Chapter 9
BACK AT THE COTTAGE, JESS gratefully accepted a plate piled high with noodles, sweet and sour pork, lemon chicken, and various brightly coloured vegetables topped with three wontons.
“Do you think you ordered enough food?” she teased from the couch, her plate in her lap.
Nate took a seat at the table and stared at the mountain of food on his plate. “You were asleep, and I didn’t know what you’d want, so I just ordered everything.”
“I can see that. Thank you, though. This all looks good.” She had slept the whole car ride home and woken in the driveway with Nate gently rocking her shoulder. He’d somehow stopped to grab Chinese takeaways on the way back and she’d slept right through.
She lifted a forkful of noodles to her mouth, her arms cement. Her entire twenties, working long and late, partying hard, and barely sleeping, were finally catching up with her. There was nothing beyond the plate in front of her, as far as she was concerned.
“So, we didn’t manage to sort out the accommodation situation today,” Nate said, sounding hesitant.
“I figured, seeing as you’re still here.
Honestly, I don’t even care right now. I’m so tired I think I could sleep outside on the rosebushes and I probably wouldn’t even notice.
” She didn’t want to explain it to Nate, but it wasn’t just the tiredness that made her care less about the cottage situation.
After a birth, she always rode a wave of euphoria for at least a day.
A new life coming into the world was something she never stopped feeling amazed by.
It’s why she worked so hard; why she tolerated the sleepless nights and interrupted plans.
Guiding a newborn into the world safely had given her life so much meaning that nothing else came close.
It put everything in perspective every single time.
She knew it’d wear off eventually, but for now, she was happy to stay in her blissful bubble, even if she spent the night on the couch again.
Nate rubbed the back of his neck, as if massaging away an ache. “You should take the bed tonight.”
“You’re going to sleep on the couch? I barely fit last night. Don’t worry about it.” She cracked into a wonton, enjoying the salty crunch on her tongue. A full stomach and a comfortable bed sounded like heaven, but she wasn’t about to fight for it. If he wanted the bed, so be it.
“It’s only fair,” Nate persisted. “You’re the one who actually delivered a baby today. I just pretended to deliver them.”
“Good point. Okay, I’ll take the bed. Thanks.”
The memory of James and Zara holding their newest addition to the family made her smile again. Her whole body buzzed with warmth.
“Have you been a midwife long?” Nate interrupted her thoughts.
“I graduated seven years ago.”
“You seem to love it.”
“There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. What about you?”
“I—ah.” Nate hesitated and gave her a curious look, like she’d just found a secret diary in his sock drawer.
“I guess most actors love acting?” she pressed.
“I did when I was a kid. I was in a UK soap opera for a long time and I enjoyed it, mostly.”
“Anything I’d know?”
“I doubt it.” Nate laughed. “So you’ve lived in New—”
“Uh-ah, you don’t get to change the topic that easy.” Scooping up another forkful of food, she waved it at him threateningly. “What were you in? Coronation Street? I have noodles and I’m not afraid to use them.”
Laughing again, Nate held his hand up, shielding his face. “Fine. Only because I’m worried I won’t win in a food fight. I was in a show called Fairworth Street.”
“You’re kidding!” Jess placed her fork down. “My mum was obsessed with that show. Who were you? Little Freddy?”
He winced. “Pete.”
“Oh no. Really?”
“What? Was I that bad?”
She loaded her fork with chicken and took a mouthful, making him sweat.
Swallowing, she waved her hand at him. “Don’t look so horrified.
You’re safe. I haven’t seen it. Mum always tried to get me to watch it with her, but I was too busy swooning over Todd from Dawson’s Creek.
” She laughed at the memory, and the relieved look on Nate’s face.
“You didn’t miss anything, believe me. A bunch of old ladies pinching my cheeks and telling me to run off and play in the street so they could gossip and eat scones.”
“Sounds about right.” Jess remembered the British accents droning on in the background of their living room; her mum balancing a dinner plate on her lap in front of the tele, while Jess watched her own shows in her bedroom.
“So, did you live on set? I can’t even imagine how that works.”
“No, I lived with my parents in London. They were both busy. My father is an Oncologist and my mother is a Professor of Philosophy at King’s College, but they were very supportive. Still are.”
“And I’m thinking…private school.” She shrugged, teasing him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nate laughed, trying and failing to look defensive.
“Am I wrong?”
“Well, no. I did go to St Paul’s for my last two years, but I was taught on set for most of my schooling.”
“By a private tutor? Speaking Latin and French and conjugating verbs.”
“Oui, je l'ai fait, je le fais, je le ferai.”
“I rest my case.” Jess smirked at him.
While he was distracted by his dinner, she took a moment to examine Nate’s face, trying to get a read on him. Who was this guy with his private school manners and actors’ charm?
He’d helped her today with research on set, been so great with Zara, bought her dinner, and now he was giving up the bed? Surely it was some kind of play, being sweet and thoughtful so he could get something from her. But maybe it was genuine?
A rush of attraction stirred within her, but she knew not to trust it. Her brain was dopamine-filled mush after the delivery. Any hot-blooded man feeding her and offering her a comfortable bed would look good right now. Still, the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“We could share the bed. With a pillow wall between us, of course.” She knew it was misguided and probably sent the wrong message, but she couldn’t help feeling grateful for Nate’s presence today.
