Shit. That’s expensive. “Perfect, it will be nice to have another female around the studio for a change, that’s for sure.” I force a smile.
“I bet. How old are the boys again?”
“Too young for you!” I laugh, and she shakes her head, tutting. “Erin, I’m sorry for bringing up your mum before, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Don’t be silly, it’s fine.”
“I know, but I don’t believe you. I think you were lying earlier.”
“What?” She freezes, her hands pausing on the glass she is washing.
“You don’t want to live in Australia permanently, do you? If you could come home you would, right?”
She drops the glass onto the drainer and turns to me, a sad smile on her face. “In a heartbeat.” She looks to the ground, rolling her lips as if she wants to say more. “Sorry, Nina, I better go. I need to get some sleep before tomorrow, I have so much to get sorted over the next couple weeks.”
“It must be so hard, but it will get better, I’m sure. You managed to take this trip. You will make it back here, one day.” I squeeze her arm as she reaches for her fur coat.
“Yeah, maybe.” Her lips thin into a tight-lipped grimace. She walks to the door but pauses when she gets to it.
Her throat works on a swallow as her eyes find mine. “Sorry, Nina. I hope you don’t think I’m being rude.” And then she leaves.
Her obvious discomfort leaves me feeling awful. I wish I kept my mouth shut, but I could tell she wasn’t being honest, and I was right–she doesn’t want to live in Australia. I think it’s amazing that she has given up so much to help her mum.
I finish washing up the dishes, then send Mase a message telling him I’m on my way home.
The Bentley is a welcome distraction from the worry for Erin, and instead of overthinking all the things I wish I didn’t say to her, I am forced to concentrate on the beasty machine that is Mason’s car.
Mason’sveryexpensive car.
The drive home is plain sailing, and I even put the radio on for the last five minutes of my drive as my confidence starts to grow. It really is an easy car to drive.
I’m about five minutes from Mason’s when my phone starts to ring, and I answer without looking—too afraid of taking my eyes from the road—then switch it to speaker.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Scar!”
“Hey! I’m just driving.” I tell her on impulse. “I’m actually in the Bentley.”
“Mason let you drive the Bentley?” She’s shocked.
I chuckle, wiggling my bum into the seat. “I know. I wouldn’t trust me either.”
Her laugh echoes through the car, making me smile. “So, I wanted to know if you would do lunch with me tomorrow? Dad has a two-hour appointment which he refuses to let me go to; he’s a stubborn fool.”
“Of course, I’d love to! How is he?”
I mentally try to remember what classes I have tomorrow.
“He’s good. Seems upbeat about it all. I just hope they find a transplant.”
“A transplant?” I frown.
“Yeah, Mason didn’t tell you?”
“No.” I bite my bottom lip in worry.
“Typical.” She huffs, and I hear her shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Dad needs a liver transplant, he is high on the list, though, and they think it will be within the next six months.”
