With a nervous frown, Juan put the coffee back in the cupboard and grabbed two glasses instead. “You’re not on meds, are you?” He held the bottle of wine in the air.
“Nope, so just pour,” Tasha snapped, then realising she was getting annoyed with the wrong person she softened. “Sorry. I’m off meds and able to consume wine.”
“Okay.” Juan smiled as he half-filled the wine glasses. “So, the party?”
“I have no objection to a party as such, but it was kind of sprung on me. Philip appears with a plan he and Abby have cooked up and I want to say no because it’s too soon—I like a party but I’m not at my partying best and to be honest the idea of a crowded room makes me nervous. I don’t know why, but it does. So, I tell Philip it will be a no, that Jim won’t have any of it and what does he do? He says yes.”
“Maybe Jim just wants to celebrate you being well and your engagement. He does love you and he thought he was going to lose you, several times, we all did.”
With a nod, Tasha reached across the table to take Juan’s hand in hers giving it a reassuring squeeze that said she knew and understood how worried Jim had been, how worried everyone had been, but honestly, she was still worried. Every time she was alone in the house, no matter how fleeting, she was worried. Every time she was escorted by security, she was worried, worried that they either knew of a threat or on more than one occasion she had worried that they were the threat because if Mickie could pay her way to hiring Tasha’s own father then any unscrupulous muscle for hire would be easy to bank roll. Her dreams were becoming a little less intense and frequent, but her sleep was still disturbed by thoughts and worries, and she woke up in terror at least once a week, dripping in sweat, crying incoherently being cradled by Jim. So, like she’d just told Juan, she wasn’t really party fit yet. What she hadn’t admitted to Juan or even herself until that very second was that she feared she might never recover sufficiently to be party fit again. Maybe the old Tasha had gone for good.
“Tash,” Juan interrupted her thoughts and musing.
“What? Sorry.”
“Do you need me to call for Jim?” Juan looked worried, more than that though, he looked scared and anxious.
Tasha smiled across at him and cast her mind back to his earlier words about Jim’s possible motives in agreeing to a party right now.
“I understand him wanting to celebrate, I really do, but this is so unlike Jim. I would put money on the fact that when I leave here there will be a member of the security team overseeing my trip across the drive where my boyfriend will be waiting for me on the doorstep after you call or text him to say I’m leaving here, so why is he going to throw a party?”
“I don’t know, I really don’t,” Juan replied, and Tasha believed him.
Maybe she was overthinking it and it was as simple as him wanting to celebrate their engagement, her recovery and their impending wedding, not that anyone else aside from Bobby and Abby were aware of that.
“Let me sort some dinner.” He smiled, getting to his feet while she refilled their glasses to the brim.
****
It was at breakfast the following morning before Jim brought up the subject of Tasha's workload.
“Can you email Amanda your revised work dates today, baby?” he said to a slightly subdued Tasha courtesy of a little too much to drink with Juan the previous night and her reluctance to go ahead with this party that was all planned.
“No need,” she replied shortly.
“Tasha, there is every need. I need to know exactly what you have committed to, when and where,” replied Jim with a hard stare.
“Jim, I am going to be nowhere other than here until the New Year when Jon starts shooting his movie, assuming that isn't recast.” Tasha sounded tearful.
“What? What do you mean?” Jim put his cup down, giving Tasha his undivided attention.
“Angie called to say that due to my inability to fulfil my contractual obligations, my part for the legal thing was reluctantly being recast which is understandable I suppose. Time is money and I wouldn't be able to fly to London for another couple of weeks. So, no work dates to email, revised or otherwise.”
“That is bull,” snapped Jim. “Time is money, but most of the money in question is mine, so if I'm okay with the cost they should be too. Baby, you are so not fired, either that or I will pull the plug on the whole damn thing.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket before looking across at Tasha to confirm, “Did this come from Niall Taylor?”
Tasha nodded but as Jim began to select somebody's number from his phone she reached across the table and took it from him.
“Honey, I know your feelings on phones at the table, but this can't wait.”
“No. Leave it, Jim, please. I never wanted to be bankrolled by you. I never wanted you to arrange work for me and although I got this part myself and your involvement was unknown at that point, I can't have you running to my rescue, so let them recast and make it without me.”
“Baby, this is not me rescuing you. This is me throwing my weight around and fighting for unfair treatment of...” He struggled for the right word.
“Of your girlfriend, fiancée, wife?” Tasha still held onto Jim's phone.
“I like the sound of that, my wife.” He grinned.
“Me too, so you make the most of the fact that you are going to get your wish of having me at home, waiting and wanton, wearing your ring and bearing your name, and I have to admit that the idea of that appeals to me. Let's have a honeymoon at home that takes us all the way to Christmas,” said Tasha, getting to her feet and sitting across Jim's lap as she gave him his phone back.
