by Laura Riley
Darcy carries on about stranger danger. Ellie’s face becomes more drawn and her shoulders drop.
I’m about to say something when Darcy claps her hands together. “Guess what?”
“What?” Ellie asks, her gaze on me.
“I’ve handed my notice in at the hospital.”
I blink rapidly. “What? Why?”
She lays the bread on the worktop and closes the oven door. “I weighed up what was important to me and where I was needed the most. Seth, we can’t let Ellie go to mainstream school with her condition, it’ll be far too upsetting. I’m going to homeschool her.”
Ellie shakes her head. “But I want to go to school with Freja.”
Darcy shoots me a glance as though I should be agreeing with her. “Freja, isn’t she the child who was at Lizzie’s birthday afternoon?”
I nod.
Darcy crouches so that she’s eye level with Ellie. “Oh, no, honey, we don’t want you mixing with children like that.” She shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “Her mother was an utter disgrace—”
Darcy is just being a bitch; she knows as well as I do there is nothing wrong with Amber. I’ve heard enough, so raise my hand. “Ellie, go watch cartoons.”
Ellie does as I requested. When she’s out of the room I direct my attention to my sister. “Darcy—”
“You’re spending way too much time with that girl, Libby.”
I know her getting her name incorrect was intentional. Darcy remembered her name just fine a few seconds ago. I let out a harsh breath. “Lizzie.”
“You’re confusing Ellie. Having strange women in and out of her life isn’t good for her.”
One woman, the first damn woman I’ve felt anything for in a long time, and Darcy is trying to deny me that. I don’t mention that Anna has moved on and is pregnant with another man’s baby. Anna can do what she wants, screw who she wants. My teeth are clenched so tightly together than my jaw begins to hurt.
“Darcy,” I seethe, “I’d like you to leave.”
“Don’t be daft, I love cooking, it’s really no bother.”
I walk across to the kitchen worktop, grab her bag and push it into her arms. “Not the kitchen. I’d like you to leave my house.”
Her eyes go wide and she blinks several times. “Excuse me?”
“Take your bag, take your food, and leave.”
Her mouth sets into a hard line. “I’ve been here for four hours preparing meals so that you didn’t have to cook when you finished work. I’m trying to help.”
“Help?” I laugh. “How are you trying to help? Ellie had a fantastic day, she left my side to go play with another kid. Something you said she was incapable of doing. Then you tell her she shouldn’t leave my side. What the hell’s wrong with you? Don’t you want her to get better?”
Darcy holds her hands up. “I’m sorry. It goes without saying that I want her to get better. I just don’t want anything to happen to her. She’s safe with us.”
“She needs to get used to other people, other kids. You need to un-hand your notice in at the hospital. Ellie’s going to school in September.”
Darcy’s eyes tear up and she throws her arms around me. Her short hair is soft against my chin.
“You’ve got to back off, Darcy, you know.”
I can feel her body quiver. “I’m sorry, Seth. I just love you both so much.”
Her words tug at my heartstrings. I know she loves us, and I know she means well. Darcy and Dwight weren’t able to have children of their own so I guess Ellie is the next best thing, but I am the parent. “I need you to babysit Ellie tomorrow when I go to the auction, but as for the other days, I promised Ellie we’d spend them with Lizzie as a family.”
Darcy pulls away. “Excuse me?”
“I didn’t mean to say that.”
Her eyes narrow. “But you’re thinking it?”
I try to look convincing. “Slip of the tongue.”
Darcy’s lips pull into a thin line. She doesn’t believe me—hell, I don’t believe me. For the first time, my sister doesn’t call me out on my bullshit. She can’t bear to hear the truth.
Is it wrong to admit, if only to myself, that being with Lizzie completes us, and together we feel like a family?
Lizzie
I line up three wine glasses on the kitchen worktop, one each for me, Chelsea and Amber. I have four bottles cooling in the fridge with our names written all over them. Now there’s just one question left to ask.
“Red or white?” I call.
