And we both knew my dad.
Words crystallise, uninvited.
“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” I mumble to his back. “My dad, he’s—” I cut myself off, sucking in a breath as tears spring to my eyes.Damn it. Don’t cry.
How bloody disappointing, to realise I’ve dragged all my emotional baggage to England.
New country.
Same problems.
Same Lily.
To make matters worse, Brandon’s noticed. He turns back, concern etched deep across his brow, his dark eyes glassy in the glow. There’ssomething haunted in his expression. “Lily-Anne…”
“You don’t owe him anything. Okay?”
My voice cracks on the last word.
He looks stricken. “I’ve upset you.”
“No! You haven’t. I’m just…tired.”
He nods, but his jaw flexes. “I should let you rest. The heating’s there if you want to turn it up. And…we can sort out dinner later if you’d like to sleep. Unless you want to push through to beat the jet lag, of course.”
I shake my head, already thinking of bed. I’m exhausted, and too emotional for my own good. “Sleep sounds good. And dinner. I’ll come downstairs at…seven?”
“Seven works. I was thinking of a pub—there’s a good one nearby, owned by a friend of mine.”
“Not the same friend who made the bookshelves?”
“The one and the same. He took over an Irish pub a few years ago. The food is excellent.”
My stomach gives a faint rumble, one I’m glad Brandon doesn’t hear. “Sounds perfect. I’m glad I don’t have to cook tonight. Cheese toasties require a lot of concentration, you know.”
“Of course.”
He thinks I’m joking, but Ellenor was always the foodie. Next to her overachieving in the kitchen, I didn’t see the point in learning to cook.
Still, Brandon’s smiling, and the tension eases a fraction more.
“I’ll leave you to settle in,” he says, closing the door behind him. Faintly, I hear his footsteps on the spiral stairs.
I unpack my things, take a hot shower, and pull on leggings and an oversized pink T-shirt. In the mini fridge, I find fruit and yoghurt.
How thoughtful.
After eating, I make myself a strong instant coffee, thinking maybe I’ll skip the nap after all. I sit on the cream couch, trying not to doze off as I wait for the caffeine to kick in. By the time I’ve drained the mug, however, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.
Just a small nap, I tell myself as I drift towards the bedroom. I collapse onto the soft mattress and drag the covers over me, trying to picture what sharing a meal with Brandon will be like.
He’s not what I expected. There’s no swagger, no showiness, just a quiet confidence that has a charm of its own. He intrigues me, and I’manticipating dinner a little too much.
Stop it,I scold myself, shifting restlessly. I’m here because he feels he owes my dad, not because he actually wants my company.
Just like I only came for his help.
It makes me feel bad, though. Cheap.
