“Cruel,” I say, trying not to smile.
He laughs quietly. “You’d survive. I’d do all the talking anyway. Maybe even a little dirty talking.”
That earns him a proper laugh, soft and breathy. “You are ridiculous.”
Before he can reply, there’s a loud thud from the door. We both jump.
Aaron frowns. “What onearth—”
The door swings open with a second bang, and Bernard trots in, very pleased with himself, his little pink pig clamped proudly in his mouth.
He pauses when he sees us, drops the pig, and gives a short, decisive bark that sounds suspiciously like a complaint.
Aaron stares at him. “I think that means breakfast.”
Bernard tilts his head, as if confirming the order, then ambles closer, tail wagging with complete disregard for timing or privacy.
I giggle, pressing my face into the pillow. “He hassuchan instinct for ruining a moment.”
Aaron sighs, but he’s smiling too. “Come on then, mate. Let’s get you fed before you knock the whole house down.”
Bernard picks up his pig again, looking smug as he trots out, clearly satisfied that his humans have been retrieved from whatever nonsense they were up to.
Chapter 18
From:Aaron
To:Eve
Date:24 March
Subject:The Great Pig Scandal of St Claire
Morning, love.
You left and all hell broke loose.
Layla came back yesterday and within five minutes spotted Bernard with her pink pig. Naturally, the second she saw it in his bed, it became her favourite toy again, even if she hadn’t played with it for a year.
Negotiations were tense. Bernard refused to surrender his soulmate. Layla refused to be outwitted by a beagle. There was barking, a fair bit of sulking, and one attempted pig heist that ended with both of them in time-out.
In the end, Abby and Jon had to step in. Layla was bribed with a muffin. Bernard got a dog biscuit and a victory lap around the kitchen. Official ruling: the pig stays with him. It’s now been declared his emotional support plush, and I’ve been told to stop referring to it as ‘the affair of the century.’
Back in London now, and it’s much too quiet. No clattering in the kitchen, no half-whispered muttering from the next room when you think no one can hear you. I didn’t realise how quickly a few days could start to feel like home until I came back here without you.
So, how about I come up to Norfolk next weekend? I can bring the sandwiches, and you can tell me I’ve created another masterpiece. Seems like a fair deal.
I miss you, Eve. More than I probably should already.
Aaron
From:Eve
To:Aaron
Date:25 March
Subject:Re: The Great Pig Scandal of St Claire
