I needed to get my head on straight.
“Very pretty,” Agata said from right behind me.
I jerked so hard my knee slammed into my desk. “Christ!” I clutched a hand to my chest. The sneaky little ninja.
“So jumpy, Mister Charlie.” She set down a fresh cup of tea. I hadn’t even noticed mine had gone cold.
“Thank you,” I told her.
“You spend too long on that computer.”
“Good morning, Agata. Why yes, I’m fine this lovely day. And how are you?”
She clicked her tongue at my sarcasm and walked to the window behind me. Without asking, she tugged the curtains open and let the light pour in. I fought to keep from hissing like a vampire.
“How you know it’s lovely? Or morning?” She snorted. “You are getting pasty,” she added.
“I’m British.”
“Is no excuse.”
Maybe I had been spending too much time online reading Kate’s stories and our email exchanges. But I lived to see the little message indicator. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this excited about anything.
“Pretty girl,” Agata said again from directly over my shoulder, blatantly looking at my screen. “Girlfriend?”
I snapped my laptop closed. “No. She’s an American.”
“So? You can do the face screen calls. You can do the camera phone sex.”
“I … don’t think …” A thousand images popped into my brain that I really didn’t want to have with a tiny Polish woman standing right behind me. “Is there something you needed?”
“I need you to get out of house more. You are always here.”
I stared at her. “You want me to leave my own house?”
“Go outside. Get a dog. A girlfriend. Go meet American woman. You are always here. Always underfoot looking sad. I need to get things done.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but she was right. I was supposed to be moving forward with my life. Not replacing one obsession with another. I was falling for a woman I didn’t even know. A woman I could never know because I could never reveal the truth of who I was without risking her going to the press, or worse, thinking I was a perv. A relationship would never work, especially since I’d shared almost nothing about myself, and she had been so open and giving from the start.
I sighed and pushed back out of the chair. A response to her last message could wait.
The weather in Devon was pretty mild for England this time of year, and so even though it was overcast, it wasn’t too chilly. I tugged on my wellies and mac and decided to stroll around the countryside looking for inspiration. I was moving forward, getting healthy, and staying steady.
It was decided. No more messages.
5
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: CALL ME DADDY
Kate,
You would not believe the morning I’ve had. I was unceremoniously kicked out of the Vicarage this morning by Agata after being told I needed a life. (She isn’t entirely wrong.) I had wandered past the grounds of my estate when the heavens opened up and drenched me. Typical English karma.
I was sprinting home to get out of the rain, looking rather like a drowned rat, when I passed the neighbour’s. A small cardboard box was sat at the end of his drive, slowly dissolving in the rain. As I got closer, the box made sad little chirps and peeps. Inside were the most pitiful looking creatures I’d ever seen.
