#evans fic

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” came Martha’s exasperated response, hands gripped tightly onto her hips as she did her very best to attempt a more aggressive stance than she was altogether comfortable with. “Months of hard work and now it’s done, just like that?” 

She wasn’t sure why she was even questioning it. She could believe it – and expect it – as it had been the case for her on more than one occasion over the last 12 months and she was getting tired of it. She was getting tired of being side-lined.

“I’m sorry. The decision has been made and it’s for your own safety.”

“But what could have possibly changed in the last twenty-four hours?”

It was a valid question and for a brief moment she felt a surge of confidence in her frustration.

Tanner, the shortish, greying intellectual currently sat behind the broad desk that separated them like a protective barrier, appeared resolute in his decision. Even if he had doubts, he wouldn’t let them show. His posture remained relaxed as he leaned back in his leather recliner having barely flinched or moved in the time since she had barged into his office, disappointment etched across her fine features, staring him down like he had just insulted her grandmother. Instead, he regarded her respectfully and with some semblance of understanding of her disappointment at being frozen out yet again from a mission she had worked very hard on. It made her feel a little guilty at her verbal outburst although he had probably heard much, much worse in his forty-plus years with the CIA. He himself had told her as much.

She wasn’t sure if this apparent show of empathy was a good or a bad thing. It certainly didn’t serve to make her feel any better. Deep down, she knew Tanner knew what he was doing. He always gave considered thought to the decisions he made; he wouldn’t be where he was now if he hadn’t. Even deeper down, she knew she wasn’t going to succeed in changing his mind.

“You know as well as I do that intel can change with no notice.” He explained calmly in his soft, Texan drawl. “It’s never ideal to change the format of a mission at any stage of the play but we do what we have to do with what we are given. The team has reason to believe that Haltzar is shifting gear and making a move to exit this Friday night. If we don’t get him then, our chances at ever bringing in Haltzar disappear in the dark, and his little black book goes with him.”

She could appreciate the nuances that went into a plan like this. In just eighteen months, Martha had gone from being a well-liked but rather inconsequential (her words) doctor at Newman & Grey Hospital, working all the shifts she could manage to avoid being home alone with only her thoughts for company, to a valued member of a CIA ‘Special Ops’ Unit that specialised in dealing with situations far beyond the capabilities of ordinary law enforcement. Or so she thought she was.

She listened to Tanner letting her down gently like she was being told she couldn’t have the bike she wanted for Christmas. She also couldn’t shake the feeling this was yet another attempt by Chris Evans to phase her out. She realised she appeared like she was throwing a tantrum because she couldn’t get her own way. It was embarrassing and it made her feel like shit. It wasn’t what she was aiming for when she woke up earlier that morning.

“Listen, Martha, this is in no way a reflection of your work but some people have expressed concern that your being there would draw unwanted attention-”

“-Some people? You mean Chris-”

“-Especially if a member of Haltzar’s crew recognises you from their own intel.” Tanner finished his argument, choosing to ignore hers. “We can’t forget they have been here a long time. They will have scoped the place out for themselves, several times, and if they see you at the hospital, the whole game is up and we’ll have lost nearly eighteen months of work for nothing. I’d like to see you try to explain that to Homeland Security.”

Martha paused in her tracks and tried to avoid Tanner’s careful, sympathetic gaze. Shaking her head in defeat, she loosened her hands from her hips and let them fall limply to her side as she took on board Tanner’s reasoning. Just as she was about to express an apology for her blatant lapse of professionalism in the face of a man who could probably buy and sell what was left of her own family, a lowly whistle came from somewhere close behind her.

Stood still in the corner of Tanner’s office, one boot resting on the panelled wall as though he gave not one care for the probable cost of having his dusty Size 12s scratch the paint off, Chris murmured his disapproval of Martha. She couldn’t quite bring herself to acknowledge his presence, though, preferring to leave him brooding quietly as she attempted to make her way out of the office unscathed.

Even now, after he had sullenly made himself known, she preferred not having to deal with the sight of his smug face at this time of the morning. She could sense him, though. You could always sense when Evans was nearby so it was a complete and utter joke that Tanner was now claiming that she might be the one who would draw attention.

“Well, I would probably call into question the reasons why some people might see me being there as a problem.” She stated matter-of-factly, the words coming out of her mouth before she had the time to edit them. Or stop them altogether as she was quickly wishing she could.

“I’m right here, McLachlan.” Came his bristly tone in response, clearly having had enough of her obstinance.

“Yes, I know, Chris. It’s very hard to miss you.” She snapped, finally conceding to him. All she got in return was a dismissive glare. It only served to wind her up even more.

“Then ask me directly.”

She looked at him again but chose to bite her tongue, not wanting to rise to his bait.

“Why are you pushing for this?” Chris pressed. “You know we make the calls and the call is that your efforts are no longer required. We have everything in place, you’ll just take up space, space that we don’t have. Congratulations, McLachlan, you have the night off. Go out and celebrate.”

Martha could feel herself stiffen from his petulance. It was an all-too-familiar feeling that she was growing tired of.

“Yes, you’ve made that more than clear.” She retorted.

She let out the last of her breath that she’d been holding and gathered herself before she turned back to face Tanner. She struggled to meet his eye for a brief second but no amount of re-focussing herself could take away from the disappointment she was feeling inside.

“I guess there’s nothing left I can say.” She finally acquiesced and nodded once to Tanner, who reciprocated with what she thought was a small hint of regret. She didn’t exactly mean it but nevertheless it seemed like the professional thing to do.

She caught Chris’ eye once again before she fully departed the room but neither was willing to give the other the satisfaction of acknowledgment.

“You could go easier on her. We need someone like her in the team. She’s very good at her job.” Tanner said when he was confident that she was no longer within earshot.

“So are a lot of people but it doesn’t mean they all get to be invited along for the ride.”

“She’s helped this team a lot over the past couple of years.” Said Tanner, pointedly ignoring Chris’ last words.

“Then we’ll have a whip-round and sign a card.” Chris shrugged. He dropped his foot from the wall and casually made the few steps to where he stood in front of Tanner’s desk.

“That’s very grateful of you, Christopher. Remind me, who removed the bullet from your shoulder in Detroit?”

Chris paused at Tanner’s annoying ability for recall. How was he expected to respond to that?

“That’s what she’s paid to do.” Chris conceded. “But we can’t pretend that she has even half the training my guys have. By anyone’s standards, this is a quiet, safe mission. You said so yourself. No one is going to get injured, so…she’s surplus to requirements. End of discussion.”

“And what about next time? What about when you or one of your boys needs medical assistance and you’re hiding out in some cave in Iran? You think Dave or Benji will be able to cope?”

“Benji served two tours in Afghanistan. I think he can deal with a bandage.” Chris attempted to shrug Tanner off once more.

“Or what about when one of your guys trips a wire and threatens to set off a landmine?”

Chris couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You think she’s a bomb disposal expert all of a sudden?”

“No, she isn’t, but she could be.” Tanner posed, choosing to ignore the scoff that just emanated from Chris’ direction. “This is my point, Chris. There are very few people left in this country that can do what you and this team does, I get that, but it would be a wise and valuable idea to at least consider the future. Consider protecting this team’s legacy, your legacy, and pay attention to the possibilities of who is available and who can be trained that could handle these same pressures.”

Chris’ hands found their way to his hips and Tanner knew he’d likely pushed his luck. Still, he said what needed to be said. It was common knowledge around these parts that Chris had an ego that needed to be kept in check, and Tanner seemed to be the only person to do it.

“I don’t doubt that an ER is a tough environment but let’s not pretend a medical degree is in any way a viable substitute for the nerve and intuition this team has.”

“She’s a doctor, Chris. I think nerve and intuition are parts of her job specification.”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it-”

“-We can’t afford to lose her, Chris,” Tanner interrupts “Or Carl for that matter, so I’d strongly advise you to play nicely with them both from here on out.”

Tanner leaned forward in his recliner and pulled his glasses down from the top of his head. Chris watched as he took the fountain pen from its holder and opened the leather-bound file that had been sat on his desk all morning, awaiting his attention.

It was as clear an indication as possible that their conversation was now over but Chris struggled to accept not having the last word. Regardless, he unclenched his jaw and turned to vacate his office, leaving Tanner to glance at the back of his protégé’s head before getting back to work. 

 *

Chris waited for the heavy-set door to shut behind him completely before he placed his hands back on his hips and breathed in deeply to steady his nerve. He glanced to either side of him to make sure Claire wasn’t in earshot before he muttered a ‘fuck’ under his breath.

Chris was sure the only reason Tanner kept Claire around was because she had the ears of a bat and could pick up on people’s frustrations from a mile away. It certainly wasn’t for her administrative skills, that was for sure. At the age of 52, she’d all but given up on learning how to use email instead favouring the Victorian-era fax machine they were for forbidden from upgrading.

He didn’t like having his work called into question, and he certainly didn’t like it coming from a junior. Martha wasn’t even a fully-fledged member of the team; she was unofficial and part-time at best and he found himself growing increasingly aggravated by her presence. He wasn’t sure why Tanner expected him to just put up with her. It wasn’t like she offered anything he couldn’t get from someone else. She was a hassle he didn’t need at this time of his life.

As he felt his pulse beat in his ears, he took a few more calming breaths and tried as hard as he could to unclench his jaw again. Somewhere down the corridor to his left, he heard doors shut and he felt his irritation kick in.

“You really need to knock this off, McLachlan.” He announced as he burst into the changing room.

“Excuse me?” Martha turned from where she was perched on the edge of the bench, surprised to see him stood in front of her once again. She was just 5 minutes from leaving the building and getting back to the relative sanctity of the hospital so it was totally unfair that she had to speak to him again.

“This interruption you’ve got going on all the damn time. It’s not helpful. You’re just making things more difficult than they need to be.” He took another step towards her, almost concealing her in his shadow. “I don’t appreciate it.”

Martha wasn’t sure if she had missed a conversation in the few minutes since she had left Tanner’s office. She had walked away in full understanding that it was to be business-as-usual and she wouldn’t be needed until the next time. She didn’t much like it but she accepted it. She thought she’d made that part obvious at least.

“Look, I was merely asking why I was no longer being considered for the mission and I think it was a valid question. I wasn’t trying to be difficult, or-”

“That’s the thing, McLachlan. You don’t try to be anything. You just are. I swear you exist just to piss me off.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” She physically recoiled at his tone. “It wasn’t like I was doing this on purpose.”

She looked away from him and back down to her laced-up plimsolls.

“Sometimes, I think you just want to be annoyed about something. If anyone needs a night off, it’s you.”

“Be careful who you’re talking to, McLachlan.”

“Or what?” She flinched, surprised by her own candour. Yet again, she spoke faster than her brain could catch up with.

Martha watched as he was stopped in his tracks. She felt her shoulders shift, trying to drain herself of this interaction with him. At times, it was an effort to merely exist in the same room as him.

He wasn’t expecting the retort and he certainly wasn’t expecting her to question his authority in this manner.

“It’s not my choice having you here, McLachlan, but it certainly will be having you removed if I have anything to do with it.” He was speaking far quieter this time, a gentle intimidation that she assumed was normally reserved for those he was questioning. Or worse. “Quit crying when you don’t get your own way.”

“I wasn’t crying. Sir.” She spoke again in equally hushed tones.

She swore to whoever was up there that she wasn’t deliberately trying to provoke him, but it seemed to be the only language he understood.

After another silent moment passed, he huffed out something that resembled amusement. “Close enough.”

She kept her feet rooted to the spot and refused to look away. Whether it was some vain attempt at essaying confidence, or she just genuinely couldn’t move, she didn’t know.

“This isn’t personal.” He rationalised. “This is serious stuff. I can’t afford to babysit you.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being patronising on purpose or if it just comes naturally to you.”

“Fuck around and find out.”

“Oh, real mature.” She rolled her eyes at him. She got up from her seat and turned to grab her hoodie hanging on the hook inside her locker.

Carl chose that moment to make his appearance from behind the row of lockers. He coughed a fake cough that was almost comical in its execution, briefly unnerving Chris. Carl wasn’t exactly aiming towards Chris either, rather just making his presence known in case Martha had forgotten about him.

Chris looked quickly between Martha and Carl, unaware he had been there. He hid the surprise from his face quite well, keeping his features as straight as possible. Had she known he was there this entire time? What was her game?

“Get your stuff and go home.” He instructed, standing taller than before, returning his gaze back to her. “I’ll deal with you another time.”

He turned on his heels and strode out of the locker room in such few steps, it was almost impressive. To Carl, anyway. Carl was easily impressed at the best of times but working for someone who had received a medal from the President of the United States nearly tipped him over the edge.

Martha slammed the door of her locker with some force, startling Carl in the process.

“Everything OK?” he asked cautiously when the room fell silent again. He knew the answer.

“Not exactly.” Was all she could give back to him.

He thought better of pushing her again, He watched as she moved to stand in front of the mirror that took up almost one whole side of their small changing room. It was a crowded room on account of various equipment cupboards that had been moved in months earlier because, apparently, there was no room left anywhere in the on-site training facility. Martha was convinced it was yet another attempt by Evans of pushing them aside, though, and you couldn’t tell her otherwise.

She stared at herself in contemplation. “I need to go back to the office before I leave, OK?”

“Um, yeh, sure.” Came Carl’s hesitant reply. “Shall I just meet you by the car, then?” But she had already left.

He wasn’t sure what the purpose of her returning to the office was and he dearly hoped she wasn’t going to rile Evans up any more than he already was.

Layer upon layer of coloured and black-and-white photographs stared back at her. She followed the direction of the white ink that lined them all up, connecting the dots both physically and metaphorically. Prints of the town grid and an image featuring the schematics of the local Newman and Grey Hospital were kept separate on one side. In the centre of it all, was Haltzar.

By anyone’s basic understanding, Alek Haltzar was a dangerous man. He was exceptionally tall, standing at over 6ft 5in, and was just shy of 50 years old. When Haltzar wasn’t indulging in Arms trafficking and attempting to corrupt local politicians in neighbouring countries, he enjoyed playing chess competitively and was a single father to three children. It was this latter role that he took more seriously than that which brought him his billion-dollar fortune.

The children’s mother had died in a freak boating accident when their youngest son had turned just four years’ old. She had been the love of Haltzar’s life and her death had devastated both him and the boys. Ever since, he had vowed to dedicate his life and his many, many millions to charity to honour her memory. It was a fast about-turn that stood ill at ease with his previous profession.

He was also gravely ill.

Some four years before today, he had discovered he had been living with a rare form of cancer following what should have been a routine prostate exam. The best scientists and doctors he could find could provide no clue as to its course of treatment, and could not stop it from spreading further.

He went underground for a short while afterwards, trying his hand with any experimental drug and therapy he could find, but when nothing appeared to work, he did what any other person with the means to do so would do and relocated his family to the US. Washington DC to be exact.

DC had been home to the estimable Newman and Grey, a hospital devoted to advancing medical research and theory around some of the body’s most destructive diseases for nearly sixty years. Originally named after Sir Peter Newman, the hospital could now also claim itself as home to the Nobel Prize-winning mind of Professor Alan Grey, a man responsible for, among other things, his incredible work developing the technique that would later create the MRI machine, an epic scientific breakthrough in the late-Seventies that allowed the diagnosis of patients via non-invasive means.

So, leaving behind his work, his varied and dubious connections to some of the world’s most powerful people, and his entire life it seemed, Haltzar uprooted his family to Washington a little over two years ago. Whatever the likelihood, he moved in an attempt to access the experimental treatments Prof. Taylor had been studying and testing with some degree of success.

