Chapter 19
I WAKE TO find us so close together I can feel his slow, deep breaths on my skin.
Our carefully constructed barrier failed at some point during the night—the pillows are scattered across the bed.
It’s early, the sun is barely a whisper of light through the windows.
I should roll over and try to go back to sleep.
I don’t. Instead, I watch Adam, wondering what he’s dreaming about and why it’s making him look slightly pained.
I desperately want to reach over and smooth the lines creasing his forehead. Or loosen the fingers gripping the corner of his pillow. My hand hovers over his, my pinkie grazing his knuckles, his skin warm, soft, perfectly strokable.
His eyes flick open and I yank my hand back.
‘What,’ he croaks, his voice thick with sleep. He rubs his eyes and reaches for the glasses folded on his notebook on the bedside table.
‘You were muttering in your sleep and I thought you were talking to me,’ I say, wincing at how pathetic that lie is, and how it has nothing to do with me touching his hand.
‘I was muttering in my sleep,’ he repeats slowly, tugging at the blanket.
‘Yup.’ I pull the blanket back to me. ‘You were saying something about how much you love muffins.’
‘We both know I’d never say that, Sabrina.’
His voice, so deep and gravelly and morning-esque, is quite possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. And now I’m thinking of his hand gliding along my thigh as he tells me of all the ways he’s going to make me lose my mind. My fingers curl, gripping the sheet.
‘It must be your subconscious trying to tell you something,’ I say, voice strained.
‘My subconscious is not telling me to eat a muffin.’ He tosses the blanket off him and climbs out of bed.
‘You’re naked,’ I say, sitting up with the blanket pulled tight against my flushed skin.
What happened to the T-shirt he wears to bed?
It’s grey and has a lion on the front. Staring at his bare chest, those thoughts about all the ways he’d make me lose my mind multiply.
My legs turn to liquid. My throat goes dry.
I need some freaking air. ‘I thought we agreed on no nudity.’
He clears his throat and I tear my gaze away from the smattering of hair across his pale skin. ‘Did we?’ he asks, a trace of humour in his voice as he switches on the coffee machine.
‘It was implied.’
He taps the navy boxers that hug his hips and a desperate ache flows through me. ‘This isn’t nudity,’ he says.
‘Well, maybe I’ll sleep naked and see how you like it.’
His teaspoon clangs against the mug. ‘Well,’ he says slowly. ‘Maybe you should.’
The words are a whisper that hangs dangerously in the air.
The teaspoon moves vigorously through the liquid flowing into the mug.
I stare at his back, at the muscles tightening through his shoulders.
I have no words, no snappy comeback, nothing.
If his aim was to silence me, he deserves a gold star.
If his aim though was to…to what? Get me naked?
I shake my head. That absolutely was not his aim.
I’m the one with all the scandalous thoughts racing through my head while he sleeps with a pained expression on his face next to me.
At a loss for how to deal with the crackling tension I jump from the bed and lock myself in the bathroom.
I take a long shower, hoping to wash away every thought of him and his voice and his hands and everything.
I’m in there so long that by the time I come out, he’s gone. I head over to the manor and greet Mum and Aunt Carol with a kiss on the cheek. Mum pours me a coffee while Aunt Carol fills a plate with eggs, bacon, baked beans and toast. I take it even though I’m not a huge breakfast eater.
‘Why don’t we take this outside to eat?’ Mum asks. ‘The air here is so much crisper than back home.’
Aunt Carol nods in agreement. Since we’re all about pleasing Mum, I nod along too, even though the air seems no different to me.
To prove her point, Mum inhales loudly when we step outside. ‘Crisp,’ she says.
We sit at the table in the paved courtyard, surrounded by yew hedges, rose bushes and rustling crabapple trees. Clouds hang over us, dampening the air with the sweet tang of rain that is on its way.
‘It is beautiful here,’ I say and bite into a piece of toast spread thick with butter and blackberry jam. ‘And this jam,’ I add with a happy sigh. Screw it, I’m now a breakfast eater.
‘Should I add English jam to the list?’ Mum asks.
I swallow my mouthful. ‘What list?’
‘The funeral list,’ Aunt Carol says. ‘Dianne wants input.’
Mum stirs sugar into her milky white tea, the teaspoon clinking against the pale blue teacup like heavy raindrops on a tin roof. ‘It’s my funeral and I want it done right.’
Clink. Clink. Clink.
My appetite gone, I toss the piece of toast back on the plate and cross my arms over my churning stomach.
Why are they talking about her funeral like it’s no big deal?
This isn’t a tea party or weekend getaway they’re planning.
