Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
My legs creak as they straighten, like they’ve been in the same position the entire day. I roll my shoulders back and then head out to find Ellie. I’m sure her finger’s fine, but I’d like to check it out, and I’m looking forward to seeing her. I was furious when I saw her looking through Mrs. Fletcher’s comments, but I tried to figure out why it mattered and couldn’t find a reason. No, she shouldn’t have snooped, but I shouldn’t have left it out. She must be a little weirded out by the fact I’m not chasing new clients. I can understand why she’d go looking for clues to my mysterious research project.
The entire cottage smells delicious. As I come into the sitting room, I notice the fire’s been topped up with wood and it’s lovely and warm. Ellie’s so good at making people feel good. I bet she was great at managing her boyfriend’s career. I want to hear more about that. Being snowed in might not be so bad after all.
I poke my head into the kitchen. “Hey.”
She spins and there’s a look of shock on her face, like she wasn’t expecting to see me. “You’re here.”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
“I just want to say how sorry I am, and I know you probably think—”
“Ellie, stop apologizing. We’ve had this conversation already.” I take a step toward her and realize she’s shaking. “Are you okay?”
She takes a step back and sucks in a breath. “You’ve been in there all day and now it’s gone seven—I know you must be angry—”
“I’m not angry. I just lost track of time. That’s all.” I circle my arms around her, wanting to soothe her somehow. “Did you think I was deliberately hiding in there? To punish you or something?” Why has she blown this out of proportion? It’s like she’s invented an alternate reality in her head.
She shrugs, staring at my shoulder. “I guess. I understand I was wrong.”
“It’s forgotten,” I say, wanting her to forget too. I don’t understand why she’s beating herself up like this. “You’re really hard on yourself. There was fault on both sides, remember?”
She pulls her eyebrows together and finally meets my gaze. “You’re not angry anymore?”
“I was never angry at you. At myself for a little bit, but even that didn’t last. I was mildly irritated. You didn’t set the place on fire—you looked at something you shouldn’t have.”
She exhales, and I feel the tightness in her seep away. We’re silent for a couple of beats before she says, “I made dinner. I wasn’t sure if you’d come out, but it’s moussaka.”
That’s what I could smell.
“How could you think I would miss out on any meal cooked by you? I’m not sure how I worked through until now. The hours just flew by.”
“Really? You just lost track of time?” She still doesn’t believe that I don’t want to hang, draw, and quarter her. What in the hell happened to her that she expects that of me?
I press a kiss to her forehead. “Really. Can I help with anything?” I release her and she gives me a small smile and shakes her head.
“No, maybe just open some wine, if you don’t mind.” Why would she think I’d mind?
We busy ourselves getting dishes down from cupboards, pulling cutlery from drawers and uncorking the wine.
While Ellie dishes up the moussaka, I take the now-empty cup she put the heather in yesterday. I head out to see if I can find more.
The snow is already two or three inches thick and it’s falling fast in thick clumps, like the flakes can’t get down fast enough. The ground is completely covered, but I know there was heather planted just in front of the cottage. I tunnel a hole through the snow, using my hand. Pretty soon, I’ve uncovered a small bush of heather. I take three or four stalks and head inside. It’s at least minus five out there, and I imagine it’s the last time I’ll be outside for a couple of days.
I kick the snow off my boots before heading inside and dumping my coat and shoes. I don’t want that moussaka getting cold.
“Heather for the table,” I announce, holding up my find.
Ellie snaps her head up and freezes, shaking her head. “Who are you?”
I’m confused by her response, but I don’t say anything. I thin out the heather I’ve brought in, dump it in the cup and place it on the table before washing my hands.
“Are we ready?” I ask.
She flashes me the biggest smile and it makes me ache inside. I get the feeling she doesn’t use it as much as she should. “So ready,” she replies.
We take our seats and she raises her glass. “To surviving being snowed in.”
“Oh I think we’ll do more than survive,” I reply. If I’d been here on my own, it would have been fine. I would have made a lot of cheese and ham sandwiches and soup, I’d have had to relight the fire at least once a day, and I wouldn’t have such good company over dinner. Everything about Ellie being here means that it will be better than if I’d been here on my own.