His sudden arrival in the US caused as close a thing to a “stir” as Martha reasoned was possible given his identity was genuinely unknown to almost everyone except those who worked inside the CIA. According to them, this move was very much a last-ditch attempt at saving his own life so his beloved children wouldn’t have to grow up without a parent. If he hadn’t been responsible for aiding and abetting several war criminals over the last twenty years, one could be forgiven for feeling just a little bit sorry for him.

Martha supposed she could understand to some degree his reasons for moving to the area. After all, she had done much the same thing as him, just minus the murders and the bribery.

After completing her MD in Boston, she wanted desperately to exist somewhere in Prof. Grey’s orbit if only on the periphery of him and his team. She had lived and breathed his theses and work during her studies, and had arrived at the hospital five years back after she took on a role as an Emergency Doctor in the hospital’s ER. It was a tough baptism of fire for want of a better phrase but Carl had befriended her and the pair of them soon formed an alliance which kept the ER moving at a pace that could hopefully cope with the volume of admissions.

“I’m sure they had their reasons.”

She could hear Carl’s voice in the back of her mind. He was a nice guy, Martha thought, but dear God he could be a push-over at times. Why did he suck up to Evans so much all the time? Tanner, she could understand, but Evans? The guy had an ego the size of the state. He was a jerk. Martha lost count of the people flinging themselves at his feet everywhere he went, Carl notwithstanding, and she could never work it out.

“I’m gonna level with you, Martha,” Carl had said after hearing Martha’s protests earlier that afternoon. “I’ve got zero interest in carrying a gun with me for the next week just in case a goddamn psychopath may or may not turn up to the hospital. That is way above my pay grade. This is why we pay our taxes, so that men like Evans can do the risky work for us.” He turned back to the computer screen in front of him. “And that suits me just fine.”

“But we’re the ones who’ve put this all together.” She argued back at him. “They would never have known about the drug trials if it wasn’t for us and Taylor.”

“Yeh, and the locations and the money and the hospital plans? That’s all them.” He reasoned. “Think of it like anything else we do. We take X-Rays, we take bloods, we make the diagnosis, then we pass the patient over to the right consultant who uses all of that information to make the person better. We still get the credit, we just don’t have to do all of the graft.”

Martha despaired as she stared up at the board. It was all pointless now anyway. 

 *

Haltzar had been living in the quiet but glossy suburb of Chesapeake Beach. It was one of the wealthiest areas in Maryland and was home to several retired businessmen who liked to keep one eye on the New York Stock Exchange whilst making their way around a golf course.

According to Tanner, Haltzar had been photographed several times visiting his oldest son who had enrolled at Notre Dame almost as soon as they had arrived in the area. He had been seen attending their sports matches, visiting a local library, even mowing the lawn outside his home. One photograph Martha had originally lingered on showed him in a car parked outside a Walmart.

He was quite literally hiding in plain sight.

But, as Tanner had supposed, that was easy to do when your Head of Security was also an ex-Black Ops member. Evans thought he had recognised him from his early days on combat duty but ultimately uncovered nothing they could use to get close to Haltzar from the inside.

Walmart was the one image she found herself fixating on over and over again at random times of the day. It was the thing she was thinking about now as she found herself sat behind the reception desk in the ER that Thursday evening.

The clock was ticking by slowly and the expected onslaught of patients never materialised. The team was grateful for the break but Martha hated sitting around doing nothing. Her admin was up to date as always, she’d triple-checked the stock cupboards, and had grown tired of watching the kettle boil for the fourth time having offered to make yet another round of tea for everyone.

It was a weird evening. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was just because it was a Thursday and Thursday seemed too early in the week for people to find a thrill in the weekend. Thursday proved a weird limbo for a lot of people in this town it would seem.

“You should bring a book, M.” Simone called out from the chair a few feet behind her. “I’m reading Catch-22 at the moment. It’s pretty damn good.”

“Didn’t you read that in high school?” Martha asked, snapped from her momentary daydream.

“Yeh but it was pretty dull back then. This time, I’m really appreciating the critique of authority more than before. I tell ya, it is 100% relatable.”

Martha could share in the joke knowing precisely what she was getting at. Simone was adept at the art of the passive-aggressive remark and was a welcome, contrasting energy to the usual politics that went on underneath this roof.

“Seriously, though,” Simone continued. “You wanna go take a nap or something? It’s gonna be hours before we finish here and I can handle things for a bit.”

Martha contemplated her kind offer. She figured she could be bored here or bored in a quiet room where she could mess about on her phone, maybe plan a holiday she knew she wouldn’t take. It didn’t really matter either way but she would at least feel a bit less guilty about it if she wasn’t fussing on her phone in plain sight of the few patients who had taken up space in a couple of bays.

Looking towards the few patients they had admitted that evening, she clocked them each lying quietly on their respective beds, calm and peaceful. Just what they liked to see. A couple of them had been hooked up to blood pressure machines that took intermittent readings and beeped out accordingly, and the other guy was sat up in his bay and reading a magazine upside down, the drugs perhaps causing him to feel a little drowsy. She wouldn’t hold it against him.

“Thanks. I won’t be too long.”

“Take as long as you need, chick.”

Simone turned back to the paperwork in front of her as Martha vacated the squared-in desk formation that created their excuse for a reception.

Taking the long, quiet walk down the corridors to reach the staff quarters took longer than usual. Her phone was clasped in her hand and she’d picked up a glass of water on the way. She held the doors open for Paul, the porter, as he transported some equipment to another ward a few floors up. He had been too polite to let her help him the rest of the way, despite her offer.

Finding herself at a loose end, she locked the door behind her and chose the single bed closest to the radiator. The heat would help lull her to sleep, she thought, and she could while away a couple of hours before she returns to the main ward to see what might await her. Was it wrong that she hoped something a little more dramatic might break up the monotony of the shift?

He was reading it upside down.

Wait.

On more than one occasion she had spotted him scanning the ER. She had thought he was just waiting for a relative to arrive or perhaps waiting for his SHO to return with some test results, but…he wasn’t confused. The drugs weren’t causing him to feel lethargic or muddled; they weren’t strong enough to do that.

Why had she negated to think that before now?

She held her fingers to the side of her forehead, hastily rolling back through her memories of the last couple of hours.

The three men had each arrived separately but only within about twenty minutes of each other. They all claimed various minor upsets that although were a little uncommon to be accidental, were nevertheless ailments the team had handled thousands of times before. After all, they weren’t there to question anyone; they were there to do their job and fix what was wrong with them.

Martha didn’t pretend to know the intricacies of the Agency’s work but she was still able to note their boots were in fact of the same make and all were clean and shiny, as though they had each just left the shop before they found themselves at Newman’s.

“Jerry?” She called out hurriedly as soon as she heard the other line click on.

“Oh hey Martha! What’s up?” Came the friendly, chirpy response from perhaps the only man in the Unit that maybe didn’t hate her guts.

“You guys need to get down here. Now.”

There was nothing he liked more than catching Sarah unawares while she was deep in her own little world and completely oblivious to her surroundings. Not while she was sleeping, mind, because he knew that freaked her out and truthfully, she didn’t believe him when he told her that she looked beautiful when she was asleep and not, as she eloquently put it, a dribbling mess. But rather he liked watching her when she was engrossed in reading a book, or super focussed watching the news on television, or finishing some menial house chore. Or simply just existing nearby. It really didn’t take much to bring out this side of him it would seem. He just loved being in the same vicinity as her.

Another thing that apparently worked for him, although admittedly this was more of a recent discovery of his, was when she wore her old pair of dungarees. These were dungarees he had managed to go several years without witnessing her in, it turned out. How had he managed to never be around when she had worn them before? In all the years he had known her? He’d seen her in sweatpants, a whole manner of hoodies, scrubs, smart, casual…but never these. Clearly, God had been punishing him for something along the way; what, he wasn’t sure, but he had decided he would be definitely making up for lost time.

He couldn’t quite put into words what the sight of her in her slightly distressed-looking black dungarees did to him exactly but stood where he was now, in the doorway of what was going to become an office or a library of some sort, watching her as she stretched up onto her tip-toes to reach the corner of the window with her paint-roller in hand, he was feeling practically feral.

She was humming a tune unrecognisable to him but he wasn’t paying particular attention to that part. It was more about the way the dungarees subtly pulled up around her waist to show off the perfect curve of her thighs and ass whenever she stretched just a little bit too hard.

Maybe it was a combination of all of the above; the stretching, the painting, and the humming along to something in her brain. It was probably all of the above. He couldn’t deny it; it was all undeniably working for him.

“Are you going to keep staring or are you going to come and help me with this?” She asked, rousing him from his new favourite hobby. He thought he had been subtle but evidently not.

“Is that a trick question? ‘Cos if you’ve giving me the option, I’m gonna keep staring, thanks.”

“Ha ha. C’mere, I need your long legs to reach this awkward bit.” She moved back from the window bay and held the small roller out towards him, not quite meeting his eyeline.

“I love it when you boss me around.” He playfully nudged her with his elbow but she didn’t bite. He pretended to pout at her, childishly, and again, she didn’t notice.

He rolled his eyes to himself and grudgingly took the roller from her hands. He asked her which spot she meant before trying to play the hero in vain hope she might start staring at his ass instead. It didn’t happen unfortunately and he sort of knew it wouldn’t.

She had been mithering about this final spare bedroom for days now and set about roughly figuring out a layout on her iPad the evening before, telling him the sooner they got it done, the sooner they could both get some valuable use out of the space. If Chris was going to get his way this afternoon, he would have to work much harder than this.

“You know, we don’t need to do this right now, yeh?” He suggested. “It’s not like we’ve got any visitors coming this week and even if we had, no one is gonna think any less of us just because one bedroom isn’t properly decorated.”

“It’s a mess, Chris. We’ve just dumped everything in here that doesn’t go anywhere else.” She scratched at the side of her head, unknowingly leaving a thin streak of white paint behind. He decided he wasn’t going to tell her about that just now.

“You know what I think about this space?” He paused his painting and backed up from the window to stand beside Sarah. He pretended to give it some serious thought but there wasn’t much else going on in his brain at this precise moment, dungerees be damned.

“We are not having some weird sex room…”

“I didn’t say anything about a sex room! Also, let’s not be hasty and rule anything out just yet, OK? I mean, we have plenty of space. One bedroom could easily be kept under secure lock and key and that people whisper about when they come to visit us.”

He winked at her but pulled back the brashness a little when he saw her expression grow increasingly unimpressed.

“Why are you stressing about this room anyway?” He sighed in defeat. “You’ve been thinking about it constantly these last few days and it’s really no big deal, honey. We have lots of time and I can think of a hundred better ways of spending it today.”

“I’m not stressing about it.” She protested and, yet again, completely glossed over his mild flirting. “And it’s not stress exactly. It’s just annoying me is all. When it’s done, it’s done and we can forget all about it. I promise.”

He placed the roller down in the paint tray placed precariously on the end of a chair she had carried up the stairs from the dining room.

“Then tell me why this is annoying you so much?” He placed his hands on her shoulders, more serious this time in the hope she might feel like letting him in to whatever was going on inside her brain today. She had been far too quiet and short with him and it was starting to unnerve him a little bit.

He could tell she was trying to find the right words but likely, she didn’t particularly want to have this conversation with him right at this moment. She herself wasn’t actually sure why she was getting worked up over a random space that, he was right, they didn’t need to worry about right this second. She had hoped he might drop the conversation if she could gear him up into helping her finish the first layer of painting, though. It was approaching 5pm and if they finished it soon, they could figure out dinner and then he would likely forget all mentions of stress if a big bowl of pasta was placed in front of him.

“It’s all good.” She shrugged as casually as she could manage and made a move to take the roller back from his grasp. “I just want to get it done so it’s done.”

She should probably have known that Chris would do what he did next.

Just as her fingers were about to reconnect with the handle, and quicker than she could react to, Chris grabbed the end of the roller and twisted it in his hand. Before Sarah had even registered what had happened, she saw it held up high behind his head, just out of her reach. A couple of drops of paint had splattered the wall behind him.

“Ah!” Chris exclaimed, yanking the brush even further away from her hands as she made a lame attempt to reach for it. “If you want it back, you know what you have to do.”

He spoke defiantly, confidently, so sure was he that a playful wind-up was in order. It might make her react more towards him than whatever this current behaviour was, he thought. Maybe she could take it out on him instead. The prospect of that thought alone was mouth-watering.

“What the f…?! Chris!” She cried out, trying hard to mask the giggle threatening to leave her mouth. “C’mon, just gimme the roller.”

“No.”

“You’re being a dick.”

“I know. You’ve always known I’ve been like this and you’ve found it cute up ‘til now.” He retorted, yet more swagger coming to the fore. He was getting on her nerves now, he could tell, but he was also distracting her and that was the aim of the game.

“I wouldn’t say ‘cute’ exactly.” She responded, her hands finding her hips.

“Well, I am extremely cute, you’ve said so yourself, and what’s more is that you love me for it.”

She rolled her eyes and gently pointed a finger against his chest in a more playful move. Two could play at this game, she thought.

He took a further step backwards, the roller still stretched out behind him in anticipation of her next move, his eyes as wide as she had ever seen them before.

“Stop trying to make me laugh, OK? I’m in a mood.” She conceded.

“I know you are and I’m sorry, honey. One kiss and then I promise I’ll be quiet and help you finish painting.” He dropped his arm down to his side and pretended to zip his lips closed. He felt relieved when she chuckled at him again. Honestly, he thought his joking around could have gone either way at this point. “How does that sound? You have to admit, that’s a fair swap.”

“I’m not sure I want you helping me now.” She said, playfully.

“That’s also fair but have I at least succeeded in making you less in a mood with this room?”

“And more in a mood with you? Yes, one hundred per cent.” She rolled her eyes at him again.

“Cool.” He seemed remarkably proud of himself all things considered. “Do you wanna, maybe, be in a mood with me in the shower instead?”

“I don’t need a shower.”

“Yeh, you might wanna go check the mirror about that.” He pointed the roller towards the side of her head.

Helping her through her confusion, he pulled out a loose piece of hair from her ponytail and watched as she tried her best to focus her eyes on where she could see the paint-stained ends.

“Oh shit, is it everywhere?!”

She grabbed for the scrunchie and let the rest of her ponytail out. Long hair fanned over her shoulders and face and quite honestly, this addition to her look wasn’t exactly helping to alleviate his feelings of horniness. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion in his mind. He watched as she grabbed at the rest of her hair, fanning several strands apart between her fingers as she tried to assess the damage.

“No, it’s not that bad.” He spoke lowly, inching a little towards her. “But you are probably going to need a second pair of hands. Just to make sure you get it all out.”

Any other time when she was feeling less anxious, she likely would have fallen for this flirtation quite willingly but she felt less than sexy in this specific moment. She felt tired and grumpy and probably hormonal. And she didn’t much fancy a shower either. She hadn’t even clocked the fault of her dungarees yet.

She kept separating bits of her hair between her fingers, growing more and more disappointed in her clumsiness. She didn’t notice Chris lifting up the paint roller again until it was almost too late.

“What are you doing?!” She yelled out as she spied him in her peripheral vision, posing the roller just by the side of his face.

“Stop me. You know what to do.” He asserts, his eyes wider than she had seen before. “I know what you’re doing. You’re turning a small thing into a big thing and it’s not gonna get you anywhere. Believe me, I know. So, we’re gonna work through this together ‘cos we’re grown-ups and I love you so you either let me help you wind down whatever this is or I’m rolling this all over my face and then I’ll have to shave the beard off.”

