“As much as I’m against it, I can see I’m not going to change your mind. But I really don’t think you should drive. How about I drop you at work instead, and you could pick up your car later in the week?” Greer challenges. I’ll take it for the win.
“It’s not an inconvenience? Taking me to work?” I know I’m not up to walking, even though it’s not far.
“I wouldn’t have offered if it was. It’s only up the road.”
“Okay. Deal. Do you want first shower?”
“Sure. You can make breakfast since you’re feeling so much better.”
It’s disturbing how natural running through a morning routine with Greer is. I imagine doing this every morning, and for the first time in my life, my blood doesn’t run cold at the thought. Christ. I’m screwed.
The best I can manage with my bandaged arm is cereal and tea, which we eat leaning against the kitchen bench. I’d give my injured arm for a proper coffee.
Greer smells mouth-wateringly of her soap and shampoo. At least she’s covered up by jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt now, because despite my aches and pains I'm having trouble keeping my response to her under control.
I squeeze myself into Greer’s little electric clown car. The trip to my office is short, but not so short that Greer doesn’t have time to bring up the unwelcome subject of my mother. Out of nowhere.
“Have you called your mum yet about the accident?”
I snort in distaste. “No. Why would I?”
“Because she’s yourmother. And she’d want to know.” Greer glances at me while we wait for the stragglers to cross the road at the lights.
“Experience would suggest not. But whatever.” I don’t tell her I haven’t even called my mother since I’ve been home.
“Please promise me you’ll call her today. Let her know? She might surprise you.”
If anyone else asked this of me, they’d get a short sharp fuck off. But this is Greer. And after all she’s done for me in the past twenty-four hours alone, it’s the least I can do. If only to prove to her, and myself for the thousandth time, that Mum really doesn’t care.
“Okay, fine. I’ll call her,” I concede, as she pulls to the side of the road in front of my office.
“Good. And promise me you’ll take it easy.” She rests her hand against my cheek. “Call me to come and get you if you start to feel sick or dizzy.”
With a mind of its own, my hand comes up to cover hers. “I promise. Thanks for everything, Flo.” Our eyes meet and the strange sensation I felt when I saw her at the airport washes over me again. Bringing her hand to my mouth, I kiss her palm before I think better of it and climb quickly from the car, waving as I head into the building.
The sense I have of wading into quicksand is not improved by the reception I get as I walk into the creative department.
“Hey, Josh. You look much better.” Fiona calls as I walk past her cubicle.
“So would I if I’d spent the night with Red,” Sean pipes up. “I’m surprised you’ve got the strength to stand up!”
I love how relaxed and familiar the team already are with me, even if sometimes they do take it a step or three too far.
“I’ll say it once more for the dummies—Greer and I are just friends.”
“Yeah. Sure. I could tell. There was absolutely no sexual tension between you at all.” Leering, Sean rolls his eyes.
Which stops me short. “What are you talking about?” Despite myself, I’m curious.
“She couldn’t take her eyes off you. And you looked like the wolf when he was about to eat Red Riding Hood.” Sean smirks.
“The wolf ate the granny, not Red Riding Hood. Get your fairy tales straight, you tool,” Fiona corrects with an exaggerated eye roll of her own. These two talk about the chemistry between Greer and me. I wonder if they’ve ever taken a look in the mirror. Their constant bickering is an office romance waiting to happen.
“Whatever. Greer is no granny. And he looked like he wanted to take a bite of her. That’s all I know.”
Taking advantage of their already familiar squabbling, I leave them to it, disappear into my office and close the door. Dropping into my chair, I lay my forehead on the desk, careful of my arm and the lump, which has now turned purple, blue and green and seems to be spreading all the way past my eyebrow and down my temple to my cheekbone. I don’t have the mindspace for this right now. Despite what I told Greer, my head is still pounding, and my arm is throbbing. I fish the painkillers the doctor gave me out of my pocket and throw a couple back.
I’m already feeling like shit. I might as well get the call to my mother over with. Then I can get on with my day.
