Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
My waitress uniform is practically sticking to me by the time my shift ends at seven-thirty. It’s kind of unfair of Alistair to have his staff wearing such tight black skirts during the summer heat. Then again, the restaurant is probably too high-end for T-shirts and shorts.
I’m so glad to be finished with work that I practically run out of the place, totally ready for a nice dinner and an early night. It’s only when I get to the Tube station that I realise I walked out of Baccino’s without my handbag. Reaching inside my skirt pocket, I’m relieved to find that I have my oyster card and my mobile phone on me at least. I’m too tired to go back to the restaurant for my bag, so I decide I’ll just leave it there until Monday.
With this all sorted out in my head, I continue on my way to the platform. However, as I’m waiting for the Tube to come, another unfortunate realisation hits me. The restaurant had been so busy that I completely forgot to have my usual four o’clock break when I take my insulin and grab a bite to eat. I mostly only realise this because of the feeling of sickness that hits me.
Normally I’d find a bathroom somewhere to take my medicine, but since the travel kit I brought with me today is sitting in the handbag I forgot back at the restaurant, that option is out. The feeling of illness comes upon me so quickly that I don’t have the energy to go back for it, but since I have my main supply at home, I decide to keep going and get the Tube. I can hold out for an hour – I hope.
The rumbling of the train approaching only manages to increase my anxiety. A second later someone steps up close beside me. Turning my head, I see it’s Robert, making his way home from work the same as me.
“Lana,” he says in a low voice, nodding his head.
The relief of seeing him hits me fast, and I momentarily forget all about us not talking. “Oh, Robert, thank God,” I breathe, throwing my arms around him.
His face moves in my hair, and I feel him inhale sharply. “Uh, not that I’m complaining or anything, but are you okay?” he asks gently, taken by surprise by my hug.
I pull away. “Yes, no, I mean, I’m just glad to see you.”
An expression of longing shows on his face for only a moment before he wipes it clear. He glances at me now and says, “You don’t look so good.”
He presses his hand to my lower back as we step onto the carriage.
There aren’t any seats left, barely even enough room to stand, so I lean my shoulder against Robert’s chest as he holds onto one of the safety bars beside him.
“I’ll be okay once I get home. It was really busy at Baccino’s today, and I forgot to take my insulin. Then I was so tired that I forgot to grab my bag before I left. So now I just really need to get home so that I can take it and get something to eat. Basically, I feel like shit.” My words all tumble out too fast.
His face gets softer as he pulls me close so that I’m leaning on him properly and he’s taking all the weight of my body. “Jesus, are you sure you’ll be okay? You’re sweating quite a bit.”
He runs his thumb over my temple.
I give him a half-hearted smile. “That might just be the heat.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, eyes travelling over my features. “Does this kind of thing happen a lot?”
“Never. I never forget my insulin. Making sure my blood sugar is good is a big priority for me. It’s just been a really tiring week.” I turn my face so it’s resting in the crook of his neck. I feel too sick to be nervous about getting close to him now, needing the comfort of his strong body more than I need to be angry about the pictures he took. He goes tense and then relaxes as he brings his arms around me.
“Is that my fault?” he asks against my hair.
“Partly,” I tell him honestly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have deleted your pictures. That was awful of me. I was just so flustered by them – shocked.” I was also, in the very, very back of my mind, flattered beyond belief. But I’ll never admit that out loud.
“Hush now,” he says, petting my hair softly. “We can talk about it later. Let’s just focus on getting you home.”
I close my eyes and let him hold me, taking advantage of his closeness to breathe in his scent. I’m almost certain he’s doing the same thing. He’s got one arm over my shoulders, the other along the curve of my spine, just nearly brushing my bottom, but not quite. I move my nose against his neck and he pulls me tighter, his whole arm like a vice around my waist now. I sink my arms around him, too, and a low rumble emanates from his throat.
I think I feel him touch his lips to my hair, but I can’t be sure. The journey seems like it goes on forever, not only because I feel sick, but also because I’m so completely aware of each time Robert moves his body, bringing some new sensation to our embrace. His hip touching my hip, his cheek on my cheek. I think we both pretend to adjust ourselves just so we can tentatively touch in new places.
People get on and off at each stop, but I feel so thoroughly surrounded by him that I hardly notice. We make the changeover at Kings Cross, Robert keeping his arm around me the whole time. We’re only a few stops from Finchley when suddenly the train comes to a halt in the middle of a black tunnel. My eyes widen in fear as I glance at Robert. There’s obviously been some kind of a delay. I just hope it’s not a long one. He takes my chin, making me look into his eyes as he rubs my lower back to soothe me as the driver’s voice comes across the speakers.