If Chris only knew how much she loved his beard, how she would do almost anything to make sure he never shaved ever again, he could make life a hell of a lot easier for himself when he was trying it on with her. She was genuinely surprised he hadn’t worked it out yet unless he had and he was saving that nugget of information for another time. It wouldn’t surprise her at this point in their relationship. He was full of surprises and she was only approximately half glad about that “skill”.

“I don’t know what getting me in the shower is going to accomplish.”

He smirked at her as though he was hiding a secret he wasn’t going to let her in on just yet.

“Well, let’s try it and see.” 

 * 

 “I still blame you for that.”

“How is that my fault? I was merely working out and you couldn’t help yourself.”

Chris massaged the back of her head, her soapy hair wrapped between his fingers. He’d been at this for about fifteen minutes now and while it wasn’t doing much to save the environment, Sarah was grateful for the pleasant and comforting distraction. He had always been unfairly good with his hands.

“Well…” She started, sighing again at the feeling. “How was I gonna reject you? You had the puppy eyes and everything.”

He pulled his fingers from her hair and the brief loss of pleasant contact was soon replaced by his warm arms wrapping around her waist. She leaned her head to one side as he placed a feather-like kiss to her shoulder.

“I have the puppy eyes now, Bernette, but you’re not taking the bait.”

“You got me in the shower, didn’t you?”

“That was only, like, the first part of my plan.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the effect of the steam inside their shower enclosure, or the sweet smell of coconut from her shampoo, or a combination of both but her skin suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. His soft kisses moved slowly up the side of her neck until she felt his lips linger behind her ear, a well-known place he knew never failed to turn her on.

He felt her breath hitch as his hands moved lower and lower across the soft skin of her tummy, until his fingers slowly met the red-hot skin between her thighs. She shuddered a little in his grasp as she felt his long fingers work her over, running them softly between her wet lips, his middle finger occasionally mounting the pressure just so so he could feel her tense a little more in his arms, hear her sigh a little more through the spray of hot water and steam, and relax her just right so she could forget whatever shit had been going on inside her brain today.

It never failed to work and he was proud of that fact. He was proud that he knew her better than anyone else, knew her body better than anyone else, and knew just what to do to calm her down and bring her back to him again.

Her back pushed firmly against his chest as he kept going, deliberate with each stroke of his fingers as he waited for the tell-tale sign that she was getting closer, when her hand reached out to grip his and hold it still.

She steadied her breathing and, briefly confused, he eased off his touch. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen next as, by his understanding, she felt pretty close to her end but he waited for her to calm some more and possibly move his hand again, taking control. Instead, his heart dropped a bit when he felt her try to turn in his arms. He reluctantly loosened his grip and allowed her to move so she was facing him again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly.

“Mmm…” she sighed contently.

He opened his eyes to find hers still closed as their lips slowly parted just millimeters from each other.

“Why did you stop me?” he whispered, the heat from his breath fanning over her face.

Her eyes opened and he watched them slowly focus on him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead so she didn’t think he was pushing for an answer, but he felt a bit weird. Weird? No, that seemed too far-fetched. But something was wrong.

“I’m good.” She replied, still apparently blissful.

“But you didn’t…” 

“I know. It’s OK.”

She kissed him again and he let her but he would be lying to himself if he thought he was anything other than convinced by her sudden about-turn. It didn’t help that he could now feel the creeping but mild dissatisfaction in his chest.

“Do you wanna maybe try something else?” He asked, again trying to mask any sense of concern from his voice or his face.

She still had a slightly blissed-out look on her cheeks as evidenced by the blush covering her skin. It felt hot to the touch as he spread his fingers over her lower back, crossing his arms to avoid her moving away from him.

“No, I’m good. Honest.”

That’s a maybe, but he wasn’t.

“I just don’t think it’s gonna happen right now. Sorry.” She continued as patiently as she could, trying to sound like it wasn’t a big deal when she knew it likely would be for him.

When has he ever not made her cum? It’s like a given at this point, he knows her that well. He knows when something isn’t working and he knows when to change it up. It’s just how he is, so proud is he of knowing her in the most intimate of ways. But she desperately didn’t want him to worry about it or question her about it. It just wasn’t to be at this time. She was probably just a little too tightly wound from earlier in the day and that was on her, not him.

She moved her hands away from his shoulders and ran them over her wet hair to remove the last remnants of her shampoo. He watched her as she leaned her head back under the spray and smoothed her hair out to their ends, then make eye contact with him again, her sweet smile making a welcome appearance.

“Why don’t I start dinner, hmm?” She rubbed her hands over his shoulder again in a soothing motion, and was grateful for his returning smile.

“Sure.” He lied. “I’ll just finish up in here.”

“Oh, sorry, do you want me to…?”

“No, no, not that. I just mean, I need to get rid of the coconut smell.” He chuckled. “I love it on you but I have a manly reputation to maintain and sweet tropical smells might not cut it.”

She was thankful for the out as she stepped to his side and vacated the stall. A fluffy white towel lay on the wicker basket just in front of her and she quickly wrapped it around her body, securing it with a small fold at the top.

She could just about make him out in the shower as she made to leave the bathroom. The steam gave tempting glimpses of his sculpted form and not for the first time that day did she feel like an absolute idiot. 

For some unknown reason, right around the beginning of Summer, people liked to separate from their spouses. 

It may only be a temporary separation but it was almost like there was an internal clock slowly ticking away in the heart of the nation’s middle classes. About half-way through the year and with the heightened addition of the hot summer sun possibly adding to feelings of discomfort and pressure, a chain reaction sets off that provokes a crisis of conscience in couples everywhere. Literally, everywhere. 

It was 50-50 as to whether the separations were triggered by more husbands than wives (although Grace had her theory that it skewed more towards the former thanks to mid-life crises exacerbated by the stereotypical choices of top-down sports cars and the allure of a good, old-fashioned golf course) but nevertheless, it was a very real, very tragic, very expensive phenomenon. Law Firms up and down the country would prepare themselves for it. They would hire more staff (it was indeed true that May-into-June was an ideal time for a job switch if you were in the legal profession) and poaching caused panic all over the place. 

If Grace had her time at university all over again, she would have focused on this topic for her final thesis. She could have made a fortune on the public speaking circuit, written a New York Times best-selling book-cum-self-help-Bible, and retired with millions in the bank at the grand old age of 32. She would have gone on Oprah. She would have been New England’s answer to Brené Brown.

“God, I love the smell of divorce in the morning,” sighed Jack, comfortable, happy, hands stuffed firmly into his pockets as he surveyed the locked meeting rooms that surrounded him.

“Well, aren’t you the old romantic.” smirked Grace. She followed his eyeline and could see figures busily moving around behind the frosted glass that helped privatise rooms from the rest of the public.

“You know, this may surprise you but I have never been one for marriage myself.” He started.

Grace couldn’t work out if he was being sarcastic or not. Of course Jack didn’t “do” marriage. In her mind, she filtered back through some articles she had read about him before she joined the company and she was sure she had read the words “most eligible bachelor” on more than one occasion.

“I simply do not understand tethering yourself to one person for the rest of your life. It speaks of a fear of dying alone if you ask me and quite frankly, that thought has never bothered me. You come into this world alone, you exit alone.”

Grace paused as she tried to figure out a suitable, witty response, but she was coming up short.

“Maybe one day you can explain it all to me.” He turned to face her, bringing her back into the conversation with him.

“Sure thing.” Grace nodded, half-smiling a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. How the hell was she going to do that? She didn’t completely understand it herself.

“Now here is a man who agrees with me, right Andrew?” Jack called over as Andy strode towards them with purpose.

“Agree with what?” he asked, puzzled by the two of them staring back at him, expectantly.

“That marriage is a complete waste of time? Isn’t that what you said once?”

“Um…” He glanced between Jack and Grace. “Well, not entirely. Some people manage to make it work. It just requires a certain skill set and the right person.”

Jack furrowed his brow in bewilderment, suddenly not recognising the man stood in front of him.

“You’re going soft in your old age, Andy.” Jack said, jokingly. “I hope you manage to remain as stoic and cold-hearted for the next few weeks at least while we bash these agreements out. There’s seven on your desk from this morning alone so I’d get cracking with the team and see where you land. Keep an eye open for Mark Shallcross, too. He’s on the war path and doesn’t want to budge on his offer of alimony so that might give us a few hours in court.”

“Jesus, Jack, care to tone down the cynicism for a minute?”

“I am not cynical in the slightest. I’m perfectly normal. It’s everyone else who is the problem. You can spin it however you like but marriage is simply not worth the hassle. Imagine being married and being miserable for large chunks of your life. Or worse still, meeting someone that is better for you. Then what do you do? You end up paying us hundreds of thousands of dollars to save the rest of your bacon. So, tell me, what would be normal in this scenario?”

Jack walked off back to his office so the two of them knew it was a rhetorical question. Grace was slowly learning about Jack’s foibles but they often came at inopportune times so she didn’t always realise they were happening until long afterwards.

Grace and Andy looked at each other, perplexed. She shrugged at him and he chuckled, and the pair of them walked towards the front desk to see what else and who else was awaiting them both.

“Is it really going to be as busy as they say? I mean, I know it’s a ‘thing’ at this time of the year and everything, but still.” She chanced the question at him. The look in his eyes gave her all the answers she needed. “Shit.”

“Shit….”

“Right? It’s madness and I don’t know if it’s just me or-”

“-No, I mean shit.” He interrupted her. “Christine.”

Grace quickly turned to look up at him before practically performing a 180 and seeing Andy’s ex-wife vacate the elevator.

Christine spotted him almost straight away despite being on the other side of the expansive foyer. Andy would stand out in most settings but, still, it was like Christine was magnetised by him.

“Hi Andy.” She approached them both cautiously but with a soft, familiar smile, pushing the strap of her blue handbag further up and onto her shoulder.

Grace wasn’t 100% sure if Christine had registered her standing beside them as she eventually stopped just a couple of feet from Andy. Andy didn’t say anything at first and it was at that point Grace realised she was the dreaded elephant in the room in this scenario. She hated that feeling.

“I’ll…” Grace did what she did best and tilted her head in the direction of her office before slipping away from the pair of them as subtly as possible.

She glanced back at them both just before they disappeared completely from her view as she entered her office. It didn’t look like he had moved a muscle from where he had been stood when she had been nearby. He was likely surprised and concerned in equal measure by her visit but whatever he had been feeling, he didn’t seem to be showing it in his body language. He always had a knack of hiding his true emotions and it had irritated the hell out of Grace on more than one occasion.

Nobody moved or even spoke in what felt like an age it seemed. Christine tucked her elegantly straightened, long, white-blonde hair behind her ear, keeping a hand gripped onto the strap of her handbag like it was a comfort blanket of some sort.

Grace wondered what had brought her here. Maybe a case? Maybe some distant family news she thought he would be interested in or needed to know about for some reason? Maybe seeing him again for the first time in a long time all those weeks ago brought back some fond memories she wanted to explore again. Grace supposed she could sympathise with that mentality.

When Grace spied her again sitting quietly in the lounge an hour or so later, she wasn’t altogether surprised although it was odd to find her sat alone. Grace tucked her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat so as to alert Christine that someone else was in the vicinity. Christine looked up from the article she had been reading at the table and they exchanged polite smiles before she returned her attention to the paper in front of her. Grace didn’t think she had recognised her so she set about making a cup of tea, assuming that would be the end of that.

“I take it he’s told you about me?”

Grace turned around, unsure of whether she had just heard what she thought she did.

“Um…”

“I’m the ex-wife? It seems like you two work closely together quite a bit so I just figured I’ve come up in conversation once or twice.” Christine asked, interested to know what Grace may or may not know about her history with Andy.

“Oh, not really, no.” Grace gave as non-committal an answer as she could but fully expected Christine not to believe her.

Christine sighed. “I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me either, actually. Probably doesn’t want to rake up past memories. I think the last memory he probably has of me is me screaming across a table at him in a restaurant in Paris.”

“Well, we’ve all done that.” joked Grace.

Christine chuckled appreciatively. Her shoulders slumped a little so they appeared less…tense? Was that how she was feeling? She looked down at the newspaper on the table but Grace could tell she wasn’t able to focus on the words.

“It’s Grace, right?” she asked after another quiet moment passed by.

“Yeh, it is. We met at the de la Salle hearing.” Grace was sure Christine could tell she was taken aback by hearing her name coming out of her mouth.

“I remember you. Sophie was very grateful for…everything you said to her. It really helped her a lot.” She smiled at her. “I take it you have children?”

“Two, a boy and a girl.”

“Yeh, I thought you sounded maternal. You have a warm energy about you.” She smiled again. “You don’t often find that with lawyers.”

Grace wasn’t sure what to say to that. Over the years she had become well aware that her methods were sometimes seen as unconventional; unconventional being another word for ‘kind’. Whatever it was, Christine was clearly astute until Grace remembered she had been married to Andy for a certain amount of time and she had no doubt gathered first hand that some lawyers were colder than others. Grace didn’t have sympathy for Christine listed on her bingo card for that day.

“Do you know...?” Christine started before something suddenly caused her to think twice. “Actually, never mind.”

“No, go on.” Grace encouraged, turning to face her fully as she dipped the teabag in and out of her mug. It was strong enough already but she didn’t know what else to do with her hands.

Christine sighed and considered speaking again before rolling her eyes at herself. “This is going to sound like High School but do you know if he is seeing someone?”

Grace hoped her facial expression didn’t give her away. “What?”

“Y’see?! It’s fuckin’ High School all over again! Christ, I must sound so pathetic right now.”

“No, you don’t sound like that at all! Sorry, I just wasn’t sure what to… I mean, I don’t know, really. I’m probably not the best person to ask.” Grace fumbled her way through a reply. “Do you think he’s seeing someone?”

Christine stared at the empty seat in front of her for a moment as she tried to organise her thoughts. It was clear she had some views on that question but wasn’t sure what to say to the almost-complete stranger standing near her who was listening to her speak about things she likely hadn’t even vocalised to a life-long best friend before. Or someone she knew even just one degree better than Grace.

“It was just something he said. Before. I wasn’t sure how to read it, that’s all.” She dismissed it and turned the page as though she was indicating to Grace that their conversation was over, but a thread had clearly been pulled.

“Maybe that’s something you need to speak to him about?” Grace wasn’t sure how to vacate the room much less find a way of courteously ending the conversation without looking like she was about to run away. “Are you waiting around for him?”

She seemed like she hadn’t heard Grace’s question but, soon enough, they made eye contact again.

“No. I just felt a little faint before so I thought I would sit in here for five minutes. It’s probably just the heat, though. Although that was about…” She checked the watch on her wrist. “Half an hour ago so, yes, I suppose I should be thinking about leaving.”

“Don’t leave on my account if you’re not feeling well? I can get someone to call you a cab if you need one?”

“No, it’s fine. Some fresh air will do me good.”

There wasn’t a lot spoken between them after that. Grace offered to call her a cab once more but Christine declined it once more as well. She checked her phone before chucking it into the side pocket of her handbag, and gathered up the paper before nodding her a goodbye.

Whatever it was that had transpired, whatever it was that had led to Christine sitting by herself for this short time, Grace had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last she would see of her. And, as odd as that made her feel, what right did she have to know about their relationship anyway? About what was or was not going to happen?

Those were the thoughts she found whirling around her brain for the rest of the afternoon.

She sat in her office staring at some notes she had made the night before while supervising Sam as he made them all dinner. Nothing quite like summarising a $10million settlement for a three-month long (or should that be short?) matrimony as her innocent, beautiful son made some mac ‘n’ cheese.