“Red,” Amber yells.
“White,” Chelsea contradicts.
Of course they would say the opposite. They leave me no option but to place the deciding vote. After opening a bottle of white, I place it and the glasses on a tray and carry them through to the lounge.
I slowly jiggle the tray up and down. “Wine o’clock, ladies.”
A few glasses of wine is all it takes for our conversation to steer to Seth. Chelsea leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “How was your day?”
I bite my lower lip, remembering the way Seth held me, how his body felt next to mine. I suppress a smile. “It was okay.”
Chelsea looks me up and down. “Just okay?”
Amber flutters her eyes. “They looked pretty cosy at the aquarium this afternoon. Quite the little family.”
Is it wrong to admit that was exactly how it felt?
Chelsea wags her eyebrows at me. “Aren’t you and lover boy going to an auction tomorrow?”
Amber and her big mouth. I shoot Amber a look, but her gaze is fixed on the ceiling. Of course it is, Rick’s upstairs. He’s putting extra hours in to give the plastering a push. He said he wants to finish the loft room ready for the painters on Tuesday. I personally don’t think Rick has come to work on a Sunday evening to get a head start on anything other than Amber. Good thing Freja has a sleepover at her gran’s on a Sunday. I’d say Amber will be having her own sleepover.
“He sounds busy up there,” Amber muses.
“He is,” I agree as floorboards creak from above. “He’s like a machine, just keeps going.”
Blushing, Amber sucks in her lips, her eyes not leaving the ceiling. Could she be any more obvious?
I clear my throat. “I have beer in the fridge.”
She glances at me. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I was saying Rick might like a beer. Why don’t you take him one up?”
She jumps to her feet and makes her way to the kitchen. Moments later we can hear her steps on the stairs.
I swipe the bottle of wine from the coffee table and refill our glasses. “More for us.”
Chelsea gives me a knowing glance. “Told you you’d kiss your prince and live happily ever after.”
I’d roll my eyes, but excitement bubbles in my stomach. “I think he could be the one.”
Chelsea bounces up and down on the settee. “Oh, my God, no way. Does he know how you feel?”
I shrug. “I guess, but he’s already said we can’t be more than friends.”
Chelsea rubs the back of her neck, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. “Sucks to be you.”
I sink down into the chair. “You have no idea.”
“Hey, Lizzie, could you come up here?” Rick’s voice echoes down the stairs. We place our glasses on the coffee table and hurry upstairs to see what he wants.
He’s standing on the landing, a plastering trowel in one hand, Amber’s ass in the other.
I wag my finger. “Isn’t there a saying about mixing business with pleasure?”
Amber squeals as he squeezes her ass.
“Have you decided on the colour you want the loft room to be painted?”
I shake my head. “No, but I have a few testers.”
“As I thought. You women are always so indecisive.” Rick’s gaze shoots to Amber, and she mocks offence. There’s a hidden message there somewhere, I’m sure, but Amber refuses to talk to anyone about their relationship.
&n
bsp; Growing up, Amber and I told each other everything. She changed when she started dating this guy, Victor. I only met him once. He was a creep. I told her to stop seeing him, but Amber, being Amber, was too headstrong to listen. I went to uni and when I returned they’d split up. She’s yet to fill in the gaps, but I know he hurt her.
Rick releases Amber’s ass and focuses on me. “Tomorrow morning could you paint a thin layer of each tester colour on the wall? When the paint has dried you can pick the colour you like the best.”
“Sure.” I pull my phone from my pocket to check the time. It’s seven o’clock. “Why don’t you finish off what you’re doing and join us downstairs for a drink?”
Rick drops the trowel. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Seth and I leave Cornwall at seven am. Seth thinks there’ll be traffic on the way to Bristol. He thinks wrong and instead of being stuck in queues we sail through. For the first time in my life, I wish for roadworks, diversions and standstill traffic.
Without Ellie’s booster seat between us, I sit next to Seth. Every time he changes gear his fingers brush over my knee or thigh. The journey is hot and I’m sure the contact between us is intentional.
