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“I don’t think she had much spare time when we were growing up. Since we left home—I don’t know. Our house is pretty old and takes up a lot of time. There’s always something wrong, or a room that needs decorating. She does it herself. She’s good at that kind of thing. And the garden. She loves the garden.”
“There you go. You do know what her passion is. Not everyone makes a job from what they love, but it doesn’t mean they don’t have passions in their spare time.” He handed her the pine cone and opened the car door.
She didn’t move. “What if she really has spent her whole life doing a job she doesn’t love?”
“Then that was her decision. And before you lie awake all night worrying, why don’t you wait and see how she is tomorrow? It’s possible she didn’t mean any of it.”
“What makes you think I’d lie awake all night?”
“Because I know you.”
“Right. Yes, you’re right. We know each other.” She breathed. “And I do overthink things. I’m sorry I’m tense but it’s the first time you’ve met any of my family and forgive me I would have rather it hadn’t been when my mother was drunk and slobbering all over my dad. It was all a bit horrifying.”
He laughed and pulled her into a hug. “I love your parents. And your mother reminds me a little of you.”
“Drunk?”
“Open. Friendly.” He kissed her. “Forget it. And don’t worry about your mom. She’ll be fine in the morning.”
Maggie
Maggie woke feeling as if an entire construction project was taking place in her head.
For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was, or how she’d ended up in this much pain. She remembered Nick handing her a drink in the departure lounge, and she remembered not confessing that she’d already had two gin-with-very-little-tonics before leaving home, so as not to cause raised eyebrows at her alcohol consumption while in midair. The rest of the journey had been a blur.
She wasn’t a big drinker at the best of times. On top of that, she’d been starving herself for three weeks in order to be able to look better in her clothes. The combination of gin, champagne and an empty stomach hadn’t been good.
She groaned and buried her face in the pillow. It was the softest, fluffiest pillow she’d ever laid her head on and the duvet folded around her like a cloud. She didn’t want to move, but she knew she needed water. And painkillers. Also, very possibly a doctor and access to an intensive care unit.
This couldn’t possibly be the alcohol, surely? Maybe she’d caught flu on the plane.
She felt as if she had hours to live.
“Good morning.” Nick appeared in the doorway, a glass of water in one hand and a mug in the other. The aroma of fresh coffee was enough to persuade her to lift her head from the pillow.
The movement was agonizing.
He set the mug down next to her. “How are you feeling?”
“Do you mind not shouting?” Even the comfort of the pillow couldn’t neutralize the pain in her head.
“That bad?”
“Worse. I think maybe I need a doctor. And a lawyer so I can write my will.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and held out the glass of water. “What you need,” he said, “is fluid, and then breakfast.”
Her insides churned. “My stomach disagrees.”
“Trust me, it’s the best thing. I’ll make it while you take a shower.”
Was she capable of walking to the shower?
Gingerly, she sat up. And realized she was naked.
With a squeak of embarrassment, she pulled the duvet across her breasts. “Why am I naked?”
“You insisted that was how you wanted to sleep. You said it made you feel sexy and at one with nature.”