A direct message popped up on the bottom right corner of her screen and she inwardly groaned. She rubbed at her eyes with the tips of her fingers, steeling herself to move from the relative solitude of her office.

“What’s up?” She asked Andy as she poked her head into his office a few minutes later.

He turned in his chair to see her in his doorway and placed the file he had been skimming through on his desk in front of him, letting out the air from his puffed out cheeks.

“You think we’ve been too hasty on this McLaughlin case?” He asked her outright.

“No.” She shook her head but still pondered his question in case there was some minor detail they had both omitted from their memories. “He pretty much admitted to all of the affairs, even the ones he couldn’t explicitly remember. It was a bit odd but you said yourself that it was cut and shut.”

He tapped his fingers on the file papers on the desk. “Yeh. Yes, you’re probably right. I just can’t shake the feeling that we could have saved him a bit more cash, y’know?”

Grace shrugged. “I’m sure he’s comfortable. He seemed pretty happy with the settlement at the time unless you’re thinking about raising an appeal on his behalf?”

He shook his head unsympathetically. “No, I’m not thinking that. Sorry, ignore me, it’s been a weird day.”

Grace forced a smile through her closed mouth. She nodded before turning on her heels to leave his office again.

“Grace?” He stood up from his chair. “Could you…shut the door for a second?”

She turned back to view him warily. He walked slowly around the side of his desk before leaning back against it, his hands nervously fidgeting with something in the pockets of his trousers. She did what he asked but she wasn’t exactly thrilled about what was likely going to come next.

“I’m sorry about Christine earlier. I wasn’t expecting...”

Grace shook her head hoping it would stop him in his tracks. “Don’t worry about it.”

He looked her over but she couldn’t work out what he was thinking. Likely, he was wondering why she appeared to be so casual about his ex-wife’s sudden presence.

“There isn’t… there’s nothing there. For me.”

“OK.” She blinked. “It’s not really any of my business.”

“I just didn’t want you to think there was.”

She nodded again. She suddenly felt like she was stood in front of a Principal who was giving her some unwanted advice about something she had been forced to discuss out loud.

“Right. Well,” he tried his hardest to mask his irritation at Grace’s apparent indifference.

He looked around his office at nothing in particular. Grace scratched at the back of head.

“I’m still sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Andy, it’s fine, honestly. You guys were married for heaven’s sake, you have a history. It’s perfectly reasonable for you two to maintain a relationship, even after…everything.”

Andy huffed to himself. “I wouldn’t say we have a relationship exactly, of any kind. In fact, we hadn’t spoken in years before de la Salle. I wasn’t sure why she came by the office today either. Still not sure what she was after even now after she’s left.”

Grace wasn’t sure if he knew Christine had lingered around in a quiet part of the floor before she left earlier that afternoon, but she decided she wasn’t going to be the one to share that little titbit with him. It wasn’t exactly her place.

“What she was after?” She asked him.

“Yeh. She’s, er, getting married again.”

Grace was snapped suddenly by his admission. Reviewing his casual stance still leaning back against his desk, he didn’t appear to be upset or even remotely saddened by the news she apparently gave him just a few hours ago. If anything, he seemed surprised.

“…And she wanted to know what I thought.”

“About the marriage?” Grace approached.

“Yeh.” He nodded at her, matching her perplexity. “I didn’t understand either. I mean, we haven’t spoken in so long, not properly at least. I wasn’t aware we had to notify each other when we started seeing other people. Christ, I owe her a lot of visits.”

Grace rolled her eyes at him. Andy never asked for permission to do anything so of course it would make perfect sense that he wouldn’t think of giving someone the common curtesy of something so minimal and thoughtful, like ‘keeping in touch’.

“She was likely just giving you the heads-up in case you found out from someone else. Boston can be a small place.” Grace said. “Did she tell you about him, the new guy?”

“She said he’s nice, he works in marketing, I think. Oh, and he likes horses.” He shrugged like he wasn’t sure why Christine made a point of mentioning that specific detail.

“That’s cool.” She chuckles and he rolls his eyes in agreement. “It’s always good to find a man who like animals. And it bodes well for becoming a parent, I suppose, if she’s thinking about kids and the future and everything.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that.” He speaks softly. He looks down at the floor and brushes his foot over the soft carpet below before snapping back into the room. “Why are you being so nice about her all of a sudden?”

“Why would I not be nice about her? Or neutral at least. I don’t know her.”

“S’pose.” He said. “She wanted to know if we had made a mistake. In breaking up.”

For the second time in as many minutes, Grace was rendered almost speechless.

“Oh. Right.” She nodded after what was far too long a pause for either of them to be comfortable with. She wanted to know what he said to her next but evidently, he was waiting for her to ask him that question instead. “What do you think about that?”

He shrugged almost nonchalantly. “There’s only so many times you can tell a person you weren’t right for each other, that you weren’t going to make the other one happy, y’know? I don’t particularly enjoy breaking people’s hearts, despite what you might think of me. I don’t think she deserves that shit again.”

Grace nodded and looked down at the floor by his feet, to avoid looking at his face.

“So, I told her I hope she’ll be happy and I hope the wedding goes well.” He spoke again, in a slightly more cheerful tone this time. “I mean, what else is there to say?”

It was a rhetorical question, she knew that, but it didn’t stop her trying to come up with words that might bring this awkward conversation to a close. As it happened, he did it for the both of them.

“I want you to come to Chicago with me next week. For the conference.”

Her eyes widened in shock but he remained as cool as ever as though he hadn’t just posed a completely impractical suggestion.

“That’s not going to be possible. With work and everything, I can’t just up-”

“Yes, you can. Nadine can take on the Phillips and Carlson cases, I know they’ve been dragging for a little while-” Oh wow, flirting and criticising her work in the same sentence. Nice. “-and anything else can wait a day or two. If we fly out Thursday morning and come back late Saturday evening, you’ll be back before anyone realises you’ve gone. It’s easy.”

He wasn’t blinking which was a thing he did when he was arguing with someone, like being trapped under the sheer weight of his intense stare would likely cause his opponent to cave at any moment. She’d shudder to think how many times it had worked in the past, and on whom, like it was almost working on her now.

“No, it’s not easy. I can’t up and leave with no warning, Andy. Even if work wasn’t an issue, I have the kids to think about. I’m sorry.”

“What if Jack asks you to come with me?”

“What?” She narrows her eyes towards him.

“This thing is a pretty big deal, Grace, it only happens once every two years. There’ll be some speakers there I know you’ll wanna see, like that lady with the cats on the front cover. Sadie…?” He clicks his fingers repeatedly until Grace can’t bear it any longer.

“Sadie Carmichael.”

“Sadie Carmichael!” He grins. “I remember you tried making me read her thesis on animal custody in divorce.”

“Yeh, and you kept falling asleep.”

He gets up from his desk and stalks towards her but mindful of leaving a foot between them so as not to crowd her back against the office door.

“I promise I won’t fall asleep this time.”

She does give him the satisfaction of thinking it over a tiny but before she declines him again, leaving him to back away from her.

“Just…think about it. Please?” He presses. “The kids could have a couple of nights with Dan, and I get to spend some time with you.”

“I thought this Chicago thing was a pretty big deal? Won’t you be wanting to schmooze with everyone?”

He purses his lips before smiling at her. “It has to come to an end at some time, right?” He bites his bottom lip in contemplation and regards her again. “That’s one thing I realised today, when she asked if I thought we made a mistake in ending our marriage. I knew instinctively that we hadn’t, it was almost an automatic feeling in me that it was right and that I didn’t regret leaving, but it doesn’t stop me feeling regret for other things I’ve done, or didn’t do. Things that I wanna make right…”

“Andy…”

“Just…a couple of days and then we can figure it all out afterwards.” He placed his hand in hers, hanging by her side. “I promise.” 

CHAPTER NINE

No matter how resilient she was, or at least pretended to be on the outside, Grace had a habit of letting some clients get to her. It didn’t matter that she had a success rate that would make a lawyer twice her age jealous, or even that she was a member of Rothmans to begin with, an agency renowned for its integrity, but passive aggressive comments from people like Nathaniel fucking Parker still got to her. 

“He’s always been a dick.” Evie muttered under her breath as she sided up to Grace in the kitchen. “Literally from birth. I think that’s why he got sent to that private school? I remember him making Lydia cry last year over a single coffee, if you can believe that. He’s just rude and patronising and a jerk.” 

Evie took great delight in letting off that steam, almost like she had been holding it in for all of this time and only now had the option - and relative safety of speaking to Grace - to fully release the force of her opinions of the man in question. Honestly, she could have kept going. She had no time for people who spoke down to her or any of the other staff she worked with. She especially had no time for the people who did while seeming to forget whose help they were after when they found themselves in the Rothman building in the first place.

“What was he doing here last year?” Grace asked, keeping one eye on Mr Parker through the glass window of the boardroom so as to possibly aim her pen at his head if he happened to walk by. 

“It was something to do with his inheritance, I think. He doesn’t speak to any of his siblings anymore except through lawyers so it got really rough at one point. I had to take the minutes but I switched off after a while. Rich kids can be so basic.” 

“Huh, you’re not wrong.” Grace rolled her eyes in agreement. 

Nathaniel Parker was the stereotypical, arrogant trust-fund child. His father had been the heir to a steel company in Ontario but later sold his shares to buy into a successful modelling agency in New York, as one does. It was there he met Sandra, a promising model, who was just twenty-one years old to his fifty-eight. He quickly divorced his first wife, mother of his first two children, and promptly had four more kids with Sandra within that same decade. Parker Senior had been nearly 70 years of age by the time the final one came along. 

Nathaniel was the oldest of the four and had inherited 45% of said agency three years ago at the tender age of just 23. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t mean he owned 45% of the models and so, three lawsuits later, he found himself nearly $20million lighter. There was also a fraudulent crypto-currency deal lingering somewhere in the background but the Feds were already looking into that one.

Jack had wanted nothing to do with him but Charles Rothman had been an old Tennis pal of Parker’s uncle and he had asked Jack personally to try and minimise the public fallout from Nathaniel’s “behaviour”. 

Jack hated people like Nathaniel Parker. To him, Nathaniel was someone coasting on his name and other people’s hard work, then believing they had a God-given right to whatever it was they wanted. He didn’t much want to be involved with Nathaniel the first time he breezed through their front doors, before they even knew of his reputation, and he certainly didn’t want to be involved with him now that he knew exactly what kind of man he was; “man” proving to be a rather generous term. 

As frustrating as it had been for him to do so, Jack reluctantly removed female involvement from the subsequent cases. He just didn’t want to make any one of his team feel uncomfortable in Parker’s presence and, truthfully, the team had been glad of that decision. The sooner Parker vacated the building, the sooner they could all move on with their lives. 

Grace was staggered by just how much his reputation apparently preceded him, and she would be glad if she never saw his name written in the diary ever again. 

“You OK?” 

Grace looked up to find Andy leaning against the door frame, concern etched across his face as his fingers absent-mindedly clicked at the pen in his hand.

“Yeh, I’m fine.” She smiles, shrugging it off. 

He knew what it was that had got her back up but he didn’t say so straight away. He would have said something to Nathaniel Parker himself but he couldn’t walk down the corridor in front of the boardroom where he was sat without spitting fire through his nostrils. Piece of shit. 

He pushed himself off the door and made his way towards her, where she was standing in anticipation of the coffee machine to finish frothing up the milk for her cappuccino. The chocolate sprinkles were poised and ready to go, most likely straight into her mouth if Andy hadn’t been standing right there as a potential witness to her slightly odd food habits. She always seemed to crave sweet things when she was feeling stressed out. 

“Nothing quite says ‘I’m fine’ like four cups of the strongest coffee we have. What is this, Columbian?” He holds up the jar and squints a little at the label. “Jack usually hides this stuff from us mere mortals.” 

“You need to get your eyes tested. And it’s not been four, it’s only been…” She mentally calculates the number of espresso shots she’s inhaled so far today. “Yeh, OK, you’re probably right.” 

Andy grabs a cup from the shelf behind the machine and places it next to hers, expectantly. She looks at the cup and then at him before laughing out loud. 

“I’m not sharing my milk with you.” 

“I don’t want your milk.” He pretends to be affronted but doesn’t get very far before she starts laughing again and he thinks – hopes - he’s made a small difference to her day. “I like it black at this time of the day. I actually fancy something stronger to tell you the truth.” 

“Christ, what’s happened to your day?” she asks. 

“There’s only so many percentages I can take in the space of a couple of hours, Gracie.” He says, matter-of-factly. “I sometimes wonder if I would have been better off studying maths.” 

Grace nods in sympathy. More than she’d care to admit, she often has to suffer the embarrassment of asking her eldest child for help with a calculator. That’s before even approaching the possible-but-definite multiple data breaches in sharing confidential information with a fifteen-year-old girl who was herself partial to a bit of celebrity gossip from time to time. But no one here needed to know about that. Not even Andy who likely would have gotten a kick out of that admission given her history with all things numerical. 

“Parker’s a dick.” Andy says after a beat, chancing that she might want to talk about it if only to get it out of her system. “Even Jack has his struggles with him so you’re not wrong to feel irritated. And I know you’ll be handling it as professionally and as calmly as possible so you can walk away with your integrity intact. You should remember that.” 

He’s right of course; no one found Nathaniel Parker easy or pleasant, but the issue still stood and it would remain at the forefront of her mind for days to come. At least until the next asshole walked through their doors. 

“How do you cope?” She asks him. “You always look like stuff just rolls right off your shoulders.” 

He ponders that question for a second. “Not quite but I figure that this job moves so quickly you don’t really get any time to stop and think about things in any deep and meaningful way. It’s give and take in a place like this, y’know? I guess that’s one of the pay-offs, that you don’t have deal with personal feelings as much when you’re pre-occupied with the next client.” 

She could appreciate that. Yet another difference from the size of the company she used to work for. Hopefully one day soon, her confidence and self-worth will catch up with her diary and she can finally feel like she belongs here. 

“If you want, we could have a drink later? Talk about it some more?” 

“Oh, I don’t think I want to spend more of my energy talking about the Parkers but thanks anyway.” 

He watched while she poured the frothed milk into her cup. “Could just have a drink anyway?” 

There was a split second where Grace’s mind cleared of any thought before she registers Andy’s gentle inquiry. 

“Um…” She thinks. “I…can’t. Sorry, Andy, it’s just I have to finish these notes for Jack and I’m supposed to be meeting a new client later on as well. Plus, Liv’s school report is due this evening and we usually go through it together.”

“OK, it’s cool. It was just a thought.” He nods with a half-smile, trying his hardest to mask his obvious disappointment to avoid landing her with the guilt of turning him down on top of every other emotion she was likely feeling at this moment in time. “Another time.” 

They continue standing where they are, their arms brushing by each other with neither body in a particular mood to move away from the other. 

“But…” He thinks out loud. “That meeting is over by, what, 4?” 

“Yeh, I guess.” 

“And you won’t be needed home ‘til dinner, right?” He offers again and she nods, anticipating what he’s about to propose. “So…why not a quick one in-between? A drink, I mean.” 

He laughs a little but makes the suggestion like it’s the easiest choice she has to make. The prospect of seeing him, although tempting, acts as a stark reminder of how easy this could be for him. How little thought he has to give to it. How little thought he has to give to her life and her family. 

“What? You never had a nooner before?” he toys with her, spying the sceptical look on her face. “That’s kinda sexy actually.” 

He realises his mistake as soon as he closes his mouth. 

“You can’t be like this, you know.” She says, quietly. “Saying this kind of stuff to me here. Anyone could walk in.” 