Turning off his satnav, he squeezes my thigh.
There he goes again, touching me.
“Would you like to go for breakfast?” Seth asks.
I glance at the time on my phone. Eight fifty-five am. We have over an hour until we need to be in the auction room and in our seats. The sale starts at ten-thirty. I kind of know what to expect as Cole and I went to an auction six months ago and purchased what’s now my house. I loved the buzz, the surge of adrenaline when bidding, but I’m more excited knowing Seth will be at my side the whole time.
He clears his throat. “Well?”
“I’m sorry. Breakfast, yes, that would be lovely.”
We pull in at the café opposite where the auction is being held. He parks in a small car park to the right of the building and we make our way inside.
Pulling out his wallet, Seth points to the specials board above the counter. “What would you like?”
I’m not fussy where food is concerned, though with my nerves bubbling in my stomach, I don’t know if I could eat a thing. “Whatever you’re having.”
God, he looks gorgeous. His hair and beard look more wild today, but I like that. He’s wearing black trousers and a crisp white shirt. Sexy and professional.
He winks, nudging my ass in the direction of a booth. “Go, sit down, I’ll get this.”
My feet take me to the booth in the corner of the room. I sit and watch him place our order. I can’t believe the change in him. He looks directly into my eyes when we speak, he’s attentive, flirty, unabashedly touchy-feely. He’s different. Are we finally crossing that invisible boundary between us? Who knows, but this is certainly a step, quite possibly a leap, in the right direction. The problem is, I don’t know how he’s feeling. Sure, he talks to me, but he doesn’t tell me where his mind is. Without the foresight of a mind-reader, I’m scared to let my guard down. I’m scared to allow myself to hope, to imagine that one day we can be more.
He walks back to the table carrying a silver tray with two steaming mugs of tea on. “Our breakfast will be out shortly.”
Our knees touch under the table, and neither one of us attempts to pull away. Smiling at me, he brushes a dark strand of hair off his brow. He studies my face. “It’s nice to finally get some time alone.”
I swallow. “Is it?”
He smiles big. I feel like my insides are on fire. How can I not want his kisses, his arms wrapped around me? How can I not want him?
He sips from his mug, clearing his throat. “So.”
I tip milk into my mug, stirring it around with a plastic spoon. “So.”
“Are you looking forward to the auction? I’m counting on you to help me get a deal.”
I stop stirring. “Me?”
“Yeah, you, this is my first auction.”
We spend the next half an hour chatting about the kinds of houses they’re looking to purchase. Seth tells me one of the properties suffered fire damage, and it’ll cost them a lot to renovate. He will only purchase that one if the price is right. Our conversation takes a detour, and he tells me about the surprise holiday he booked for him and Ellie to Disney World.
Seth smiles big. “I can’t wait until we’re on that plane.”
My heart beats a little faster at the mention of a trip abroad. I’ve only been overseas once. The flight was awful—we suffered terrible turbulence and even hit an air pocket. The plane dropped thousands of feet before the pilot was able to gain control. As a result I’m petrified of flying, petrified of heights. The very thought makes me feel as though I’ll throw up.
A waitress brings our full English breakfast. My hunger from moments ago vanishes. Seth looks up and frowns when I push the plate away. “Something wrong?”
“No, I’m just not hungry.”
He leans forward and nudges the plate toward me. “Please, eat something. It’s going to be a long day, you need your strength.”
I take the cutlery in my hands and smile. I swallow away the nausea creeping up my throat and stab my fork into a mushroom.
Time ticks away, and in no time we find ourselves running from the café and across the road to where the auction is taking place.
The chairs have been arranged in rows with a narrow walkway down the centre. After signing in, Seth and I sit in the middle row. I watch people from all walks of life enter and take their seats.
Seth flicks through a glossy brochure. “This shows all the properties we can bid on today.”
