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26
The next few days were a bit of a blur, in the best possible way. They’d enjoyed Saturday together in Jen’s shop, Holly offering to work a full shift even though Jen couldn’t pay her. It was a good thing, too, because the shop had been exceptionally busy. Holly was brilliant on the upsell and Jen’s eyes had bugged at the day’s total.
She’d caught herself slipping into a daydream as she watched Holly with the customers. She was just so natural: there was no pushy sales pitch, no falseness. Just Holly, being Holly. Jen’s heart could have burst.
Sunday, they’d somehow managed to be apart during opening hours, with Holly only coming round for tea. Jen had even cooked between their extracurricular activities, much to Holly’s amusement. ‘Just because my fridge is empty, doesn’t mean I don’t know my way around the kitchen!’ Vegetarian wasn’t her forte but Holly was pleased with her attempt at spinach and ricotta cannelloni, and that was all that mattered.
Monday followed with a day in bed, both at terms with Holly spending the evening with her parents. She’d barely seen them all week.
That was, until Catherine had declared there was more than enough roast dinner for Jen to join them too. And who was she to argue with that?
‘This is so weird,’ Holly said, adjusting the pillows behind her.
‘What is?’ Jen asked, propping herself up on one elbow. So this was Holly Taylor’s bedroom. When she’d imagined Holly’s abode she couldn’t have been more wrong. The Taylors lived in a beautiful period property just on the edge of Langside, not far from Shawlands. It was graced with high ceilings, original features, more fireplaces you could shake a stick at, and as the pièce de résistance, Harry had even installed his own bar downstairs.
It was obvious Holly hadn’t been back for long; it lacked any real personal presence. But little items remained, proving it had once been her childhood bedroom: pin holes in walls from posters, the sun-faded lilac curtains, and the 80s-chic fitted wardrobe, complete with a vanity unit decorated with old photos, being just a few.
‘I dunno. It’s just weird, having you in my bed.’
‘You’ve been in my bed all week,’ Jen retorted, stealing a quick kiss.
‘I know, but,’ Holly sighed, placing her hands on her belly and looking at the ceiling. ‘I’ve never had anyone here.’
‘No one? What about Shona?’
Holly shook her head. ‘Nope. Not even once.’
Jen pulled a face. ‘She did meet your parents, right?’
‘A few times.’
‘In eight years?’
‘When we were up north she usually visited her parents.’
‘Still.’ She could sense Holly’s uneasiness, so changed the conversation. ‘Funny to think I knew your parents before I knew you. Your dad even had me out for a beer.’
‘No he did not!’
‘Hand on heart,’ Jen replied, placing a palm over her chest. ‘I helped him set up the deli’s POS system, so he took me for a beer.’
Holly grinned. ‘I vaguely remember him saying a lovely neighbour helped them with the till. He forgot to mention how hot they were, though,’ she said, turning onto her side to mirror Jen.
‘Might have been a bit awkward if he’s said that, no?’ Jen joked.
Holly wrinkled her nose. ‘Yeah, come to think of it. Possibly. They really never mentioned me?’
‘If they did it was nothing major. Sorry.’
Holly huffed. ‘My fault. Main thing is, I’m here now.’
‘That you are,’ Jen said, leaning in for another kiss. She didn’t make it quick this time.
Just as Jen’s hand had found its way to Holly’s right breast there was a knock at the door. They froze, as if staying still would render them invisible.
‘Yeah?’ Holly called, her lips still touching Jen’s.
‘Dinner’s ready,’ Harry chimed, thankfully not trying the door.
Only when she heard his footsteps retreat did Jen’s muscles relax.
Holly bit her bottom lip before speaking. ‘Back to yours tomorrow?’