Andy looks around and sees no one in particular. An intern rushes by but doesn’t notice them. Turning his attention back towards Grace, he registers the anxiety laying just beneath the surface and realises he has gone a step too far.

“I’m sorry.” He says meaningfully. “It’s just…I miss you, that’s all. And I hate the idea of you having a crappy day. I thought I might be able to cheer you up a little bit, if you’d let me.”

She’s grateful for the gesture. She sees him out of the corner of her eye, looking hopeful that she’ll agree. What would this make her, though, if she said yes? She didn’t have the option of lying to him given their diaries were monitored down to the minute and the second for the purposes of billing clients. He likely knew her day’s schedule better than she did. 

“It’s too risky. I shouldn’t.” She finally offers him. 

“Gracie, it’s OK to say yes. I’ll even have you home in time for dinner.” He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. “That’s not funny. I’m sorry. Again.” 

He had never had this much trouble getting a woman to come back to his place before, or even just to meet him for a drink. Sometimes, it was so easy for him, he didn’t even register that he was doing it. Even his puppy-like, blue eyes weren’t getting him far. He didn’t really know what else to say. She certainly wasn’t giving off vibes that might tell him he was moving closer in the right direction but he also knew she was thinking about it and that alone gave him hope. 

“Well,” He nudges his empty cup back across the counter, suddenly not interested in the coffee. “You know where I am if you change your mind.” 

He nods and smiles at her before turning to leave the room, and Grace to her thoughts. 

 * 

“Right, that’s me.” Andy announces brazenly as he strides towards them. It had just gone half past three and the place was still bustling with activity. 

He throws his long, woollen coat over the same arm that is carrying his bag, and reaches over the desk beside Evie to grab for the large padded envelope currently awaiting him, his surname scrawled on it in thick, black marker pen. It definitely wasn’t paperwork but Grace didn’t have the chance to guess what it could have been holding before he swipes it under his free arm. 

“If anyone asks, I’ll be out of contact for the rest of today.” He tells Evie. “Just take messages and tell them I’ll get back to them tomorrow or something.” 

All of a sudden, Grace felt like she was under a spotlight. It was ridiculous because all Evie did was take the instruction and type a code into the system that redirected his phone line. 

“I guess I’ll see you guys later.” Andy smiles at them both and strides out of the reception before turning to head down the wide, glass staircase. 

Grace remains rooted to where she’s standing, signing forms Evie had accosted her with five minutes earlier. She can’t describe the feeling exactly or what it was that made her do it, but something stirs her from the paperwork to look up just in time to watch Andy descend the staircase behind where Evie is stood. Fleetingly, they make eye contact before he disappears entirely from view and, not for the first time, Grace feels a pit in the bottom of her stomach that she can’t name. It was a slight, almost imperceptible ache she had long since been unable to put a label on. There was a time when she would have relished the feeling, she remembers, like when he looked at her across the lecture room and she would feel like the only human being alive. 

“I bet you anything it’s for a date.” Evie hints conspiratorially, snapping Grace’s attention back towards her.

“What? You think so?”

“Hell, yeh! He never normally leaves earlier than anyone else around here. It has to be for something important.”

“Maybe it’s just a meeting?” Grace suggests, trying to find a way to back out of this conversation.

“Could be but have you noticed he seems to be a little distracted these days? There’s definitely something going on.” Evie poses.

Grace wasn’t sure how to respond. Evie was clearly invested in the comings and goings of everyone in the office and while most of the time it was at least entertaining, this definitely felt close to crossing a line.

“Oh!” Evie starts again, practically shocking Grace in the process. “I wonder if it’s to do with his ex? She’s been around lately with the de la Salle thing. You gotta admit that’s an interesting thought, right? Reckon they might be giving it another go?”

Evie taps her pen against her chin, eyes wide open and genuinely interested, looking at Grace in the hope she might give something away.

“Um, yeh, maybe.” Was all Grace could say, rather pitifully. She regretted it instantly, almost as much as she regretted the faint suggestion of jealousy creeping into her pulse.

Evie playfully rolls her eyes at Grace, realising she isn’t going to get any further with her investigation at that moment in time. She turns away and taps something onto the screen in front of her, providing Grace with the perfect opportunity to slip away and back into the safety of her office.

Finally getting to vacate the building later that afternoon felt more freeing than usual. She could leave the Parker case behind, in a filing cabinet in someone else’s office, and not give it a second thought until she absolutely had to. Jack had asked for her views on a couple of points but they would all depend on the outcome of various interviews and whether anyone would want to file a formal complaint against him. That was most certainly a job that could wait another week or so and she felt her shoulders relax as she drove further and further away from the office. There was plenty of work left that week she had to complete but it was work she knew she could do with ease. They were cases where both sides would at least be appreciative of her help without calling her the ‘c’ word.

Traffic was as trouble-free as it usually was. She could almost drive home with her eyes closed now although for obvious reasons she wouldn’t attempt it. For one thing, Dan would use it as the excuse he needed to finally buy a new car and she had been trying to get him to agree not to do so for the time being. At least not with Liv’s potential college days looming on the horizon. That was yet another thing she would try to put out of her mind for a little while.

The only thing that would in fact save her from the day she had experienced was Andy closing his front door behind her and pouring her a small glass of wine. He had texted her before she left the office, as one final attempt at getting her alone for an hour or so, but still expecting to be disappointed. Now as it had once been, however, she felt he would understand.

“I’m surprised to see you.” He says to her as he hands her a tall wine glass and turns to places the cork back into the neck of the bottle.

“Are you?” She questions him disbelievingly. “I didn’t think much surprised you these days.”

He tilts his head in thought as she wanders around his apartment. She takes in the grand piano and some black and white photographs leaning against the wall but she doesn’t linger on one thing for too long before moving towards his couch and settling down comfortably. She was immediately thankful to take the weight off her feet in something that didn’t have a desk in front of it.

“I guess I just didn’t think you would change your mind.” He says.

“What, and miss out on Chile’s finest?”

She sips the wine appreciatively and he smiles before joining her on the sofa. It was a poor attempt at a joke and she knows that as Andy’s eyes narrow, inquisitively posing an unspoken question. He’s close by her side again, just as they were in the office some hours earlier, shooting the breeze as only they knew how to by this point. She didn’t feel so uncomfortable this time.

“I hope you’re not still thinking about Parker.” He asks her, worried still for his friend.

“No.” she sighs. “No, you were right. If someone as powerful as Jack can find him distasteful then it’s a pretty normal assumption everyone else would as well. Safety in numbers, I guess.”

“Yeh.” He nods. “It’s the thing I like most about the place to be honest with you. We’re definitely a family.”

Grace leans her head back onto the back of the sofa with the cushion just meeting her under her neck and giving her yet another reason to feel restful and content.

“So why are you here?” he inquires after a beat. “If it’s not Parker you’re thinking about?”

She didn’t know how to answer that truthfully, but she knew she likely wouldn’t have to. Judging from the way he was looking at her, his eyes now softer and more soulful than she would see at work, he had made up his mind already. He seemed to understand her. It was yet another thing that gave her that undefined feeling.

He places his glass on the table, then hers, and she thinks she sees him briefly contemplate his next move. He places his hand on her leg just above her knee and moves in close to touch his lips to hers.

It was as soft as she remembered, his typical move so as not to put pressure on her in case she realised she had made a horrendous mistake coming here and would want to duck out of the apartment as painlessly and as hastily as she could. She surprised herself by her decision to meet him half way and give him a spark of encouragement that would allow him to move into her space a little more.

Andy had always been a good kisser. He was probably her first proper kiss; proper in the sense that he knew what he was doing and often took the lead so she never had to question whether he was into her or not. She never had to doubt what he wanted from her. A man could easily give himself away sometimes while kissing, she knew that much.

They didn’t do this so much at the hotel, both of them a little too emotional and drunk to hold back from placing their hands wherever they could. But this, this was lovely. Familiar. In the years that fell between them meeting for the first time and being here now, sinking into his chenille couch, she found herself comparing other kisses to him. Not every kiss and certainly not wilfully, but sometimes it just happened and she couldn’t stop herself.

She loved the way his hands would move up her body and into her hair, the heat from his fingers tenderly massaging the back of her neck. They moved around until, without realising how he had managed to do so, she was in his lap. His hands gripped at her waist and she kissed him desperately until she couldn’t do so any longer and pulled away from him quickly, feeling a little off-balance in the process.

She saw the look of confusion in his eyes, trying to work out what was going on. It was like she had left her body and was witnessing herself from somewhere else in the room.

She stands up and away from him, an inch too far for him to reach out and touch her again. He doesn’t want to, though, not just yet anyway. He wants to see what she does next. He wants to know if she wants this as much as he does.

She’s thinking. Her breathing steadies for a second as she spies the look of intent in his eyes, questioning her as to whether she’s thinking about walking away from him and hoping against hope that she doesn’t.

She takes a deep breath and reaches for his face with her hands, kissing him again and leaning down over him to close the gap. He’s surprised by her move before she feels his hands reach out towards her hips and gently pull her down again, guiding her leg to his side so she can move comfortably back into his lap. The simple black, mid-length skirt she was wearing was not the most ideal item of clothing for this position and it awkwardly hitches up around her thighs when she finally reconnects with his body.

They stay in this position for what feels like an eternity, just relaxing into each other’s embrace and enjoying the feeling of being intimately connected.

Somewhere she hears her phone vibrating and it shakes her from her surroundings.

“Hey,” he breaths against her neck before reluctantly pulling away to look into her eyes. “Don’t answer it.”

He tempts her with a soft kiss to her cheek and the side of her lips until she appears to forget her phone. It vibrates a couple more times before whoever is calling her ultimately decides to give up. The silence returns except for their breathing, getting heavier and heavier as they fall deeper into each other.

He grips her waist and she thinks he’s about to stand up with her still connected to him but instead and with surprise, he carefully moves her backwards onto the rug beneath them with such ease, she feels like she weighs less than a feather. Her hands reach for his belt, fumbling slightly until he backs away from her.

“Not yet,” he breathes, forcing her to pause her movements.

He kisses her neck slowly, biting gently underneath her ear and savouring her sweet, perfumed smell and every inch of what was uniquely her. He made his way down her body, grazing his lips over her neck and breasts before feeling her tummy rise and fall as her breathing became more erratic in anticipation. He slid his body down over hers and pushed her skirt further up until it gathered around her waist revealing the dark purple underwear she had picked out that morning. That she had no clue what was awaiting her that day, that it was likely only her regular choice of underwear, seemed to make him lose his mind.

He positioned his shoulders under her thighs and gazed at the beautiful sight between her legs. He kisses the inside of her right thigh, then her left. He revelled in the small movements she was making under his hands, taking in her gorgeous scent that seemed to cause him to salivate at the prospect of reclaiming what had been his all those years ago. His and only his.

With his long, flat tongue he finally tasted her. Her moans were anything but muffled. Her back arched above him with the added intensity as on and on, he licked and swirled his beautiful tongue upon her helpless body, his fingers tempting her. He could make her cum quickly if he wanted to, he always could, but where was the fun in that?

After their first reconciliation, he had been left struck blind by how sensual she had become in the years since he had last known her so intimately. Had she discovered that with him? Had he left an indelible impression upon her and now Dan was reaping the rewards? How many men had experienced that kind of love since he had? He had to find a way of quickly shaking those thoughts from his mind.

He continued kissing her, his mouth nearly stopping her breathing as his other hand moved over her hip and gripped at her side hard. In seconds, spasm after spasm rocked her body with overwhelming ecstasy. He listened to her cry out and he held her down until she wordlessly begged for him to ease up on her so she could catch her breath back.

He could have stayed where he was all night, drawing orgasm after orgasm from her body, but he knew he had very little time with her now and he wanted one more time to hear her gasp into his ear as he entered her.

He moves up her body, kissing slowly as he goes, and reaches out to run his hand through her hair, caressing strands away from her eyes. He likes the way she’s looking at him as she grazes her thumb over his bottom lip, playing with the moisture just lingering there until he kisses the pad of her finger, licking it away.

He’s so close to her that she can feel his eyelashes on hers. He glances between her eyes and her lips before kissing her once more.

“I love you, Gracie.” He whispers.

She wishes she hadn’t heard it. 

 * 

She closes the front door behind her, lazily dropping her bag on the floor by her feet so she can remove her coat. She quickly looks away from the hallway mirror after she catches sight of herself.

“Long day?” Comes Dan’s calm and quiet tone.

She looks up to find him standing in the kitchen doorway, a tea towel draped over his shoulder and glass of beer half drunk in his hand.

“Yeh, something like that.” She hates herself for lying so blatantly to his face. “What’s up?”

He flicks his eyes towards the staircase in front of her. She follows his view but remains confused. The fretful expression on this face narrows it down to one of two children, but she’s definitely going to need him to use more words.

“You might wanna to go talk to Liv.” He tells her without needing to hear her ask. “It’s not been a great day.”

“Is she OK? Her report can’t be bad.” Grace probes him, sliding her shoes off so she can climb the stairs without alerting her daughter.

“No, it’s not that. Dylan dumped her this afternoon.”

“What?” She whisper-shouts. “Why?”

“Said they were moving in different directions apparently.” Dan shrugged. It was the most he could get out of Liv before she ran upstairs and slammed her bedroom door shut. He knew it wasn’t worth his time getting her to open up to him. “Tried calling but your phone rang out.”

“Different directions? They’re 15!” Grace glossed over his comment but couldn’t stop the guilt slowly coming.

“I don’t know what to tell ya.” Dan shrugs again. “She should talk to you, though.”

Grace looks to the stairs again but Dan heads back into the kitchen. As she slowly heads up, she passes Sam’s bedroom to hear if and what he was playing on his computer. She rounds the corner and comes to the sign indicating Liv’s bedroom, highlighted in purple glitter, that Liv had made when she was six years old. Grace had been reluctant to throw it out but secretly Liv hadn’t minded all that much.

Grace couldn’t believe this was the same child who was now having her heart broken by some boy neither she nor Dan rated all that much (but couldn’t exactly say so out loud). Dylan was a popular kid in school thanks to his basketball skills but he also had a low attention span and Grace had a feeling something like this would happen sooner or later. All of that came from meeting him on one single occasion.

“Hey gorgeous…” Grace carefully announced her presence by peering her head around the door frame.

Liv was curled up on her bed, lying on top of her duvet but wrapped in the blanket she had knitted for herself last summer when the weather had been appalling. She didn’t seem to be crying but the tissues lying clumped on the floor told a different story.

Grace shut the door behind her and made her way towards the bed. She climbed on top of the duvet, laid down close behind Liv, and wrapped her arms around her so she was the bigger spoon. Liv didn’t move and allowed her mom to hold her tightly. If there was one thing Grace knew and one thing that Liv had evidently inherited from her, it was that sometimes you didn’t want to talk all that much. You just wanted to lay still, be peaceful, and cry.

They stayed like this for about ten minutes before Liv turned in her mother’s arms bringing them face to face.

“You’re gonna tell me I’ll get over it, aren’t you?”

“No.” Grace responds simply, and she thinks she can see a look of surprise in her daughter’s eyes. “I’m not gonna tell you that because it’s not going to help.”

Liv wipes her hand over her cheek, cleaning away the last remnants of the tears that had started to dry on her skin. Liv had such beautiful skin, like her mother and her grandmother before her. It was a shame whenever she felt she had to cry.

“He couldn’t even give me a decent reason.” Liv said, without much push from Grace. “Just said it had run its course and that it was better now because we’d be doing different things at college. Like, he didn’t even give me a chance to make it work.”

It was possibly the smartest thing Grace had ever heard come straight from his mouth but she had to try her hardest not to look so surprised.

