For me.
Chapter 8
Now
Nat and Tim are both 30
Text thread between Eleanor Karas-Stewart and Sadie Mills:
Eleanor:Aunt Sadie… *bats eyelashes*
Sadie:Yes, Ellsbells?
Eleanor:Could you do me a favour and get me a bottle of champagne pls xoxo
Sadie:Get YOU a bottle?
Eleanor:LOLOLOL not me silly, it’s for mum&dad
Eleanor:Setting an atmosphere for a romantic night in so they can bring on the luuuuurrrrrrrrrve
Sadie:Oh lol I gotchu
Sadie:Yeah, sure. Strawberries too?
Eleanor:YES OMG [heart eyes emoji]
Sadie:Drop by tomorrow, we’ll have it all ready [wink emoji]
Tim
Carrying Nat upstairs when she gets home is without a doubt the highlight of my year so far.
Especially when I feel her hands clinging around my neck. “I’m heavier than the last time you carried me,” she protests, and she’s not wrong. Nat herself has always been feather light, with a slender dancer’s frame, but both her legs are still in casts. One of them is strapped into a brace, which is even heavier.
“Dad’s strong, though,” Eleanor pipes up from behind us, my determined hype man. She’s getting her mum’s wheelchair in from the car, and our girl is practically vibrating with excitement at all three of us living in the same house for the first time.
“Yeah, but even so…” Nat gives me an uncertain look.
“You’re fine,” I murmur to her. “Hold on tight.”Because I can’t get enough of the way you feel, back where you belong. She wraps an arm further around my neck, and I don’t resist whispering, “Good girl.” Her eyes fly to mine, and I grin when I see her face going pink. I look away, but not before I notice her pupils widen.
When we get to my bedroom, she gasps a little as she takes everything in, from the snowdrops bed set to the TV. “Oh my gosh!”
“Welcome to your new home,” I say lightly. If I have my way, it will be.
“You didn’t have to do all this.” But the way she’s looking at me, like I’m her own personal hero, makes all the DIY worthwhile. Even the moment I accidentally caught my thumb with a hammer, which hurt like a sonofabitch.
Maybe I’ll be able to get her to kiss it better later.
“Isn’t it awesome?” El gives me a wink, and I snort. She’s not subtle, but it’s cute as hell. “And we’ve got snacks, so why don’t we all settle down with a movie?”
“El,” I warn her gently, “Mum might want to have a nap instead.”
“No, a film sounds nice,” Nat says as I lower her onto the bed.
“Great, because I’ve got your favourite,” El sings. “Dirty Dancingis loaded up and ready to go.” And indeed, while I was picking Nat up from the hospital, she’s been busy getting things set up here: the scented candles are lit, there are chocolate chip cookies on a plate and popcorn in a bowl, and the opening credits ofDirty Dancingare on pause.
“That’s not your mum’s favourite movie,” I mutter.
