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“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Chelsea says.
“If you insist.” I lift my arm, my phone still in my hand.
“Lucian, don’t.”
Chelsea appears beside me and her fingers pull at the sleeve of my jacket. She’s standing so close, so damn close. I push my phone into my pocket. Clearing my throat, I loosen my tie. “Get dressed. I’m taking you out for dinner.”
Chelsea laughs and holds out her arms. “This is all I have.”
Although the Hazelwood Farm T-shirt and skimpy shorts are somewhat appealing, they are not the right attire for the place I have in mind. “I’ll take you shopping first.”
“Thanks, Lucian, but no. I really have to tidy the flat.”
Again, she doesn’t want me to spend money on her. I won’t if that’s what she wants. I remember seeing a little café on the street corner. “What about Timms café?” I turn, and find Chelsea on her hands and knees gathering cleaning products. “That is unnecessary. I have arranged for a local cleaning company to come out and take care of the mess.”
I fish out my pocket watch and look at the time. I was meant to be viewing a plot of land in Bristol this afternoon, but I will send Josh instead. “I have a few hours free,” I lie. I make my way toward Chelsea and hold out my hand for her to take. “If you won’t let me take you shopping, or out to a swanky restaurant, I guess I could lower my impeccably high standards and join you at the local café. What do you say?”
My comment was intended as a joke, but Chelsea doesn’t laugh. I’m leaning forward with my hand poised in front of her as I wait for her to take me up on my offer. I clear my throat and Chelsea glances up. “You don’t understand, Lucian. Ihaveto clean.”
My arm falls to my side. “I don’t understand.” My gaze follows her hand. Her skin is bright red and split in places. Her right hand appears redder, particularly in the place she’s holding the rag. “Let the cleaning company do it.”
“I can’t!”
I take a few steps back and take in everything in front of me—the mountain of cleaning products, and the frantic way she scrubs at the carpet.
“Now you’ve seen crazy Chelsea doing what she does best, you can leave.”
I side-eye the door, which is open. Without a word I head toward the door and push it shut. I pull my arms out of my jacket and hang it on the coat hooks in the small hallway.
Chelsea’s eyebrows knit together. “What are you doing?”
I unfasten the buttons around my wrists and roll up my shirt sleeves so the fabric hugs my elbows. “What’s it look like?” I advance toward the kitchen and grab a bottle from the worktop. “I’m helping you clean.”
A smile tugs at Chelsea’s lips, and she lets out a small chuckle.
“What’s so funny? Not seen a posh boy clean up before?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?” I say, crouching down and joining her on the carpet.
She nods her head toward the bottle in my hand. “That’s the de-icer for the car.”
I laugh, and for once she laughs along with me. I get to my feet and sift through the cleaning products. I narrow my eyes to read the small print to work out exactly what each bottle is used for. Maybe I’d be more useful first throwing all the empty beer bottles away. I tear off a bin liner from the roll and open up the bag. With my back toward her I proceed in tossing the rubbish in.
“Lucian,” she calls.
“Yes, Chelsea?”
Her eyes sparkle in a way I’ve never seen before. She nibbles on her lower lip for a beat before smiling. “Thank you.”
Chelsea
Friday soon comes around, and after a long day at work I find myself in Starlight bridal shop.
“How do I look?” Amber asks. My sister is standing in front of three floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Pouting, she turns left and then right. Her focus is on her protruding stomach.
“Beautiful,” I say, taking a seat on the plush leather sofa. Laid out neatly on the small glass table to my right is a selection of finger foods and canapés. A bottle of wine and a jug of non-alcoholic cocktail wait for us after the fitting.
