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15
Tate wakes to the smellof something amazing coming from his kitchen. He stretches and rolls over, smiling widely when he spots Chloe in the kitchen getting lunch ready. But then he glances out the window behind her and his stomach drops. Unless the sun is moving all skew ways, it’s well past lunchtime.
‘How long was I asleep for?’
She checks her watch and smiles at him. ‘Six hours or so. How do you feel?’
‘Mortified for starters.’ Great move to fall asleep and leave her on her own in a strange house for six hours. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—’
‘Hey. Stop that. You were tired. Did you sleep at all last night?’
‘I’m not a great sleeper at the moment. What the hell have you been doing all afternoon?’
She turns down the heat on the hob and picks up a pile of paper from the coffee table. ‘Well, I admit I was a little unsure what to do for about half an hour then decided to make myself useful. I planned what I was going to make for dinner. After that I may have stolen some paper from the office. I hope you don’t mind.’ She hands him the pages and Tate flicks through the landscapes of the view from his house.
‘You did all these while I was asleep?’
‘It’s amazing how much you can get done with no distractions. Well, apart from you snoring away in the background.’
‘Oh fuck, please don’t tell me I was snoring.’
She kisses him on the forehead before going back to their dinner.
‘Not for long.’
He places the drawings back on the table and scrubs a hand over his face. He may be pissed off that he fell asleep, but he hasn’t felt this rested in months. Lately, sleep was something he did only when he absolutely had to which was seriously off for him. Before Christmas he’d have happily slept most of the morning away. Now he’s scared of it. If he wasn’t sleeping deeply, the nightmares wouldn’t have a chance to get him. Great in theory but the practice part was falling short. He runs a hand through his hair and winces when he rubs against a cut on his scalp.
‘I had a nightmare, didn’t I.’
‘Yes, but you settled again. You started mumbling so I ran my hand over your hair until you relaxed again. My mother always did it to me when I had nightmares.’
He’s at a loss for words. Whatever she’d done, it had bought him a few hours of peace. The nightmare hadn’t really registered with him.
She gestures to the stairs. ‘Now, why don’t you grab a shower and get dressed. I’d prefer you stay naked, but I’ve gone to a lot of trouble here. I don’t want dinner ruined because you’re distracting me.’
He does as he’s told even though he’d prefer to distract her before dinner. When he comes back downstairs she’s dishing up their food. ‘Where did you get all this from?’
‘I’ve reheated the leftover pasta dish you brought back for lunch and made a sauce from bits I found in your cupboards and freezer. I hope you don’t mind.