“I really love him, mom. I thought he loved me, too.”

Grace takes a deep breath and tucks her hand under her cheek. Her other hand reaches out to swipe strands of hair from Liv’s face that were getting stuck in her eyes.

“You shouldn’t feel bad about that, Livvie. Love is an amazing thing. It shows your maturity and your heart and even if he doesn’t understand it himself, you should be proud you felt something for another person.” Grace explains.

“Is this what it’s like, though? First love or whatever you call it? ‘Cos I don’t think I can hack it.”

Grace sighs. She really didn’t want to have this conversation with her daughter while she was still young. She didn’t really want to have it all, not at least until she was twenty-five and possibly only just starting to think about love for the first time having spent her youth focussing on working really hard and graduating valedictorian with a Doctorate at Yale. The dreams you hold for your children, she thinks.

“It’s very complicated, I’ll give you that. It’s not as simple as love exactly, it’s more like a lot of different emotions and feelings and some can feel very confusing. It can be uncomfortable but it’s also a lot of fun and it can be exciting, too. There’s nothing more remarkable that a first love.”

Grace smiles at her daughter, who manages to reciprocate a small smile back. She’s trying, Grace thinks. She was hoping to get through to her a little bit tonight so it wouldn’t hurt as much in the morning. Then, perhaps, she might see a light at the end of the tunnel. 

“What was yours like?”

Grace thinks for a second, Liv hanging on to what was coming. “I think everyone’s experience is a little different but these things stay with you, no matter how much you get passed it. It’s why they say you always remember it.”

“That sucks.” Liv mutters. “I don’t really wanna remember this, if it feels this bad.”

Liv sniffles away another tear and Grace runs her hand soothingly over her hair. 

“Did it hurt for you as well? Did you have your heart broken when you were my age.”

Still running her hand gently over her daughter’s head, Grace thinks for a second.

“Well, I was perhaps a little older than you are now but that doesn’t really matter. It won’t always hurt as much as it does now, though, I can promise you that.”

“Maybe it’ll tell me what to do next time, right? So it’ll be better?”

“Yeh, maybe.”

It was the best Grace could give her daughter. Liv was savvy and she likely wouldn’t have accepted anything else. She was emotionally very mature for her age. Grace knew as much when, years earlier, she witnessed her comfort her three-year-old brother after they lost their pet rabbit. Every once in a while, she would go back to that time, listening outside his bedroom door as Liv cuddled him and told him Betsy was going to an awesome place where she would be spoiled rotten with treats.

“It must have been cool when you eventually met Dad.”

“Of course. He gave me you and your brother.”

Liv sighs and her eyes start looking a little tired. Nothing like crying to completely exhaust you.

“It doesn’t matter so much how you get there,” Grace starts. “But you should never close yourself off to new experiences life will throw at you. It won’t feel like it now but there’s so much out there waiting for you, Livvie, and I just know you’re gonna have a wonderful life. With someone wonderful, too, whoever it will be.”

“And when you find the right person, you don’t think about the other one anymore.” Liv responds, sleep creeping its way into her voice. It wasn’t so much a question as it was a personal thought to herself, one that seemed to give Liv some relief. 

So Grace didn’t question it. 

“You think we’re crazy, don’t you?” 

Scott looks to the ceiling as he works his mind through a serious of responses that might give Chris the encouragement and support that he seemed to be looking for. It was nearly seven in the evening, the sun was low in the sky, and neither of them had the energy to get up and make some food. 

“No, I think you’re in love although there isn’t much of a difference to be fair.” he muses. “So, how is this gonna play out exactly? What timeframe are you guys looking at?” 

“Um…” 

Chris didn’t have those answers. Neither he nor Sarah had thought much beyond the ‘oh wow how amazing is this going to be!?’ phase that comes along with deciding you’re going to move in with someone. There were nerves of course but that all seemed to ebb away as soon as they started thinking about what the future could hold for them both. The thought of picking out china patterns really did something to him apparently. In a good way. 

It had been a few weeks since they had decided to take the plunge. Surprisingly, they had both found a quiet eagerness to tell most people despite them both initially agreeing to keep things quiet, at least just until they knew for sure that it was definitely happening. For Chris, though, “people” didn’t always include Scott so he ended up knowing almost straight away, and Sarah had found Audrey was just scarily prescient at guessing things, so she knew pretty soon afterwards as well. Chris was almost certain she and Scott were now talking to each other on a daily basis. His suspicions were confirmed when he spied Scott buying baby toys online. 

They were met with a lot of different reactions, the majority of them positive, thankfully, or at least that was how Sarah had chosen to take them at the time. There were definite variations of surprise and shock and Seriously? You?? 

That had been Chris’ fault. He had always been vocal about wanting to remain in Massachusetts, so steadfast was he to maintaining some semblance of normality in the face of what he had chosen to pursue as a career. Also, he wasn’t exactly known for his commitment so he had to answer some tough questions about that as well. He really didn’t enjoy having this pointed out to him multiple times in the same 24-hour period either. 

“But you hate everywhere else.” Was one such helpful comment curtesy of Brian, an old pal from high school who had just moved back to the area after a decade of living in Canada. “And there’s, like, other people there. People who you don’t know.” 

“Is there a Dunkin’ nearby? ‘Cos you’re gonna be fuckin’ unbearable if there isn’t one.” Came Mark’s contribution. 

It was so nice that his friends were thinking of the bigger picture, Chris thought to himself as he lay on his sofa, beer in hand, this Thursday evening. Scott had ventured over to borrow something but that had been forgotten about and it was now three hours later and they could both feel hangovers slowly coming on. 

“They’re just guys, you know?” Scott offered. “It’s how they deal with stuff, like, joking around about it. They’ll probably miss you once you’re gone.”

“Probably?!” 

“Obviously they will miss you, we all will, but it’s not like you’re moving to another country, or Alaska or some shit.” 

“I know you’re right, it’s just…” He waved his hand above him to try and conjure up the right words but nothing came to mind. “I know they’re happy for me and everything, I just didn’t realise I was so predictable and mundane. Mom said I’m not spontaneous so she was surprised but I think I’m spontaneous, right? Scott? I’ve done impulsive shit before.” 

“I don’t think buying a different brand of beer counts as impulsive. Buying a house in a different State? Yeh, I’d say you’ve definitely proven them wrong this time.” 

“And,” Chris leans up, swinging his legs off the side of the sofa so he’s sitting upright. “I’m gonna do lots of spontaneous shit from now on. I’m gonna really surprise folks, make that my new thing. That’s gonna be my new opera.”

“Modus operandi?” 

“Yes! That’s the shit. Definitely.” He pointed defiantly at Scott. “In fact, I’m gonna call Sarah right now and tell her.” 

“Won’t that defeat the object?” 

“Nah, I’m just gonna tell her so she can prepare herself.” 

“Prepare herself for spontaneity? OK, cool, makes sense.” 

Chris dismisses his brother with a wave of his hand and staggers off to the kitchen to grab his phone. He holds it tightly like he might drop it and squints at the numbers until they make sense so he can safely locate the profile for ‘Bernette’. Carefully, he presses the call button and sways unsteadily on his feet until, after a few rings, she answers. 

“Hey! What’s up?” comes the sweet reply and he melts a little at her soft tone. She’s always happy to hear from him no matter the time of the day or night, and it never fails to make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Admittedly, though, the alcohol may be doing some of the heavy lifting on this occasion. 

“Ohhh…” Is all he can manage at first. “You’re so lovely, do you know that?”

She laughs as she realises what’s going on. “I do, thank you. You tell me that a lot.” 

“Well, good! Someone should and I’m very glad it’s me.” 

“What’s up, Chris?” She asks again, trying to hide her obvious giggling. 

“Oh yeh! So, I just wanted to say that Scott and I have been talking and we both think it’s time that I did some really surprising stuff, you know? Like, die my hair blue or…go sky-diving! Like, why don’t we go sky-diving next week?!” Chris is pretty sure he’s just had the best idea of all time. “OH MY GOD it’d be so much fun, Sarah! I did it once before but I had my eyes closed the entire time.” 

“Err I’m going to take a pass on that, buddy, thank you, and I think you should, too. Isn’t there something in your contract that stops you from doing stuff like that before a shoot? Like, hazardous pursuits or something?” 

He rolls his eyes to the top of his head as he tries to locate the memory of some upcoming work. Something blurry comes into focus but he quickly shakes it out and replaces it with a memory of Sarah instead. He smiles softly to himself and Scott looks confused when he sees him. 

“Hi Sarah!” Scott yells from the other side of the counter as he opens the fridge to retrieve another bottle of beer. 

“Oh hey! Tell him I said hi.” Sarah tells Chris on the other end of the line. 

“She says ‘fuck you’” Chris grins, far too proud of himself, and Scott flips him his middle finger before walking out of the kitchen again. 

“Oh, that is not what I said at all but OK, I’m gonna leave you guys to it. Maybe call me in the morning when you’re a little more sober, yeh?” She suggests with a chuckle and is about to hang up until Chris stops her. 

“Wait, wait, wait…I just wanted to say I am so happy we are doing this. I mean it. It’s gonna be so freakin’ awesome.” He sways a little more on his feet, tears starting to prickle at the corners of his eyes. “I’m gonna learn to cook and we’re gonna garden and build birdhouses together.” 

She smiles, both at the likelihood of him never remembering this conversation ever again and at the utter pile of sopping wet cuteness he becomes when he’s drunk a little too much. He could be so ridiculously lovable sometimes; it made her heart skip a beat. 

“And then we’re gonna have sex in every room of the house.” He says, boldly.

“Get a room!” Scott’s loud addition came barrelling down the line as clear as daylight causing Sarah to rub her brow in mild embarrassment, and she wasn’t even in the same room as the pair of idiots. 

“We will, Scott! We’ve got like, twenty, of ‘em now!” Chris yells back causing Sarah to swiftly jerk the phone away from her ear. “Anyway, where was I? Oh yeh, the sex is gonna be amazing, and-” 

“-As romantic as I am sure this is about to be,” She interrupts him again. “Let’s save this for another time, yeh?” 

“Ohhh….” He winks at her even though she can’t see him, and clicks his tongue. “Gotcha.” 

As hard as it was for Sarah to finally get him to stop talking over her, they eventually ended the call. Or at least she did; he just sort of trailed off like he usually did when he was on the wrong side of sober and she became convinced he’d forgotten to put the phone down. 

Chris was left staring at her name and photo on his phone screen. He rubbed his eye free of the tears that had formed and the tiredness that had made an unwelcome appearance in his beer-addled brain. 

“So, has she dumped you yet?” Scott asks when he, again, appears in the doorway. “Oh my god, why are you crying?” 

“I’m not crying, I’m just…” He thinks for a second, still looking at her photograph on his phone. “I think this is what happiness is.” 

 * 

The sale of the house was deceptively easy all things considered. Sarah figured it was because of the money. Money can get you anywhere you want to go faster than a blink of an eye. The more zeroes that appear on a cheque, the easier it is to make things work. That was, apparently, a rule of life she had learned, albeit rather reluctantly. 

She had learned it from the early days of working in private hospitals where she would routinely witness the more well-off folk try and pay their way to the front of long queues. Queues for knee replacements, queues for personal medications, queues for transplants… You name it, everything had its price and it was a fact that made her feel rather despondent. After a while, she decided to cut her losses and seek work in the public sector instead. It wasn’t easier but it felt fairer at least, ironically. 

So, that was that. 

Chris texted her a simple “Done x” one afternoon while she was getting changed into her normal clothes so she could walk home following the end of her shift. She felt shaky on the ground, her feet feeling alien to the rest of her body, a light-headedness filling her brain seemingly out of nowhere. She didn’t know what to say back to him but she knew she had to say something at least. He’d just paid an extraordinary amount of money and was uprooting his entire life for her. Something would be better than nothing, but nothing was all she had. 

Audrey 17.02pm: Wow that was fast! 

Audrey 17.03pm: Congrats!! We’ll need to celebrate soon. I can finally drink wine from this Sunday…… xx 

Sarah sat on the bench in front of her locker, her phone in her hand as she rested her elbows on her knees. She took a deep breath and opened Chris’ message again. It wasn’t like she had misread it or anything. 

Sarah 17.11pm: Thank you x 

She regretted it as soon as she had sent it but didn’t have time to correct it or build on it before Chris’ quick response pinged in her hands. 

Chris 17.11pm: You’re welcome roomie x 

He likely knew she was stuck for what to say and the fact he knew that caused tears to fill her eyes until she couldn’t quite make out the screen anymore.

There was a lot she needed to do, a lot she needed to get organised, but that was all practical stuff. It was stuff to be added to a list, to be put into boxes or to be donated. It was emails she had to send to people, companies she had to let know about a change of address, notice she had to provide the hospital with now she could definitively tell them she was leaving and, most likely, leaving soon. It was people she hadn’t told yet. 

Like her mother. 

Chris 17.22pm: Will call later. Just driving. Love you x 

She took a deep breath and packed her bag before leaving the locker room. She passed by a couple of her colleagues and exchanged rather cheerful goodbyes. It was all so melodramatic, she thought to herself as she vacated the ambulance bay before turning down the street. It wasn’t like she was about to turn around and say her very last goodbye, but it felt like that was what was about to happen. It was silly. 

She grabbed a small tub of ice cream on the way home and waited for Chris to call her. As if sensing she was ready for him, the phone rang a little after 6.20pm. 

“Sooo?” He posed, playfully. “Cool, right? We’re gonna be roommates.” 

“God, yeh.” She dug the spoon deep into the ice cream so it could hold it for a second while she adjusted herself into a more comfortable position on her couch. “Crazy how fast these things can move.” 

Chris was quiet for a second longer than was comfortable. “But that’s good, right? I mean, it’s done, the thing we wanted?” 

“Absolutely! I’m just…” She couldn’t put into words what she was trying to say and he wasn’t there to watch her body language, which was highly inconsiderate of him. “It’s awesome. I don’t know what to say.” 

She could hear him move around as he made himself comfortable on his sofa. Something clunked on the floor and she realised he was taking his shoes off.

“You know you’re gonna have to tell Joss, right? It’s gonna be hella awkward if we bump into her in the supermarket.” He pretended like he was finding all of this amusing but she could tell there was a definite undertone of concern and, probably, annoyance. 

“I know. I’m gonna call her this evening, I promise. At least knowing it’s all done means she has no choice in the matter now and she can’t mither me about it.”

God, that sounded depressing, she thought to herself. 

“You think she will? Be cross about it, I mean.” 

“No, I’m probably being unfair towards her. But I’ll need to come up with some clever way of telling her we’re doing it ‘cos we love the scenery or the schools or something.” 

“Schools, eh?” He joked and she can picture the exact look on his face as he says it, slightly playful and frisky. How she wished she was with him right now so he could do that thing where he hugs her tightly to his chest and all her anxieties fade away into nothingness while they watch Arrested Development.

“OK, no, not schools, let’s not give her a panic attack just yet.” Sarah says.

“Just tell her I’m a big fan of their football team or something.” Chris shrugs.

“They don’t have one.” 

“I…what?” He stopped dead. “How can they not have their own NFL team?!” 

“I don’t know, they just don’t.” She says, a mouth full of ice cream. “I thought you knew this already?” 

“Er, no! I sorta thought they might just be a bit crap or something so no one ever mentioned them.” He seemed genuinely surprised by this seemingly brand-new information. “I mean, this changes everything, Bernette. I can’t be seen to live in a football-free town. I have a reputation to maintain.” 

He’s glad to hear her laughing again. 

