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We left Cian with Mary. A mother in her forties, she filled me with confidence, and this wasn’t a first. Audrey had also done the odd spot of babysitting for me.
It was a lovely summery afternoon as we ambled along. The sun shimmered through wispy, golden-green branches. An addictive earthy scent seemed to rise from the ground, and the salty breeze slapped my skin with a healthy glow.
We arrived at a honey-coloured cottage. The garden alone made me sigh as lavender, roses, and violets perfumed the air, while a heart-warming picture of me reading a book on the lace iron bench fired my imagination.
The house’s façade made from local rocks must have been at least two hundred years old. Sunlight glistened on the red door, like some omen hinting at an enchanted cottage. I wanted to hide the For Sale sign so that no-one else would buy it.
“How much is it?” I asked.
Theadora pulled out her phone and typed. A second later, it beeped back.
“Who are you texting?” I already knew the answer, but weakened by my love of that house, I remained in quiet suspense.
While we walked down that sleepy lane, Theadora’s positivity had rubbed off on me. I’d decided to call Ethan and have him ravage me first, then we could come to some arrangement—like him fucking me senseless on a regular basis in return for us sharing our son. But I couldn’t imagine going without Cian for two nights.
Maybe Ethan could stay with us for those two nights? My heart liked that idea. A lot. My head, however, was another story. A lobotomy maybe? I chuckled at myself.
“Why are you laughing?” Theadora asked.
“I’m just trying to talk myself into believing I can experience domestic bliss.”
“But you can. From one woman who’s married to a seriously handsome billionaire, let me say it’s worth it. And Ethan’s a good person.”
“I know he is.” I smiled. “I just keep confusing him with that sex-addict teenager he once was.”
“Yep. I get it. I would have hated to have known Declan while he was getting around with lots of girls.”
I loved Theadora. She was such a good friend.
“So, the price?” I asked.
Her stretched mouth told me it wasn’t cheap. “One million pounds.”
“Wow. It’s not very big.”
“But it is.” She gave me her phone, and I stood under the giant peppercorn tree that graced the front garden.
The back extended into a large yard. The kitchen looked modern. The bathroom was cheery and spacious. And a staircase led to another floor hidden from the front view.
Just as I visualised Cian playing in a tree house in the back garden, an older woman greeted us. “Are you interested in my home?” she asked.
I nodded, despite the unaffordable price tag.
She stretched out her arm. “Come in. Let me show you around.”
An uplifting aroma of baked sweets welcomed us in as we stepped into the living room. French doors opened onto a garden with a pond surrounded by blooms and sleepy trees, just like a Monet. I envisioned sitting there, sipping coffee.
A large open fireplace sat in the middle of the room that had retained its original etched detail, making the space warm and welcoming. Light flooded in from everywhere, and the view into the back garden made that room seem much larger.
The bedroom with its turquoise wall took my breath away, as did the bathroom that came with a checked floor, a pale-pink bathtub with clawed feet, and mid-tone pink walls giving it romantic appeal.
I floated off in love.
“Oh my god, Mirabel. You’ve got to buy it.”
Theadora’s gushing enthusiasm summed up how I felt.
“I haven’t got that kind of money.”
