Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
“Great.” I muster a bright smile. It actually hurts my face. “Matthew came with me.”
“Oh, he did?”
“Yes, and no one mentioned the man-sale I’d be dragged into.”
“Oh, be quiet and find some clean boxers,” I tease, making Matthew suck in a feigned hurt expression. Scarlett’s perfectly plucked eyebrows hitch, so I explain. “Matthew sold for five hundred quid and it seems his buyer got her money’s worth.”
Scarlett laughs, looking Matthew’s form up and down. “Well, well, Matthew.” She rests all her weight on one hip, giving him a coy look. “Care to share?”
“No.” He begins to head back to the IT department. “But Lo might want to share her purchase.”
My jaw goes lax as Matthew’s back disappears around the corner.
“Your purchase?” Scarlett questions immediately, not missing a beat.
Damn it. “Oh, it was nothing.” I dive on my computer and start hammering at random keys. “A friend of mine was up for auction, and he didn’t want his ex-lover to win him.” I peek up at Scarlett and see all interest vanish from her face, but I wait until she’s in her office before I sag in relief. It’s only nine o’clock. I have a whole day to fight through.
When my phone rings, I slide it from my desk and slump back in my chair. “I feel awful,” I say in greeting to Luke, immediately making him chuckle.
“I’m not surprised. I’m just going into a meeting. Want to walk the dogs tonight?”
“Seven?”
“See you then.”
Come five o’clock, I’m ready to collapse. I spent the day convincing Scarlett that my lack of being on the ball was due to tiredness and not a raging hangover. The long walk home in the whipping wind was actually a relief. The biting cold allowed me to focus on something other than my lingering pounding head.
When I walk into the warmth of my kitchen, my phone starts ringing, and I answer, seeing a casserole resting on the hob and a note from Magda telling me Billy was asleep both times she stopped by. “Hello?” I lift the lid of the pot and inhale the hearty meat and vegetable aroma that billows up toward my nose.
“Lo Harper?”
“Yes, who’s speaking?”
“My name is Derma Pierce. I’m an agent for DWS calling on behalf of MBNA. Your account has been passed over to us to contact you regarding the arrears.”
I drop the lid of the casserole dish, causing a clatter to echo around the kitchen. “Hi,” I squeak.
“I just need to ask a few security questions before we proceed.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I disconnect the call and throw the handset on the worktop. It immediately starts ringing again, but I ignore it, staying well clear of the phone and focusing on feeding Boris instead. I can’t deal with that right now; my head is pounding too much already. Tomorrow. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.
I pour some biscuits into Boris’s bowl and place it on the floor for him, blanking out the continuous ringing of the house phone until I’m forced to disconnect it. Billy will be wondering who’s calling.
I make two cups of tea and head upstairs to him. I fully expect to be hit with questions when I enter, but he’s asleep. Placing his mug on the side, I dip and kiss his forehead, noting how warm he his. He stirs, opening his eyes. “Hey.” He shifts, flinching as he does.
“Hey. Are you okay? In pain?” He looks uncomfortable.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. And you’re hot.” I feel his forehead again, highly expecting him to shoo me off, but he doesn’t, and I know it’s because he doesn’t have the energy. If it’s at all possible, he looks even more gray than usual. “I should call the doctor.”
“Lo, please. I’m fine. Just feeling a bit rough today.” He closes his eyes again, technically shutting me out, and I back off, assessing his face. He’s sweating.
Glancing at the clock on his bedside, I see it’s nearly seven o’clock. I’m meeting Luke soon, but I’m really not comfortable leaving Billy. He’s never good, but tonight he seems particularly bad. I reach for the thermometer on the bedside table and take it into the bathroom to wash. When I get back to his bedside, his eyes are still closed. And I know for sure I should be worried when he doesn’t protest me slipping the thermometer into his ear. He’s only had fevers on rare occasions, and the doctor has always said that any spike could cause problems. It beeps and I remove it. Thirty-eight point two. He’s burning up.
Heading downstairs, I text Luke telling him that Billy’s not good and I won’t make our walk, feeling a little bad as I know he’s probably already in the park waiting for me. But as is the way with Luke, he doesn’t make a big deal of it, replying with an order to call him if I need him. Then I call the doctor, settling on the couch. It’s out of hours, but, thankfully, I soon reach Dr. Smith and he takes my call. “He’s terribly hot,” I tell him, making my way back upstairs. “His temperature is thirty-eight point two. Should I call the out-of-hours line?”