“This is weird. I should be there with you.” He says, quietly turning serious. He didn’t want to crack jokes; he wanted to talk about living together and all the nice things they could do with their time. Nice, comforting, possibly energetic things. 

“Well, we’ll have a lot of that soon enough. You’ll be sick of seeing me before long so get your personal guy-time in now while you can.” 

“It’s so cute how you think that I am ever going to get sick of you. I think you’re kinda stuck with me now, you know?” 

“Really?” 

“Hmm.” 

They stay on the phone for a little while longer, long enough for Sarah to eat halfway down the tub of ice cream before she feels bad for not eating a proper dinner first. Chris was entirely supportive of her decision, however. Likely a sign of things to come, he said. He’d fill a whole fridge with enough ice cream for the both of them if they wanted. Any and all flavours. 

Ah fuck it, she thinks. She’s a grown-up. She can do whatever the hell she likes, including choosing where to live with her boyfriend and not have to feel edgy about telling her mother. 

So, she tried her hardest to calm her nerves down as she settled back on her couch an hour or so later. The sugar high slowly creeping into her bloodstream was causing her pulse to beat a little more and it was not at all helping her maintain a steady sense of rhythm, physical and otherwise. No matter what ideas Chris gave her, she still wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of telling her mother that she, a grown-ass woman, was finally moving in with her boyfriend. Even reminding her of how much she like Chris didn’t seem like the right way to go. Maybe all of this semi-reluctance was a result of left-over guilt from a childhood where she occasionally strayed out of the lines and had spent years trying to make up for it by doing a “proper”, respectful job that she and Noah had both been insanely proud of. 

It wasn’t going to help matters now, though. The more she sat looking at her phone, her finger hovering over the green ‘call’ button just below a photo of Jocelyn, the sillier she felt. 

What was the worse that was going to happen? 

“Sarah, why? I’m not a child. I can look after myself.” 

Oh yeh. That. 

“I’m not saying that, mom” She tried to calm Jocelyn down. “We both want to do it. It’d be a nice change for the pair of us and Chris loves the area.” 

She could hear her mother’s eye roll from across the state line. She would have done the same, truth be told. 

“Oh, I am just sure Christopher wants to move to a random part of the country where he knows no one and is even further away from where he works, Sarah.” She spoke, dripping her words in sarcasm like only she knew how. “You think I’m an idiot but I see what you are both doing. I don’t need you to babysit me. I am fine. I promise you; I am OK.” 

Jocelyn attempted to soften those last few words, perhaps realising she was being a little harsh, but not soft enough to let Sarah think she would be in any way OK or accepting enough of this decision any time soon. 

“Oh, mom…” Sarah sighed again as was the theme for this conversation, her head looking down to her lap. She should have had this conversation in person. “I thought you’d like having us closer. And it’s not further away for him either. He can work anywhere, and he probably will do, too. He could live in the Arctic Circle if he wanted to.” 

“That’s ridiculous. The wifi would be atrocious. He’d never get his emails all the way up there.” 

Now it was Sarah’s turn to roll her eyes. 

“I was speaking with hyperbole but OK.” She said. “Point still stands, he can live and work wherever he wants to. It makes no difference to him.”

“The difference is he would be leaving his family. What about them? What do they think? And what about your job come to think of it?”

“Well, I’ll…”

Sarah didn’t have a definitive answer for that right this minute but she would do, eventually, if her mother would just give her a goddamn minute. If there was one thing Jocelyn was very accomplished at, it was firing off blunt questions to undo someone’s argument. Sarah had lived with it as a teenager when she would attempt to sneak back into the house after a party. It didn’t have to be family either, though; she witnessed her do it with a stranger in a “MAGA” cap she had once seen sitting in a restaurant. Sarah could have almost felt a little sorry for the guy if, you know, he hadn’t turned out to be such a massive racist. 

“I haven’t thought about that yet but I transferred to Nashua before so I think I can transfer again if I want to. They’re crying out for nurses all over the place.” 

Sarah wasn’t 100% sure if that was accurate but it sounded about right. It was passable. Jocelyn seemed to accept it anyhow. 

“But Chris’ family?” She pressed again. “They can’t be over the moon about this.”

“Actually, they have all been really supportive. Lisa’s really happy. Surprised, but happy.”

“Have you heard that from them directly? Or is it just what Chris has said to you? Do you think he would likely say that to protect your feelings?”

“I…” Oh for God’s sake. “No, he wouldn’t just say that and we’re within driving distance anyway so it’s not like we’ll never see them. Honestly, mom, you’re acting like you live in the middle of the ocean or something when you’re literally only a couple of hours away. Lisa’s even said she’d love to come and visit the area next week and maybe catch up with you or something.”

“I just don’t want him feeling like he’s trapped.” Jocelyn had clearly chosen not to hear the nice thing Sarah had just mentioned.

“Why would he feel trapped? This was his idea…”

Jocelyn went silent on the end of the line. Sarah could no longer even hear her breathing.

“Mom?” She chanced it after a minute. “You alright?”

Yet again, silence. She heard what she thought was Jocelyn breathing in and out through her nose like she was doing yoga but likely she was just steeling herself for what to say.

“So, which area are you guys looking at?” Came her rather tempered response.

“Um…” Sarah wasn’t actually prepared for that question but hopefully it would steer the conversation into more pleasing territory. For now, at least. “Well, we’ve sort of found somewhere near Vinalhaven as it happens. Just over the coastline.”

“Oh, right.” Jocelyn seemed a little more interested now but didn’t want Sarah to know that just yet. “It’s very nice around there.”

“Yes, Chris thought so, too. Lots of private spaces and he’s always been into boats so he hopes it might finally push him into sailing.”

Jocelyn chuckled, fondly. “It’s a shame Noah didn’t get to spend more time with him. I think they would have had shared some good beers on his boat.”

Sarah smiled. If nothing else, they could both agree on that. 

 * 

Night shifts weren’t the best but on occasion, if the gods were smiling down on them all, they could provide a sweet little opportunity to catch up with some life admin. Or a game of Words-With-Friends that she had going on with an old college pal who now lived in a different time zone.

That night was one such night and Sarah found herself sitting alone in the canteen on the 7th floor, in the far corner near the door to the secret balcony few people were aware of. The door looked like a Fire Exit except the alarm had been deactivated years earlier following an inspection, and was now used as a all-too-literal escape for when you needed five minutes peace.

She sat there quietly for twenty minutes, playing a couple of rounds of the game and flipping through some photos of Benji that Audrey had sent earlier that day. The coffee in front of her was now cold and far too sweet but she would still drink it. The place was empty except for Raffey who was cleaning up around her and mopping the floor in time for the day staff to take over.

Something clinked in the near distance that spurred her from her relative tranquility, and she clocked the time on her watch. 3.05am. It should be illegal to be working this late. Or early. She didn’t know which it qualified as.

She had always felt that there was a portion of the night shift, somewhere between 3am and 5am, that should have its own name for how utterly and ridiculously weird it felt. It was too late for the drunken antics to stumble through the front doors, but too early for people to start having innocent accidents around their own homes. It was just…nothingness.

“Night Sarah.” Came Raffey’s tired drawl.

She turned in time to catch him placing the mop back in the cleaner’s cupboard and wave a half-hearted hand in her direction.

“Night Raff. Get home safe.”

Some of the motion-sensor lights eventually darkened down giving the place a more serene and peaceful ambiance. The light from her phone was the brightest thing in the entire place now. It was only serving to make her feel sleepier, though, but she didn’t have the energy to move quite yet. There wasn’t nothing going on downstairs thankfully, but up here she could take her break in peace without feeling guilty that she wasn’t doing more to help on her scheduled break.

“You want some company?” Came a familiar voice from the shadows.

Sarah looked up in time to find Chris casually leaning against a conical pillar, his car keys dangling between his fingers. She smiles at him briefly before turning back to her phone on the table.

“I told you not to come.”

“Yeh, but when have I ever done what you told me to?” He said, playfully scrunching his nose up at her as he moves closer to where she is sat. He pulls out the chair across the table from her. “Why break the habit of a lifetime?”

“That’s not healthy, you know, doing the opposite thing all the time. It doesn’t bode well for us. I’m gonna have to try reverse psychology or something.”

He slid down into the uncomfortable plastic chair and yawned a little. She noticed it immediately and flicked her fingernails at her half-empty cup, inviting him to take a sip. He took it, gladly. He’d grown to like cold brews now, cups of tea or coffee that had been steeped in their own flavours for far too long.

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, pal.” He said, winking as much as his tired eyes would allow him. “This way, you get to say what you think you should say while still getting the thing you so obviously want but seem to insist on denying yourself.”

Maybe it was the sheer exhaustion at this point of the week, or maybe she didn’t hear him correctly, but he really did know her better than she knew herself.

“See?” He interrupted her thoughts as if on cue and waggled his finger between the pair of them. “It works this, you and me.”

She chose to ignore his comments instead focussing on his faintly watery eyes. “You look shattered.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” He shakes off her comment almost as quickly as she made it, before taking another sip of her coffee. “How long you got left?”

She looked at her watch and sighed, defeated.

“About four hours.” She said. “You’re not gonna stay, are you? I don’t think I can hide you anywhere for too long unless you want to hang out in the mortuary.”

Chris ponders that a second longer than she expected him to, and is relieved when she sees him shake his head.

“I’ll be fine.” He says. “I’ll head over to yours and come get you when you’re done.”

She smiles, gratefully. More than grateful, truth be told. It seems it’s pretty much just him and pictures of her friend’s baby that only serve to make her feel even remotely light and breezy these days. That and YouTube videos of dogs that get shared around her team.

“Don’t worry about it, if you fall asleep. It will only take me twenty minutes to get back home.”

“No way, I’m not that tired. I won’t fall asleep until you’re home again. I still want some attention, too, you know.” He smiles sleepily at her before yawning once more and it almost sets her off. “I got something for you by the way.”

He leans to one side so he can dive his hand into the pocket of his suede jacket and fish something out that is completely hidden from her view. From the awkward look on his face, it’s not a small thing but she is pleasantly surprised when he places a small, plastic container in front of her.

She raises an eyebrow curiously at him and is gifted with a sheepish smile in return. Upon tugging at the plastic ribbon and opening the tub, she’s greeted with a small, round cupcake. It’s decorated with a glittery white frosting that pretty much doubles the height of the sweet treat, and what she soon realises is an iced image of a house, cartoonish almost in its appearance.

“I had to stop for gas and I saw it in their display. Probably tastes awful…” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing. “But I thought it was cute. I just realised I hadn’t bought you a gift as like a ‘Congratulations’ or whatever and apparently, Mom says, I should do that.”

The corners of her eyes crinkle as she squints a little at the iced picture on top. She’s momentarily quiet before she meets his eyes again and mouths a ‘thank you’. 

“I don’t have anything for you.”

“Well, if you want to bring some waffles home when you’re done, I won’t stop you.” He chuckles, a winsome look on his face as he regards her holding the cupcake in its casing and tracing her finger over the icing. “You could keep that, y’know. There’s probably enough sugar in it to preserve it for centuries.”

Instead, she swipes her index finger across the top and finds the icing softer than it looks. Taking a lick off her finger, he laughs at her.

“Or that. That’s also cool.” He laughs again. 

He watches as she laughs also, ridiculous cupcake in her hand. He holds his hand out to her and she takes it, tying their fingers together. 

“You’re so cute.” He says. “This is gonna be fun.”

The three men, all smartly-dressed and wearing confidence as easy as if it was a watch, were currently stood in a circle, laughing at something hilarious he had just said. Judging by some of the hand signals, it was football related. No surprise, really. She had been made aware curtesy of Sam this morning that the Patriots were officially heading to the Super Bowl for the third year in a row. Both he and Dan had even started making plans for the food fest they were going to enjoy whilst watching it. 

Another loud laugh bellowed from one of the men, an older gentleman who evidently liked his suits to come equipped with pocket watches clashing patterns, and Andy looked to make his excuses to let the group move on. They briefly disappear into an office behind where they were stood before Andy reappears and starts striding with purpose towards her office. 

She quickly ducks behind a bookshelf just in time to see him materialise in the doorway. He looks around for a second to locate her before seeing her awkwardly crouched down beside her desk. 

“You OK down there?” He looks at her with faint amusement. 

“Yeh, course. Just looking for…this.” She grabs any white file and stands up, flashing it to him as though that would act as proof she was being genuine. 

“Tax law?” He asks, quickly spying the title before she puts the file face-down on her desk. 

“Yeh. For the Matherson thing.” She straightens up and tucks the loose hair behind her ear. “So, what’s up?” 

He narrows his eyes before thinking better of mocking her. 

“There’s a couple of guys I thought you would like to meet. They’re from Yale. Max Ellison is running a mentor scheme next semester and has asked me to recommend a couple of the best, annnnd…” 

He holds his hands out in front of him to indicate that he was most obviously talking about her. Which he didn’t think he would have to do but she looked much like a rabbit caught in the headlights almost as soon as he had entered her office. 

“Me?” She points to herself. 

“No, Cindy Crawford. Of course, you!” 

“But why? Max is a bit of legend, isn’t he? You should be choosing the very best to make yourself look good.” 

He opens his mouth to speak. He’s not sure if she’s being serious right now or if this is one of those moments where she has a crisis of conscience and he should offer some soothing words of wisdom. Like he even had any. He never did understand women. 

“Exactly. I’m obviously suggesting you because even though you’re still new here, you’ve been making a name for yourself and I think that type of story will resonate more with the students.” He says, his voice now lower and as he moves towards her. “And I kind of figured I made it clear the other night that you are the best.” 

The heat radiating from him as he stands just inches from her momentarily clouds her brain, so much so that she swallows thickly and tries to regain her composure. It was really not OK that they were both tempting fate like this. 

The morning after. 

He watches her silently as she moves around the room. She is being extra careful to gather her things together without trying to wake him, he figures. She doesn’t know he’s awake yet or that he has been awake for the past twenty or so minutes after he heard her start the shower. He doesn’t make any move to let her know he’s awake either; he honestly doesn’t know when or even if he’ll get to do this again. Just watching her with ease, making him feel peaceful. 

She tucks her laptop back into its case and zips the side shut. She ponders something for a second, placing a hand on her hip while she glances back towards the television cabinet, and he sees her reach for her phone charger.

She unlocks the phone screen and he can tell there’s messages waiting for her. Likely Dan, he suspects, and he can’t help but feel his heart sink a little at the intrusive thought. Back to reality. 

“Hey,” he speaks with a slightly groggier tone than is entirely accurate of how he is feeling. 

She turns to look at him, lying on his front, both arms hugging the pillow beneath his head. He looks as adorable as he did back then, the years in-between making no difference to his boyish handsomeness. 

“Hi.” She says quietly. “I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“S’Ok. I was just dozing.” He manoeuvres his body slightly so he can lie on his side. “You getting ready to go?” 

“Um, yeh.” She looks a little bashful. “But I wasn’t gonna go without saying goodbye or anything.” 

“I wouldn’t blame you. Not like I haven’t done it before.” 

There was a lot of unanswered questions hanging between them and a lot they would likely have to talk about. When exactly, she couldn’t say, and she was hoping he wouldn’t ask just yet. 

At some point in the middle of the night, they had laid in bed facing one another, both wrapped up in the sheets. He was running his hand gently up and down her arm, her skin so smooth under his fingertips. No tension, no goosebumps, just comfort and warmth and a sense of calm that they were both locked away from the outside world, if only for a few hours, before daylight arrived and brought them both crashing back down to Earth. But not before he coaxed another orgasm from her tired body. 

