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Nick flings his arms wide. “Don’t I at least get a hug?”
I shake my head and take a step back. “Please, don’t get too close, darling. I don’t want you to catch my germs. This thing I’ve got is really nasty and—”
Before I can finish, he catches me in his arms. “I don’t care about your germs,” he whispers. “You can give them all to me.” Then he crushes his lips against mine and consumes me with a ferocity that makes my knees tremble. It’s like he’s starving; like he can’t get enough of me. Lost in his embrace, I lose all sanity, all sense of self.
Feeling light-headed, I manage to pull away; I’m terrified I might have given him my cold.
“I-I need to find that vase,” I murmur.
He slips his arm around my waist and guides me to the door. “Don’t worry about the vase. Go and rest; I’ll take care of everything.”
Reluctantly, I return upstairs and dive under my quilt. As I try to get comfortable, I hear sounds of cupboards opening and closing, the kettle boiling, the clatter of pots and pans.
Just what is he up to?
A short while later, Nick enters my room carrying a tray of cough mixture, bread, soup and tea. I smile indulgently; what a lovely surprise. As he rests the tray on my bedside cabinet, his eyes dart about the room with lively curiosity. My cheeks redden. I wonder what he makes of my dolls and posters, my cray-cray cartoon collection. I worry he’ll think I’m a complete weirdo.
If he does, he certainly doesn’t show it. After giving everything a thorough onceover, the only comment he makes is that I have eclectic taste. I choose to take that as a compliment. With a pleasant smile, he peruses my dresser and picks up a photograph of my mother and me.
“How old are you here?” he asks.
“About eight.”
“Where was it taken?”
“Cornwall. It was one of our first family holidays.”
“Your mother looks a lot like you.”
“Really?” I raise my eyebrows. “Do you think so? Most people say I resemble my father more.”
“No, I can definitely see your mother in you. What a beautiful little girl you were.”
My blush deepens. “Thanks. Do you have any baby pictures? I’d love to see what you looked like. I bet you were really cute.”
“Yes, I suppose I was. I don’t really keep many pictures, but one day I’ll fish out my old photo album to show you.” Still smiling, he puts the photo back. Then he kicks off his shoes, removes his coat and hangs it up in my wardrobe. As he does so, he fumbles through the pockets and retrieves a small black jewellery box.
“I bought you a present,” he grins.
Squealing with delight, I take the box from him and carefully open it.
I cup one hand over my mouth. Inside the box is a heart-shaped diamond pendant on a delicate silver chain.
“Oh, wow!” I gasp. “This is gorgeous.”
“It belonged to my mother. Used to be one of her favourite pieces.”
I shake my head incredulously. “Nick, I can’t take this. It’s much too nice for me. It wouldn’t feel right.”
“But I want you to have it. I want you to carry it with you always, as something to remind you of just how much you mean to me.”
I hesitate, mulling it over. Finally, I accept. “Thank you. No one has ever been so good to me. I promise to treasure it forever.”
He beams happily. “Here, let me put it on for you.”
I feel slightly giddy as he comes to the bed and gently fastens the pendant around my neck.
“Perfect!” he exclaims.
