‘Declan. No. I…’
He trailed a line of kisses down her chest.
‘Declan. Really. No.’ She’d spoken very sharply, she realised, as he pulled away so fast that he almost scratched her.
‘Pops, I love you and it’s been seven months.’ He tried to pull her back against him and… Oh, God, she’d suddenly registered the smell again. He did smell different. He smelled like he’d been… somewhere else.
‘Sorry,’ she said flatly. ‘I can’t.’
‘Okay. Yep, great, no, of course. Sorry.’ He let go of her completely and moved along the sofa, away from her.
Oh, God. She wishedso muchthat she could say or do something to make everything better, make this whole situation go away. But the wisdom she’d need was so far from being available to her that it might as well have been locked inside Fort Knox.
So she said nothing.
‘I love you.’ Declan’s voice had entirely lost any hint of amorousness. Perhaps he’d been pretending before. ‘You must be tired. I know I am. Let’s go to bed.’
‘Great.’
When she was lying wide awake between her sleeping husband and her sleeping baby in his cot (she couldn’t bear for him to move to his own room yet), wondering how long Declan and she would still be living together, her phone buzzed with a message.
It was Georgie. She’d found a yoga class in Cirencester and booked it for the two of them, and had messaged Beth and Ankita to see if they’d like to join too.
Poppy was definitely going to go, she resolved. She couldn’t lose her girlfriends as well as her husband.
7
GEORGIE
‘Grapes. Got to do the hospital visit cliché.’ Georgie placed a large punnet of mixed green and black seedless on the side table next to Raf’s hospital bed. ‘Also…’ She checked over both shoulders for nurses or doctors and then pulled a little envelope out of her handbag. ‘Noah sent a little present to make your hospital coffee Irish. And he’s going to come in to see you tomorrow once he’s got cover.’
‘Nice.’ Raf grinned at her and pulled out the tiny bottle of whiskey Noah had sent.
‘He lookedsolongingly at it when he gave it to me,’ Georgie told him. ‘And then I saw that he’d been posting photos of zero-alcohol beer in the “Resolutions” chat.’
‘Ha. Maybe he’s hoping to live vicariously through me.’
Georgie picked up the little bottle and studied its label to distract herself from how ridiculously sexy Raf was managing to look despite being in a hospital bed. Maybe it was the way his hair was tousled and how his jaw was darkened by a day of no shaving. Or maybe it was his very seductive smile. And beautiful eyes and… She pulled her attention back to the whiskey. ‘It’sso cute. And it would make you so ill if you took it before an anaesthetic.’
‘Anaesthetics are all done,’ he said. ‘And the very nice nurse explicitly told me that it would be fine to have a little bit of alcohol while I’m on the antibiotics. So I genuinely might Irish-up my coffee.’
‘Okay, good,’ Georgie said, relieved. ‘I would not feel happy if I inadvertently helped to kill you.’
‘Other than sending me up the ladder?’
‘Okay, I don’t want to nearly kill you twice in two days.’ She sat down on the chair at the side of his bed and gestured at the white-pole-hung TV above him. ‘What were you watching?’
‘Darts. There aren’t a lot of channels available and that was my best option.’
Georgie stared at the TV for a moment. ‘Wow. It’s quite…’
‘Yeah, boring, unless you’re big into darts. I am therefore very pleased to see you and your grapes and whiskey.’
‘I’m going to pretend that’s a compliment.’
‘Not joking,’ Raf said generously, ‘I’d even be pleased to see you if I’d had some snooker to watch.’
‘Wow, thank you. I’m truly flattered. So how’s your hand feeling?’