He moved to lie on top of her, threading his arm underneath her head and kissing her passionately as though it might be the last time he would get to do so. It was soft and warm and all the ways she liked being kissed. There was the all-too-familiar strength that had never failed to keep her safe and secure when she held on to him as he moved inside her. He pushed her to the edge time and time again, not quite letting her go until he decided he wanted to. He kept a firm grasp on her as he held her down and took her breath away, pulling at her hair wrapped loosely between his fingers before finally cumming with a slow, satisfied gasp. 

She remembered a lot about how he used to make her feel back then. It was like they were the only two people for miles around. They could stay like that, in their self-made cocoon, for as long as she wanted. He was never impatient with her, even when she was certain he had other, better, things to do with his time. He had never made her feel like she wasn’t wanted or that she was getting in his way, which she occasionally thought she might have been such was her lack of self-esteem back then. 

She figured other girls were made to feel the same way. No one ever had a bad word to say about him, even back then when he had more of a cockiness about him, a certain swagger that you could enjoy but from a safe distance. She wasn’t naïve. 

His body looked and felt much the same way, too. Hard and soft in all the right places, still keenly working out and taking good care of himself but not obsessively so. She once told him that the luck of the Irish had given him an impressive physique without much effort but he would coolly shrug it off. One thing that was new was the tattoo on his chest, a quote she couldn’t quite make out in the dark but she saw the outline of it closely enough when she ran her fingers across it as she looked down at him and felt him shiver under her touch.

It was all so familiar, more familiar than she had ever thought it would be. She didn’t know she had held on to so many of the memories until now, as she looked across at him and ran her fingers soothingly down his cheek. He smiled softly at her, tiredness gradually appearing in his eyes. 

He didn’t want to fall asleep, not yet. He wanted to stay awake so she might come to him and let him take her all over again. 

Present Day… 

He feels a little bad. He’s obviously taken it a step too far. He tilts his head and smiles at her before taking a step back and beckons towards the door. 

“…You wanna?” 

She thinks for a second. She does wanna, but she’s not prepared. Not even close for someone like Max Ellison. 

“Don’t worry.” He reassures her when he spies the panic creeping onto her face. “I’ve buttered them up with the prospect of Superbowl tickets so you could tell them you think Morrison’s report is a vital addition to Wilson Huhn’s framework and they would love you regardless.” 

“They’d have to be drunk to believe that, surely?” 

He chuckles as he follows her out of her office. She was right; Morrison was an idiot and no lawyer worth their salt would use his ideas in an argument. 

As it turned out, she didn’t need to be there at all. Andy had them both eating out of the palm of his hand with tales of Jack’s past shenanigans (it turned out Ellison had gone to college with him back in Ohio) and some inside joke about a man named Doug and his pet chihuahua who regularly accompanied him to Court. Apparently, he would bark at the guilty parties but stay silent if he thought they were innocent. Grace had vaguely heard of such a person but she had always assumed it was a myth or a joke that had gotten out of hand in certain circles. 

She headed back to her office afterwards. Andy appeared moments later after he had shown the gentlemen out. 

“So?” He posed, taking a seat in the chair opposite her. He looked far too confident. 

No matter how cool or slick Andy pretended he was these days, he couldn’t completely hide the childlike glee of being able to do something so utterly ridiculous for a living. And being a Lawyer, deciding the fates of complete strangers, was that ridiculous. 

“I don’t know….” 

He frowned at her before leaning forward in his chair so he could place his elbows on her desk. That was a move usually reserved for convincing people they were being unrealistic in their expectations of a settlement, or that they were not going to get the very thing they so desperately wanted. She didn’t much care for it in this scenario, though; she likely knew she wasn’t going to win. 

“At least let us put forward a session plan. This could be a good move for you, for the company, and Jack is behind it 100%. Plus…” He trailed off as he contemplated his next words. “It might give us the opportunity to spend a bit of time together, work together again like the old days.” 

He tries to hide the potential disappointment lingering beneath his carefully poised façade, ready to surface if her response wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

They hadn’t ended things in a bad way when they left the hotel. In fact, if anything, it left him with a sense of hope. Not hope that this was going to become something per se, but it was enough for him that Grace had at least acknowledged his sentiment that it had been an amazing night. She shouldn’t be so surprised that he wanted to maintain some form of personal company with her in light of everything they had shared. 

“Look, I’m not going to make any demands of you if that’s what you’re worried about. If this was a mistake then I’d rather you just said so.” He said. “You don’t need to protect my feelings. I’m a big boy, I can handle it.” 

Was that what she was doing? Protecting his feelings? Or was she protecting her own? 

She hadn’t particularly had much time to consider the implications of what had gone on between them. In the morning after, Andy had walked her to her car parked in the underground garage and kissed her softly on her cheek before they parted ways. As soon as she left the hotel, almost within the very same hour, she was back home and in the arms of her familial comforts. Andy had only asked if she could message him that weekend, just to let him know she was OK, and she had done that very thing. But…that had been all. By the time Monday had arrived and he had smiled warmly at her across the table in the boardroom during one of Jack’s impromptu catch-ups, she felt like she had let him down in some way. He didn’t deserve it when it was her own issues that had put them in this position. 

He had been honest; he wasn’t going to make any demands of her. He had never done such a thing before and he certainly wasn’t going to start now. He trusted her enough to allow her to figure it out in her own mind and when she did, he trusted she would tell him what was going on. For now, he just wanted to be around her in any way he could. Even if that was restricted to just these four walls of the office. 

“I am sorry, Andy. I don’t really know what I’m thinking to be honest.” She says, quietly. 

“And that’s OK. I don’t want to put pressure on you, I just didn’t want to leave you with any doubt over what I was thinking.” He attempts to comfort her. “And I think about you a lot.” 

He would have reached out to touch her if they had a bit more privacy but he’s acutely aware she wouldn’t be able rest if he did so, not with people milling around outside and the annoyance of having so many damn glass walls placed around the building. He shouldn’t complain about them, he had a fair few himself at home, but they had never gotten in his way before. 

“Could I maybe think about it for a day or two?” she finally asks. 

“Of course!” 

She wasn’t expecting him to agree to that, much less with such enthusiasm. Then again, she was also not expecting to decide within the hour that she was definitely going to do this with him. It would be a great opportunity and another string to her bow, plus a good way of getting familiar with some of Yale’s professors in case her children had those kinds of ambitions later in life. There was a lot of reasons to say ‘yes’. 

Later that evening, Grace is multi-tasking, chopping vegetables and keeping one eye on the Television while Sam lies on the sofa. He’s comfortable and likely won’t move for some time now, not unless food is being offered, and she thinks that’s adorable. He’s definitely her son. 

She never understood the need for a separate living space since the family spent most of their time in the kitchen and dining area. Dan had joked about bomb-proofing it since it pretty much held everything they could ever need if the worst was to happen. 

“Do you want the spiral pasta or the bow-tie one?” Grace asks. 

“Bow-tie.” Sam answered, not moving an inch as far as she could tell. 

Always straight and to the point. She smiles to herself and continues to chop the vegetables for a salad she knows the kids likely won’t eat but nevertheless, she keeps the hope alive. 

The front door goes moments later. Dan walks over to the sofa and kisses Sam on the head before thinking about doing the same to Grace. She can tell he thinks better of it. Instead, he moves to the fridge behind her and grabs a beer.

“Smells nice.” 

“Just the asparagus and chicken that was left over. Nothing fancy.” Grace says. “Was Liv OK?” 

“Yeh, yeh. She’s just getting changed. She scored a couple this time so she’s in a good mood.” Dan says as he leans his forearms on the side of the kitchen island. “Do you need a hand?” 

“No, it’s OK, you can go and relax.” 

She smiles at him and he nods to her, gratefully. She was tired as well but she definitely had some making-up to do, even if he didn’t know it. 

Andy 06.45pm: What’s your stance on dick pics?? 

Her phone buzzes just as she places the pasta in the pan to cook. Wiping her hands on the tea towel nearby, she reaches for it and doesn’t recognise the reaction she’s now feeling. 

Grace 06.48pm: Ummm…I can’t say I’ve ever received one myself. Why? 

Andy 06.49pm: CEO of Veterol has been sending them to his Secretary. Not yet public knowledge so keep that to yourself. 

Grace 06.51pm: Shit 

Grace 06.52pm: I can’t believe that asshole….. 

She googles for a photo of said asshole to make sure it was definitely the same man she was picturing. It was. He looked the type as well. Not that there was a ‘type’ specifically, but he looked smarmy and arrogant enough to think he could get away with it. 

Andy 07.01pm: So youve never had one? 

Was he being serious? 

Grace 07.03pm: That would be a big no thankfully 

Andy 07.04pm: You’re missing out 

Another few seconds and an emoji comes through, the one with a winking face and a tongue sticking out. Oh God, he was a nuisance sometimes. She really didn’t want to spend any longer thinking about the implications of what he was trying to joke about or get into his own personal experiences as the water continued to boil. 

Grace 07.10pm: Goodnight Andrew Barber. 

Emphasis on the full stop at the end. 

Andy 07.14pm: I do love it when you use my full name 

She doesn’t reply again. 

Sometimes, she felt like an old lady (or so Liv would tell her) as she hated the concept of texting and hated even more that things could be so easily misconstrued. And she really didn’t want to get this misconstrued, not when she didn’t know what she was thinking or doing from one moment to the next.

“Can you grab me another one?” 

She looks up from Andy’s message to where the question had come from. Without looking back to where she was stood, Dan holds the empty beer bottle up in his hand. He’s focused on the cartoon that he and Sam had been watching, and he doesn’t say another thing. 

“Dinner’s ready so you can grab it on the way to the table.” She turns around to grab the salad tongs. She can hear Dan’s eye roll from here. “Sam? Can you get your sister?” 

He doesn’t move at first, just waiting for the credits to finish in case there’s something on afterwards, so she asks him once more, sterner this time, and he finally moves. 

“You OK?” Dan asks, putting a couple of the pasta bowls on the table for the kids before turning back to collect the others. 

“Yeh, course. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

He shrugs but doesn’t give her a verbal answer. She doesn’t say anything either but smiles brightly when she sees her daughter for the first time that day. Liv has changed into her unicorn onesie and has her headphones wrapped around her neck. Grace doesn’t mind so much, even if it has become code for planning to leave the table as soon as she’s finished. 

“Looks yummy, Mom.” Liv says enthusiastically. Clearly, scoring a couple of goals at hockey had changed her personality. 

“Thanks darling.” She smiles back at her and decides to chance it and add some salad to their plates. 

These days, it may only be for twenty minutes that Grace can bask in the quiet, pleasantness of family time but it’s worth it and it can make even the most stressful of days inestimably brighter. Sam was happily chewing away on his food and Liv hummed a tune to herself between bites. Grace couldn’t imagine how her life would be without them both. She didn’t much want to imagine, either. 

It had been Dan who had given her this. Right when she needed saving from herself, he had been there. It had only been him. He had provided her with safety and love even if that love was expressed in his own way. It might not be a love that was romantic in the same way anymore, but people change. People grow up and the love changes with them but it doesn’t make it any less valuable or protective or vital for the survival of a marriage and a family. 

No matter what was going on in her head and no matter how often she found herself thinking about Andy, nothing could compare to this. Nothing would even come close. 

“You have got to be kidding me right now.”

Thankfully, Chris couldn’t see through the bathroom door otherwise he would be faced with Sarah’s middle finger. It was also thankful he couldn’t see Sarah gripping the side of the toilet bowl as he hated with a passion the sight – and sound - of someone throwing up. Even if it was him himself hugging a bin, he still couldn’t handle it. Some things just shouldn’t be seen by another human being.

“I don’t know what’s going on…” came Sarah’s strangled whisper in reply.

“You think it was something you ate?” Chris asked, scrunching up his face as he bore witness to more sounds of hurling. “Dude, that’s not right.”

“Yeh, thank you, Chris.” She croaked. “I’m not asking you to stick around, y’know. You can leave at any time.”

He could leave at any time, that was true, but if he left right now, he’d only have the option of returning to his own home. If he went home, he’d likely be met with an angry and ignored Hannah waiting for him on his doorstep and he really didn’t want that. As horrible as it sounded, watching Sarah suffer so horrifically was actually the preference for him right now. And that was when Chris grasped just how much of a shitty boyfriend he truly was.

“I can’t exactly leave you, can I? You might disappear down the toilet bowl if you cling on to it any tighter.” Chris took a deep breath and bravely opened the bathroom door. “Alright, let’s get you up off the floor and get you hydrated.”

Sarah was practically lying fully on her side when he located her after opening the door. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be so weak and almost grey in complexion which went against the glow she normally carried. She never needed much make-up, Chris thought; she just seemed to be blessed with beautiful, clear skin all of the time. That said, a bit of rouge or whatever the fuck it was called wouldn’t go amiss right about now. She looked like a ghost.

“God, you look awful.” He stated with complete seriousness.

“Cheers, pal.”

“You’re welcome.” He laughed when he realised he’d said the first part out loud. “You think you can lean up into me? If I can get you on your feet, I can carry you to your bed.”

She sighed heavily but did as she was told and gingerly rolled onto her front. She placed her hands underneath her and began the arduous process of getting into a semi-kneeling position. With Chris’ hand resting gently on her lower back, she managed to sit back up onto her heels, taking a couple of breaths as she did so to ease the dizziness.

Chris could see how hard it was for her. Even one more inch of exertion could be the difference between her making it back to the comfort of her bed and throwing herself at the mercy of the toilet bowl once again. So, his superhero mentality kicked in and with one smooth movement, he swept his other arm underneath her fragile frame and hoisted her up into his strong arms.

In Chris’ experience, this move would normally have led to ridiculous sex but he was likely out of luck in that department. He did, however, feel strangely proud of himself for overcoming his phobias and coming to the rescue. He’d make a point of reminding her of this fact for the next several years at least.

Sarah felt almost as light as a feather in his arms no doubt thanks to the pounds she’d dropped from throwing up her guts all morning. He felt her curl into him a little before tensing up in his arms.

He nudged her bedroom door open with his knee and slid through the gap, careful not to bang her against the door frame. He moved around the side of her bed so she was the right way up and laid her down on top of her comforter. He was just about to shift the sheet out from underneath her so he could cover her and warm her up a little bit but she shook her head with a groan.

“I’m too hot, just leave it.” She muttered.

The shivering didn’t convince him much but if watching episodes of ER had taught him anything, it was that she was likely developing a fever. He ran the back of his hand over her forehead to check, and pursed his lips. Poor thing.

She tried leaning up onto her side but the weight was too much and she flopped back onto her bed, her head firmly landing on the pillow.

Chris chuckled to himself. “You need some fluids, I think.”

She quickly opened her eyes, almost as though she couldn’t believe what had just come out of his mouth.

“What?!” He asked, mock-offended. “I know some stuff. I’m not just a ridiculously good-looking face.”

He stayed perched on the end of her bed, gently rubbing his hand up and down her arm and, when he saw her eyes close again and felt her breathing settle, he took one last look at her and left her in peace.

He closed the bedroom door and took out his phone from his jeans pocket. He did a quick search of WebMD, then texted his mom. She’d know what to do in this situation. She’d probably seen every horrifying thing in her time raising kids, and then some.

Keep up with the water, she texted, and maybe some vanilla ice cream might help with her temperature. Chicken broth is also good because she’ll need to eat something soon otherwise she’ll feel worse for far longer, and broth isn’t that heavy. Close the windows and give her all the blankets you can find. Comfort is key.

There was a good Chinese down the street, Chris thought. If he ran there now, he could be back in time before he’s spotted. He could get ice cream on the way as well. A plan was slowly forming in his mind.

And that was when Chris realised the difference to your day when you had someone you cared about.