Nate froze mid-chew and swallowed hard. “Seriously?”
Too late to back out now. “Sure. Why not?”
“Only if you feel comfortable with that,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to make you feel pressured. I’m totally fine on the couch, honestly.”
Again with the gentlemanly manners. This guy was seriously something else.
“You stay on your side, I stay on mine and it’ll be just fine,” she said as another wave of tiredness hit. She stood and headed for the fridge to save her food for later. “I’ll change in there first, though. I’m well and truly done for the day. You can do what you like.”
Fighting to stay upright, Jess pulled an oversized shirt and pyjama pants out of her suitcase, stumbled into the only bedroom to change, and fell into bed.
NATE FINISHED HIS PLATE OF FOOD IN SILENCE, his mind racing. Should he take Jess up on her offer to share the bed?
If she didn’t look so much like Samantha, he probably wouldn’t be so conflicted, but what if he got confused in the night and woke up spooning her?
It hadn’t been that long since Samantha, and his body memory of her was still strong.
A mistake like that would be more than awkward.
From what he’d learned about Jess so far, the scenario would probably end with him cradling an injury of some kind. A broken nose or a knee to the groin.
The pillow wall would need to be a decent one. Spoon proof. The couch was certainly the safer option, but Jess was right: it wouldn’t make for a comfortable night’s sleep.
“When did you become this guy?” Nate scolded himself. So uncertain and confused, living an emotional rollercoaster. He knew exactly when, though. When he discovered his close friend and the woman he was going to marry weren’t the people he thought they were. That’s when.
It completely upended everything he thought he knew. Of course, it infuriated him—made him untrusting and withdrawn—but he also couldn’t shake the feeling that it was somehow his fault.
He’d worked such long hours in London and cancelled their plans constantly. In his last conversation with Samantha, before he found out about the affair, she was reminding him about their friends’ wedding that afternoon. He’d forgotten all about it.
“How could you forget something so important?” she’d asked him. “Will I have to remind you to attend your own wedding?”
He tried to say the right thing. Reassure her that forgetting didn’t mean he didn’t care and, of course, he wouldn’t forget his own wedding.
The conversation smoothed things over, but just as he was putting on his suit, he was called back into work.
He sat on the bed, tie half done, Samantha talking to him from the ensuite where she was finishing up her makeup.
She sounded so excited about their evening he could barely bring himself to tell her.
Had he really expected Samantha to tolerate the interruptions, the long distance, all the waiting around for him? Building his career was something he thought of as important for both of them. For their future, but he’d let her down by not being there, and now….
He still had no idea how to process any of it. Blocking it all out, pushing it down, was the best strategy he’d found so far.
But Jess wasn’t Samantha. She was a stranger.
“Just two strangers sharing a bed,” he whispered to himself. That wasn’t weird at all. Nate pushed both hands through his hair in the stress response that had become more frequent recently.
Although, he mused, sharing a bed with a stranger fit with the ‘out of character’ theme.
He’d never been a hookup kind of guy. Samantha had said something about it once.
On their second date, after a long conversation late into the night, she’d told him he was someone designed to go deep.
He’d worried she’d meant he was too serious, not fun enough, but she was right.
He invested 100% into everything he did: long hours at work, making sure he was thorough; socially, he struggled to do light conversations about the weather; and in love, he was loyal and, once he fell in love, he fell hard.
Perhaps if he had been a more carefree kind of person, losing Samantha wouldn’t hurt so badly. Packing up and flying to New Zealand to be in a television series was the most carefree thing he’d ever done. At least it looked that way.
Nate shrugged. What would his character in the show do?
Doctor Raynard would have no problem sharing a bed with a stranger.
His television character would try to seduce her, in classic James Bond style, using his smooth English accent and charm to work his way into her arms. A true 1950s entitled man.
There was a lot to dislike about playing Raynard. He was meant to be slightly villainous, and after delivering certain sexist lines Nate often felt like washing his mouth out with soap, but at least it was different. A distraction.
Rinsing his plate and Jess’s in the sink, he tidied up the takeaway containers before heading into the hallway. Hovering at the bedroom door, he remembered the awkward underwear encounter the previous night and decided it safest to knock first.
“Are you ready for me to come in?” That sounded ridiculous. He rubbed his forefinger and thumb across his eyebrows and opened the door a crack.
Jess groaned in annoyance. “Of course I am. I was asleep.”
“Sorry. I was just cleaning—”
“Shhh, sleeping,” Jess mumbled, rolling over and facing away from him. The room was dark, but the beam of light from the hallway illuminated her smooth bare shoulder, and the dip and rise of her body under the sheets. She was beautiful.
Nate quickly lowered his eyes and hunted in the closet for his pyjama bottoms. Finding them, he returned to the bathroom to get changed and ready for bed.
He preferred to sleep in nothing but underwear, but thankfully he’d packed pyjamas in case he was sharing a hotel room.
He hadn’t imagined sharing a bed with a gorgeous woman, though.
By the time he returned, Jess’s breathing had deepened into a soft snore.
He switched off the hall light and, in the darkness, carefully built a wall of pillows down the middle of the bed, testing to make sure it was sturdy, then slipped between the sheets as silently as possible.
He turned his back to the pillow wall and closed his eyes.
A soft wind blew outside and, as he’d now come to expect and appreciate, the quiet, enveloping blackness of the rural area dragged him into a deep, dreamless sleep.