“Rosa!” Finley yells from her door along the corridor.
“I’m right here,” I say, crossing my eyes and feeling a pinch of happiness sprinkle itself over my day. “You don’t need to shout.”
“Blame my upbringing.” Her smile is mischievous and uncaring. “Come have a look at my bathroom! The shower has fourteen different nozzles. I counted them.”
“She’s just been in exactly the same,” Trent assures her. “There’s no need to look at every copy in the house.”
“Aren’t you going to tour us through the rest of the facilities?” she asks instead, dancing from foot to foot. “Ooh! Do you have a home theatre, like a real one with armchairs and a massive screen?”
He nods, the two of us drawing level.
“What about an indoor swimming pool?”
“There’s a heated lap pool, a hot tub, and a sauna,” he says, laughing at her excitement, the energy so rampant I get caught up in the same emotion. “But they’re all in the same room. And there’s an outdoor pool. Although I’d recommend you stay away from that until summer.”
“Summer!” Finley jumps up and down, losing any sense of decorum. “We can stay until summer?”
“You can stay for as long as you like,” he reassures her. “Mi casa es su casa and all that.”
“Your dad can’t be okay with letting strangers live in his house without an end date,” I declare.
“Be nice if someone stopped trying to ruin everything all the time,” Finley muses. “Don’t you agree, Trent?”
“I certainly do.”
I grab her by the waist, swinging her in a circle. “Gang up on me, why don’t you?”
I trail behind the two of them, trying to absorb Finley’s ecstasy at the upgraded living arrangements rather than let my low mood drag hers down. I think I’m doing an okay job of it, but when Trent drops back to put his arm around me, halfway through explaining the kitchen and the magical fridges full of replenishing food—Finley’s assessment—he murmurs, “Are you okay?”
“Do you have the time?” He nods at the stove clock, and I frown. “I should be visiting my mum right now.”
“Oh, shit, honey.” Finley comes over and the stream of excessive compliments comes to an abrupt halt. “I never thought.”
Trent takes my hand in his, tugging me towards an internal door through to the garage. “We can go right now. It’s no problem.”
“I don’t… She gets overwhelmed with lots of people. Just point me towards the nearest bus stop.”
“We’ll wait in the car,” Finley says, inviting herself along as well. “Trent can explain all the gadgets I’m sure he’s hiding in there.”
“You’re tired,” he whispers to me. “And you’re overthinking everything. Just let it go for a few hours. Every one of your worries will be waiting right here when we get back, I promise.”
The assurance is so ridiculous, my mood lightens. “Fine. In that case, show us to your flashiest vehicle.”
“So the wealth is growing on you?” His voice is optimistic.
“No, but the area my mum’s home is in is so bad you’ll have to stay with the car, otherwise, it’ll be stolen.”
I squeeze his hand before letting it go to get into the bright yellow sports car, then having to get out again because it’s the only way Finley can clamber into the back seat.
“That’s what happens when you order me to stop overthinking. I come up with nefarious plans.”
* * *
My mother is strongerthan I’ve seen in weeks, sitting up in bed when I enter the room and tilting her head to get a better view as I rush into her welcoming hug. “Thank goodness,” she exclaims as my embrace lingers longer than usual. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I just had a problem that made work run long.” Then hastily add, “Nothing bad. It’s all being sorted as we speak,” before she can ask.
I stare at her in wonder, absorbing every difference. I love when she’s like this, closer to her old self. Love it even though it makes the loss hit more keenly. Especially when my traitorous thoughts start to believe she might recover, even though I know better.
