Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
I hung on in the library for a decent few hours after college finished, because I really couldn’t be doing with another round of Jayden singing Scottie’s praises. Plus, Scottie might well be there himself. I left it long enough that I managed to get to our block without any distractions, and let myself in with a sigh. Mum was back from shopping. I saw it from the collection of bags lined up on the sofa. Zaza’s. Great. The price tags on those things would be expensive.
“Ta da!” she announced and appeared in the living room to give me a twirl. She was in a lovely purple dress, which really suited her. It showed off her curves like a dream.
I wished I shared some of them.
I gave her a smile. “You look great, Mum.”
She twirled again. “You think?”
“I know.”
“Thanks.” She looked so pleased. “I’m going out with Trisha tonight. Martha’s having Ramsay. I heard that Julian sometimes pops into the Brewery Tavern on his way back from work. Who knows, maybe we’ll run into him and I can ask him over for that dinner.”
Wow. She’d been doing her research. The whole estate probably knew she had her eye on him by now.
“Maybe,” I said, then checked out the time on my phone. “You’d have to leave soon if you want to catch him at the end of the office day. He’s usually home by six thirty.”
“Six thirty?! How do you know that?”
I got a tickle in my stomach, as though I’d done something wrong.
“We usually cross paths in the hallway. He arrives home when I’m heading out for work. Not close enough to speak to. I just… see him.”
Her eyebrows shot up in panic. “Fuck. It’s almost six thirty already.”
She grabbed her phone, no doubt typing out a frantic message to Trisha. Jeez, there was so much urgency after one single encounter with him. I wished she’d calm down.
As it turned out, she didn’t need to ping Trisha, since a knock came at the door. She was on time for once, usually at least twenty minutes late everywhere she went.
Mum tossed her phone on the sofa and ran to let her in.
“We’d better go soon…” she began and then went silent, her words stopping dead.
Fuck. I thought it was Scottie. I shot into the hallway to get him the hell away from her, but stopped in my tracks as I saw the guy actually standing there.
“I just wanted to drop by and check you were ok,” Julian said with his posh accent, and it gave me another lurch in my stomach.
Mum ran a hand through her hair. “Wow, yeah, thank you. Come on in!”
“I should be getting back–” he tried, but she beckoned him in like he was royalty stepping into the hall.
She reeked of happy desperation, and it made me sad.
I cleared the sofa of shopping bags in case he wanted to take a seat, but he didn’t. He stood around awkwardly, checking out the scene of the crime. The remains of the coffee table were gone. I’d thrown it into the trash heap downstairs late last night.
“Cup of tea?” Mum asked him, dashing through to the kitchen.
“No, I’m ok, thank you. Like I said, I have things I need to get back to. Work paperwork waiting upstairs.”
He didn’t sound all that convincing, despite the token smile he shot my mum. It was my eyes his fixed on while she busied herself with the kettle.
“And how about you, Rosie. Are you doing ok?”
My cheeks bloomed looking at him. I pushed my glasses up my nose as always, self-conscious. “I’ll survive. We really appreciated your help last night. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, and I looked at him fresh. He was wearing the same suit as yesterday. His tie was hanging exactly the same way. He saw me looking and straightened it, then seemed to bluster and walk away.
“I’ll let myself out,” he said. “Glad you are both recovering.”
Mum caught up with him before he reached the door.
“Hey, Julian, I was thinking. Maybe you could come over for a, um… thank you dinner. You deserve one.”
I caught his eyes over her shoulder. They were still on me.
“I’m pretty much stocked up on dinners for the week,” he said. “Thank you for the offer, though.”
“Maybe next week?” she pushed, and I cringed inside for her. She was trying so hard.
He didn’t want to give her the cold shoulder, that much was obvious, so he smiled politely and gave her a nod. “Maybe, yes. I’ll have to check my calendar. Work’s very busy this month.”
“Great,” she said, naïve enough to believe him.
“Nice to see you both,” he said, before he walked away, his eyes still on me.
Mum practically squealed as she closed the door behind him. It was as though he’d just accepted a wedding proposal, not given her a half-assed maybe on a dinner at some point in the future.