“All I’m saying is that Zayn doesn’t buy himself a Maserati and a wardrobe full of Brioni suits by taking on cases that pay him with gratitude. There’s only one reason he would take on this case and that’s because the damsel in distress he lives to serve asked him to. And her name starts with a y and ends in o u.”
“Rubbish,” I counter, ignoring the thrill her words give me. I won’t let Anna blow this thing with Zayn out of proportion. No, it can barely even be called a thing. It’s less than a thing. It’s an ing. “I’m not a damsel in distress, and heisn’t doing anything forme. He genuinely wanted to help when I filled him in on the situation.”
“Sure. And I sleep with men because I love to spoon afterwards.”
“You don’t stick around long enough to spoon.”
She lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Exactly, Gianna. Exactly.”
I hangup the phone with a solemn promise to call Anna and fill her in later before knocking loudly on the door, my stomach in absolute tatters over who I know is inside. Why do my encounters with Zayn always have to be sprung on me? Why can’t they be pre-organised to give me at least two to five business days to mentally prepare myself for the physical and emotional onslaught that leaves me in ruins every single time?
Emma flings open the door with wide, excited eyes and mischief in her smile, beckoning me inside with a frantic wave of her hand.
“Come in, quick!” she says, barely waiting for me to pass the threshold before ramming the door shut behind me. “David-Zayn is here and oh God, Gia.” She groans as her eyes roll to the back of her head. “He is so fit!”
She takes my hand and pulls me down the hallway while I mutter to her that his name is ‘just Zayn’ until we’re joining two other women hunched outside the cracked-open door of the kitchen. I expected nothing more from Emma and Lily, the young woman who arrived last week and has gotten on with Emma like a house on fire, but I raise my brow at Cassie.
“What?” she whispers, smiling sheepishly. “He’s bloody gorgeous. Just admiring the view.”
“You’re acounsellor,” I whisper harshly, only half-joking. “You’re supposed to be setting an example. And, isn’t this a confidential conversation?”
“They’re just wrapping up. Besides, Beth’s the one that told us he was coming and gave us the all-clear to have a squiz.”
Before I can reply, Sam’s amused voice floats out the cracked door. “You can come in now, ladies. Show’s over.”
Cassie ducks away quickly with a giggle before Sam swings the door wide open to reveal us three standing there, looking like we got caught with our hands in the cookie jar.
“My hands are crumb free!” I clarify, stepping into the kitchen with said hands raised and eyes averted from the dark mass that seems to be silently calling to me from the head of the table. “I just got here.”
“Crumb -?” Sam shakes his head, perplexed. “Never mind. What are you doing here, Gia?”
I keep strictly focused on Sam’s melty chocolate eyes and absolutely don’t try to discern what Zayn’s doing in my peripheral vision.
“I have some things to run by you for the fundraiser.” Even I can hear the excitement creeping into my voice. In the last two weeks, Brett has really helped me piece together what is going to be an amazing benefit. “We need to set a date so I can start locking in some vendors.”
“Oh, that’s great! I’ll make teas and we can take it into my office.”
“I’ll make them.” I try to move in a casual sort of way to the beige bench top even though I feel anything but. I make a shambles of it as I pull down two cups and slam them on the counter louder than I anticipate.
“How are you, Beth?” I ask over my shoulder as I flick on the kettle. Zayn’s dark presence hovers at my back as if loose tendrils have broken free and are nudging my ankles, waiting for me to acknowledge them. I don’t.
“Good, thanks to Zayn here. And of course you, too, for arranging it. Zayn is amazing! Things are really starting to look up.”
I hear more than see the smile in her voice, and I feel relieved for Beth and the twins. They deserve for things to be going their way.
“That’s great!” I pop a tea bag in to each cup and studiously avoidamazingZayn.
“It is! Are you staying for board games tonight? I think we decided on Monopoly.”
Every Friday night at Hope House is board game night and when I don’t have plans with Anna, I usually spend the evening here with the girls, Sam, and most nights Cassie will hang around too. Sam always allows for take-out, which puts everyone in a happy mood because no one has to cook or clean, and the night is topped off with chocolaty snacks, popcorn and a competitive streak in Sam that usually leaves everyone in stitches on nights he loses. I’m sad to miss it tonight.
“I can’t tonight. I have to work.”
I hear a laptop slam shut behind me.
Sam starts to ask, “Work? When did you get -”
But he’s cut off by Zayn’s abrupt and demanding, “Where?”
