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“Yes, please. Do we have any bread? I know we ran out yesterday.”
“That’s because you ate four slices of toast before bed last night.”
“Are you judging me, Christopher? Didn’t your wife ever tell you there are five days every month that you simply smile and hand a woman whatever food she wants?”
He chuckled, picking up the teapot. “There’s a fresh loaf in the bread bin. The bakery made a delivery an hour ago.”
I eyed him. “Does that mean there are other yummy things for me to eat?”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “I have, however, hidden some of them.”
“That’s rude,” I muttered. “I’m telling your wife.”
He laughed and set my tea on the kitchen island. “Elin mentioned that you’d met. She said Ceri almost took you out.”
“Not quite. She was rather enthusiastic, though. Thank you,” I said, pulling the tea closer, then headed for the bread bin to fulfil my hormone-fuelled need for carbohydrates.
Or attempt to, that was.
My phone buzzed again.
“Oh, balls. I forgot to text Matthew back.” I grabbed it, ignoring Christopher’s laugh, and checked the messages.
MATTHEW: Hello? Did you get distracted by toast again?
ME: It’s like you WANT me to cry.
MATTHEW: Bloody hell, Eva. What a time to bounce out of a conversation.
ME: Flipping heck, calm down. Yes, I’m getting toast, or I’ll turn into a psycho bitch.
MATTHEW: Turn into?
ME: I know where you sleep, you wanker.
MATTHEW: It’s a bit of a turn on when you’re feisty like that.
ME: I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.
I put the phone back down to the tune of my two slices of toast popping.
Look, I was a lady.
I ate my loaf of bread in groups of two slices, all right?
It gave the illusion I was a civilised human being.
Mostly.
It wasn’t quite brown enough, so I pushed the lever back down for another minute.
My phone buzzed again, this time for a call. I knew without looking that it was Matthew. I made a ‘pish’ noise and flapped my hand at it.
Christopher eyed it. “Shouldn’t you get that?”
“Nope,” I replied. “He’s annoying me.”
He took a step back.
I popped the toast manually, smirking. “Am I scaring you, Christopher?”
“I’ve always found it wise to step away from my wife whenever it was her time of the month,” he said morosely. “We fell into somewhat of a rhythm where I would walk in, drop snacks, and quietly leave again.”
“You are an extremely smart man. Teach Matthew, please. I’ll even pay you.”
He laughed. “He’s calling again.”
“He can keep calling. He should use his brain.” I grabbed the slice of toast that had big melty puddles of butter and bit into it.
Mm.
Toast.
Ffion walked into the kitchen with Lucy on her heels and looked around, snorting when she saw me eating toast again.
“Do not,” I said, holding a finger up. “I took a test.”
She raised her eyebrows. “And?”
“You’ll have to keep waiting. It was negative. Not even a hint of a line. It was emphatically no, thank you very much.”
“Shame. Are you late?”
“No.”
“Have you started yet?”
“No.”
“Then there’s still a chance I’m right.”
“No. I am not pregnant.”
The woman was nuts.
My phone buzzed for the third time.
“I’m sorry, Eva, I simply cannot stand that noise anymore.” Christopher picked up my phone, swiped on the screen, and held it up to his ear. “Hello, Eva’s phone, Christopher speaking.”
Did he just answer my phone?
“It’s Matthew,” I said to Ffion. “He’s irritating me asking stupid questions.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Unfortunately, that’s a trait handed down the male line in this family.”
“No, she’s busy,” Christopher said. “Yes, she is eating toast. She said you’re annoying her… Uh-huh… All right.” He held the phone out to me. “He wants to talk to you.”
“I assumed that is the reason for him calling my phone,” I said dryly. “Luckily for him, I’ve finished my toast.”
“For now,” Ffion sang, opening the fridge.
I frowned at her. “PMS,” I shot back.
“No, it’s nooooot!”
I grabbed the phone from Christopher and put it to my ear. “What?”
“Whoa,” Matthew said, the line crackling from his exhale. “Did your butter not melt properly on your toast?”
“I swear to God, Matthew, I will—”
“Not in the mood for joking I see.”
I reached for my tea. “This is why premenstrual women can claim insanity as valid reasons for murder.”
He laughed, and I swore there was a snigger from Ffion at the fridge.
What was she doing in there?
“You didn’t text me back, so I wanted to know why you had the tests.”
I was not going to roll my eyes.
I was not going to roll my eyes.
I was not going to roll my eyes.
I rolled my eyes.
“They were a pre-emptive purchase,” I replied. “Also, they were on sale, and if you know how expensive those flipping things are, you’d have bought them, too.”
“Oh. Well, that makes sense.” He paused. “What time is Adelaide arriving?”
“This afternoon, I think. About three.”
“All right. Ivan left me a message, too, to call him back.”