His arm rubs against me as he leans closer. He’s pointing out a semi-detached property on the coast. I feign interest as he reads out some of the room measurements. I couldn’t care less about the house; in my periphery I’m checking him out.
I jump as he prods my side. “Well, what do you think?”
“Erm—”
Our gaze meets but not for long. I can’t, I want the guy so badly. He continues to talk, flicking through, until he stops at another property, a cottage this time.
He shakes his head, running his hand over his beard. “This one is a listed building; getting planning permission will be a bitch.”
I glance down. The exterior to the property is lovely, with the signature white walls and thatched roof, but the interior leaves a lot to be desired.
“That won’t be cheap to renovate,” I say, trying to sound like I know what I’m talking about.
“Not cheap at all,” Seth agrees. “Cole said he visited that property a few weeks ago, he estimated it’d cost between seventy and one hundred thousand to fix up to a high spec.”
He pulls out a pen from his pocket, drawing a circle around the cottage, then places the pen behind his ear. He licks his finger and turns a few more pages. “There are five properties of interest. But this is the one we’re here for.”
I glance down, my eyes widening. I read ‘Hedging Lodge Road.’ The property is breathtaking. It is a Tudor-style detached house with green honeysuckle crawling its way up the front. The property is gated, with five acres of land, and has an indoor swimming pool. I could only dream of living in a house like this. Figures are flying around in my head and that’s when I glance at the small print. The property has a reserve price of four hundred thousand pounds.
“Seth, have you seen reserve price?”
He nods. “Sure have.”
I cough, clearing my throat. “Where’s the money coming from?”
“Cole,” he answers matter-of-factly.
My brother doesn’t have that kind of money just lying around. This is a guy I used to help cut coupons with. I swallow hard. “Cole can’t afford that.”
“Well, according to Rick, he can. Don’t forget he gave you a house last week.”
Seth’s right. Cole originally bought the house for me to rent from him, and on my birthday gave it to me. I was too overwhelmed to question h
im about it at the time. I sit, unblinking. I know their company was doing well, but it’s not the company that’s funding it, it’s Cole. How?
Seth’s stroking my thigh. “Will you stop worrying? You’ve got no idea how much money Cole has.”
No, but it’s something I intend to speak to my brother about. I hope he’s not doing anything illegal. No, he wouldn’t, I know Cole better than that, but jeez, where is he getting that kind of cash from?
Leaning back in his seat, Seth takes a deep breath. He moves the brochure aside and picks his bidding paddle from his lap. Our number is six hundred and twenty-four.
“We’ve got this,” I whisper.
His hand moves from his leg to my knee, which he squeezes. “Let’s hope so.”
We stand as a couple of middle-aged businessmen squeeze past us to take their seats. Voices around the room lower as the auctioneer walks behind his wooden stand. He smooths the front of his shirt and clears his throat.
“Right, ladies and gentlemen, if I can have your attention. The first lot for today is lot 137. A two-bedroom bungalow…” The auction proceeds in quick succession.
Ten properties are called, two don’t make their reserve price so remain unsold.
“Lot 148, three-bedroom cottage, in need of some restoration. Need a bid. Eighty thousand.”
I nudge Seth. “How about this one?” It’s so sweet, a little chocolate-box cottage with a thatched roof. “Seth, it’s perfect. It’s a five-minute walk to the beach.”
He shakes his head, leaning into me, his mouth nearly touching my ear. “Cute, but no way we’ll make enough profit.”
Giggling, I scrunch up my shoulder. “Seth, your beard’s tickling me.”
“Oh, right.” He edges away. His fingers brush my hair back into place.
My pulse quickens as one of the houses Seth circled is called out. Seth’s incredibly blasé when raising his paddle. He keeps flipping to the back of the brochure and to the Tudor-style house. When bids slow, he retreats, letting the competing bidder claim the property. The same happens with the next two properties.
“Lot 190. Five-bedroom Tudor-style house, built in the early 1600’s. Who’s going to start me off with three hundred and fifty thousand?”