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Chapter 14

“Mary’s got some Airbnb bookings coming up over Christmas and New Year so I’m going to need to move back to Plymouth for a while from next week. I can book the flat above the bookshop again from about 6 January though, I think.” Dylan was closing up the coffee shop a week later after a nicely busy Saturday.

“It must be costing you a fortune.”

“Mary’s doing me a good deal.”

“But that on top of paying the mortgage on your own place until it sells.”

“I don’t have a mortgage,” Dylan said.

“Oh.”

“I paid it off a few years ago. So . . . are you all right with me booking in with Mary for longer? I’ll start looking properly for my own place near here in the new year. I’ve been putting some feelers out, but nothing’s showing up yet; it is the slowest time of the year for the housing market though.”

“Why don’t you just stay here . . . until you find a place?” Lucy suddenly found herself saying.

“What?”

“It’s silly you wasting so much money on rent next door. You may as well be here, you hang out here all the time anyway, and there’s the spare bedroom . . .”

“Is this just so I’ll keep cooking for you?” Dylan asked.

“Yes,” Lucy said. “The baby likes your food.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. They definitely like it . . . OK!” Lucy was laughing now. “I know what you mean — and yes, just until you find a place.”

“OK.” Dylan nodded and laughed too.

“It probably makes sense for you to bring your stuff over now, rather than just going back and forth for the next few days?”

“That does make sense. You going to come and give me a hand bringing things over?”

“Sure,” said Lucy. Their eyes met and her cheeks felt hot. She was being sensible. This made sense. He was around here all the time anyway . . .

She got up and they went down into the coffee shop, out into the cold December air and into the bookshop, where Mary and Carrie were talking behind the counter. The bookshop was looking extra specially cosy with its table lamps dotted around providing gentle light. Tabitha the cat looked up, but clearly didn’t deem them interesting enough to bother getting up for. Her daughter, Katniss, was friendlier and came trotting over for a stroke.

“Hey, you two,” said Mary.

“Hi,” said Dylan. “We’ve just come to pack up my things. Lucy’s begged me to move in with her, so I’m very sorry, but I’ll be leaving your fine establishment.”

Mary and Carrie’s mouths fell open at the same time as Lucy’s.

“That is not what happened!” Lucy exclaimed.

Dylan took her hand and led her through the door to the stairway going up to the flat above the bookshop. The sound of Mary and Carrie laughing followed them up the stairs.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Lucy hissed as she marched up the stairs ahead of him.

“You have to admit it was funny,” he protested. “Their faces!”

Lucy harrumphed.

Dylan opened the door to the flat. “You’ve kept it a lot tidier than I thought you would,” Lucy commented, glancing around.

“I’m a tidy person,” Dylan said, putting the kettle on. He signalled to her to take a seat on one of the stools by the kitchen island.