It’s a funeral. Mum’s funeral. A funeral that’s not going to happen for many years because she’s in remission.
We threw a remission party and everything.
‘Look, there’s Adam,’ Mum says. ‘Isn’t he a good boy for running while he’s on holiday?’
Good boy? She says it like he’s a dog who has fetched the ball she’s thrown.
‘Is that?’ Mum squints. ‘That’s Natalia with him.’ A frown crosses her face.
I spin in my chair. With all my indecent thoughts about Adam over the past however many hours I’d forgotten Tommy saying Natalia was joining him for a run this morning.
The two of them have slowed to a walk, looking every bit the gorgeous athletic pair.
The churning in my stomach morphs into a raging cyclone.
Natalia’s laugh drifts over to us, and when she puts a hand to his arm and laughs again, I feel my whole body seize up.
Adam doesn’t crack jokes so either she’s putting it on to stroke his ego or he’s relaxed enough around her to whip out a funny anecdote. I don’t know what’s worse.
Natalia heads for the side entrance to the manor. Once she’s safely inside, Mum’s arm shoots into the air. ‘Adam!’
He jogs over to us, T-shirt drenched with sweat and clinging to his chest. A chest I feel as though I now know intimately after studying it this morning. I gulp at my coffee, yelping as it scalds my tongue.
‘Small sips, Sabrina.’ Mum pats my back as she continues to wave Adam over. ‘Sit down,’ she orders when he reaches the table. ‘You must be hungry after your run.’
‘Oh no, that’s okay. I’ll shower first.’
‘Don’t be silly. You need to eat.’ Mum bustles back inside and Adam follows like a well-trained dog.
I guess she wasn’t wrong in calling him a good boy. Inside I can hear him protesting and it almost makes me laugh that he thinks he stands a chance against her.
‘You’ll feel so much better after eating this,’ Mum says to him as she rejoins us outside, carrying a plate that’s barely visible under the mountain of food.
Adam sheepishly follows her and sits beside me. ‘I can’t go on today’s excursion, Dianne,’ he says.
Mum flaps a hand at him. ‘Oh, no, you don’t want to miss today.’
‘I need to stay here and work.’
‘There’ll be plenty of time for that,’ she says. ‘Bill said he’d share a secret about the scene in the cave. You can’t miss that, Adam.’
‘I’m sure Sabrina can fill me in.’
‘Oh, that won’t be the same. What if Sabrina doesn’t relay everything Bill says?’
‘I think I’ll—’ I start and then swallow my words at the firm set to Mum’s mouth.
‘These excursions have been meticulously planned,’ Mum says. ‘Having someone sit out will throw the balance off.’
‘But since I was a last-minute—’
‘Plus, you’ve been included in the catering for lunch, and I’d hate to waste a meal,’ Mum says, cutting Adam off.
‘And,’ she continues when his mouth opens again.
‘The caves are spectacular. Think of all the inspiration you’ll get for your books.
Make sure you bring your camera and get lots of photos.
You know, Bill said that these caves alone are worth the trip here. I can’t let you miss them.’
Adam’s shoulders sag. He’s catching on quick. What Dianne wants, Dianne gets.
Mum pats his hand. ‘You’re really putting us all to shame with your morning runs, Adam. You should get Sabrina out with you. She enjoys a run.’
I inhale so sharply that air lodges in my throat and I spiral into a coughing fit as I attempt to clear it.
Everyone at this table, Adam included, knows I loathe running and, despite his insistence that we pretend it’s a mutual interest of ours, we haven’t thrown it out there to the family.
Mum may as well just come right out and say that Natalia is a threat and unless I glue myself to Adam’s side, I’m going to lose him.
Adam pushes the food around his plate. ‘I like to start every day with a run if I can,’ he says, ignoring Mum’s suggestion of me running with him.
‘Even on holiday?’ Aunt Carol asks with a shake of her head. ‘That’s so disciplined.’
‘Did you go away with your family a lot, Adam?’ Mum asks, her lips pursed as she studies him over her teacup.
I pick at my toast, eyes darting to the side to watch him.
He cuts a piece of bacon. ‘No, we didn’t travel much.’
‘We always encouraged our kids to get out and see the world. Gabi and Tommy have done a lot of travelling. France, Spain, Greece, Italy. And Gabi did that trip to Japan to meet Reese’s relatives.
And South Korea when they adopted Amelia.
’ She runs her hand over my hair, smoothing the flyaway strands.
‘You know, I’ve always said travel is an important part of life. ’
Shrinking down in my seat, I scowl. The only trips I’ve been on that required a passport included my parents and required their financial assistance.