment, visibly processing the kindness, then nodded. “Right. I will… be very quiet, you won’t even know I’m here, Doc.”
Tania had already started arranging candles along the dresser. “You’re one of the girlies now, Toby.”
“What does that mean?” Toby asked warily.
“It means,” Claire said, pouring wine into three glasses, “that you’re about to be pampered, and will do everything together.”
They settled in on the luscious king-sized bed – Claire and Tania propped against pillows, Toby cross-legged at the foot like a guest at a very confusing ceremony. Tania began laying out jars and packets.
“Okay,” she said, professional now. “This is a hydrating mask. It’ll calm your skin and reduce inflammation. You’ll feel like a moisturized god.”
Toby peered at the pale green paste. “It looks like something you’d put on a fence.”
“Trust the process,” Claire said, handing him a glass of wine.
They painted the masks on. Toby flinched when the brush touched his face.
“It’s cold,” he yelped.
“Stop wriggling,” Tania scolded. “You’re not a child.”
Claire laughed and moved to his hands. “Give me those.”
He hesitated, then extended them.
She examined his jagged, bruised, and bitten nails. “Oh, Toby.”
“I play rugby,” he said defensively. “These hands have seen things.”
She filed gently. He watched in fascinated horror.
“This is… kind of nice,” he admitted. “I could get used to this.”
Tania raised her glass. “To girls’ night.”
Toby lifted his, “To not sleeping in a hallway.”
Three faces gleamed faintly green in the lamplight, wine between them, the house quiet at last while somewhere down the hall, Kelsey continued to make himself at home with a duke.
They were deep into it by the time Noah reached Claire’s assigned room.
He heard a soft melody playing on the other side of the door. Laughter spilled under the crack in warm, breathless bursts.
Noah paused, considering how Claire might find him needy or desperate. He hadn’t meant to intrude. He’d only wanted to check on Claire, maybe say goodnight, get a sneaky kiss, but now it seemed he shouldn’t interrupt. He shifted his weight, already deciding to turn back –
Then he heard it.
A man’s laugh.
His brow furrowed. The sound was unmistakable. Male. Very much not supposed to be in a room meant for Claire.
Before he could second-guess himself, Noah pushed the door open.
No knock.
Three heads turned.
All three faces were coated in thick, drying mud masks. All three were sitting cross-legged on the bed. All three were wearing white monogrammed bathrobes with a C, an S, and a K. And Toby – glorious, traitorous Toby – was wearing a plush pink headband to hold his bangs off his forehead.
The room froze.
Wine glasses hovered mid-air. A nail file dropped onto the rug.
They stared at him.
Noah stared back.
“…What the hell am I looking at?” he demanded.
Toby gasped, affronted. “Excuse you. It’s rude not to knock.”
Noah pointed weakly at him. “Why are you… like that?”
Toby gestured to his face. “Girls’ night. Duh.”
Noah shook his head slowly. “I have two sisters, you dummy, I know what girls’ night is,” he said, eyes still locked on Toby’s headband. Then he pointed at him. “But why are you here?”
Toby lifted his wine with dignity. “Because Arthur is there.”
“Ah,” Noah said, understanding Arthur and Kelsey and whatever relationship, or not-putting-a-label-on-it-ship they had.
Claire added, far too casually, “He was posted outside my door like a cute, abandoned puppy.”
Tania nodded. “We adopted him.”
Toby leaned back against the pillows, giving Noah his best puppy dog eyes. “I am emotionally displaced.”
Noah stared at him for a beat, then at Claire. “So instead of having him sleep in literally any other room in this mansion, you brought him into your room?”
“I didn’t mean to,” she said, voice muffled and plaintive. “I was just saying goodnight to mum and dad, and then he’s sitting on the floor like a poor thing, and he looked at me like I’m the last lifeboat on the Titanic.”
Toby lifted a finger. “Accurate.”
Tania added, “yeah… lifeboat.”
Claire ignored him. “So, I bring him in for one minute, and suddenly he’s got wine, and a headband, and emotional support pillows, and please let him stay, Noah.” She looked back at Noah, eyes wide in mock despair. “I can’t just leave him in the hallway, babe. I’m not a monster.”
“I said no pets,” Noah said to Claire.
Tania chimed in. “He was distraught, Cap. He needed help and to chat— “
Toby smiled sweetly. “And exfoliation.”
“And exfoliation,” Claire agreed.
Noah exhaled through his nose. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or deeply concerned.”
Claire shifted on the bed and looked at him again, eyes soft beneath the drying mask.
“Well?” she said, voice dipping into that familiar, coaxing whine. “Are you going to join?”
Noah blinked. “Join what?”
She lifted the spare headband from the nightstand and held it out toward him between two fingers.
“Girls’ night,” she said simply. “We have wine. We have clay. We have Toby.”
Toby nodded solemnly. “It is very healing in here. To be honest, Cap, it’s perfect for pre-game concentration.”
Tania patted the empty space on the bed. “We can fix your pores, Captain.”
“What’s wrong with my pores?” he asked, touching his face.
The group just stared at him with wide, persuasive eyes. Noah stared at the headband on Toby’s head, then at Toby’s glowing, muddy face. Then back at Claire, who gave him a small, hopeful smile.
“…Absolutely not,” he said.
Claire’s shoulders slumped dramatically. “Wow. Wow. So, you don’t support vulnerable men.”
He hesitated.
“That’s sexist,” said Tania.
Toby wiggled his freshly filed fingers. “Unbelievable, Cap.” He gestured to his captain with his thumb. “Do you believe this guy?”
“I’m just glad I found this out now, before we got too serious or anything,” Claire joked with a smirk.
“Red flag, TBH, Doc,” Toby said.
Noah held their gaze for a long second.
The room was absurd. Candles. Clay. Toby’s bangs restrained by a fluffy pink band, matching bathrobes, Claire’s eyes were wide and hopeful in a way she never let anyone else see.
He exhaled.
“Everyone in this house is going to blackmail me with this,” he muttered.
Claire’s face lit up. “That’s a yes.”
He took the headband from her fingers like it might explode. “If a single photo exists—”
“Gone,” Tania promised instantly.
Toby patted the bed beside him. “Welcome, brother.”