Uncharacteristic tears rush to his eyes, and he blinks them away, incredibly grateful to his donor for the gift they’ve givenhim. Grateful to be alive. ‘I have two, and they both beat,’ he croaks.
Her blue eyes, so much like her mother’s, widen. ‘Wow. Where did your second heart come from? I only have one.’
‘Someone gave me their heart because they didn’t need it anymore.’
‘Why didn’t they?’
He walked into that one. Shit, Kirsten will kill him if she comes back to catch him explaining death to Rosie, especially on her sixth birthday. ‘Um, what I mean is, their heart was so big they leant me half.’ He wings it, hoping she’ll stop asking questions.
‘Oh. Was it an older girl?’ She tilts her head, curious.
‘Don’t know.’ It makes him feel ashamed. ‘Why?’
‘I can kind of… feel her. She has long black hair, blue eyes and is pale, like Snow White.’
His face drains of colour, the foggy dream from weeks ago resurfacing. ‘W-what?’
‘Who wants a drink, before our guests arrive?’ Albie strolls up.
Harley straightens, annoyed at the interruption because he’s caught up in Rosie’s vivid imagination.
Albie raises bushy eyebrows. ‘Are you alright? You’re a bit off-colour.’
Harley sees the genuine care in the older man’s eyes and feels the press of Rosie’s soft hand sliding into his, affection spiking in his chest. Is this place, these people and his extra heart healing him? If so, he’s lucky to have ended up here. ‘I’m fine,’ he replies, mouth twitching into a smile. ‘Actually, I’m good.’
Later, there’s a commotion on the other side of the lawn. Tori’s in the paddling pool struggling to untangle her wet T-shirt as a little boy runs off. Ragged scars are visible, twisting across her abdomen. Her expression’s filled with shame and embarrassment, and people are staring as Ethan holds his hand out to help. Reacting instinctively, Harley jogs over, makes a cutting remark to the guests so interested in the view and drags his polo top over his head. Offering a reassuring comment, he passes it to Tori, who yanks it down over her T-shirt and bolts. He considers chasing after her, but Ethan beats him to it.
With a sigh, he finds everyone who’d been staring at Tori watching him with unabashed curiosity. He realises his baseball cap dropped to the floor when he whipped his top off. Do they recognise him? Flushing, he scoops it up and lopes away.
Hiding behind a dense patch of rose bushes in the walled garden, he thinks about the risk he just took. Idiot. Still, at least no one had their phones out. And as far as they know, he just looks a bit like a famous tennis star. Or if it is him, he could just be visiting for the day?
He jumps as a warm hand touches his bare shoulder.
‘That was so nice of you,’ Kirsten says as he swings around to face her. ‘I’m sure Tori appreciated it.’
There’s only a narrow slither of space between their bodies, and her eyes drop to the scar on his broad hair-roughened chest, before lowering to his toned stomach and the little arrow of hair trailing into his shorts. Going bright red, her breath hitches, lips parting.
She looks gorgeous in a cornflower-blue sundress which matches her eyes and shows off her curves, titian hair curling over her shoulders. He wants to kiss her again, but can’t, so grunts something unintelligible and steps back, trying to hide his body’s reaction to her proximity.
Interpreting the movement as rejection, she stiffens. ‘Never mind. I’ll leave you to it.’
Wow, you’ve got a way with women.The little female voice says dryly, as Kirsten stalks through the open gate without waiting for an answer.
Yeah, he sighs.
A few minutes later, Vanessa sashays into view. As usual, she looks like she’s just strolled out of a high-end boutique; blonde hair sleek, make-up flawless, tight high-necked dress outlining her petite frame.
‘It’s ironic, yes?’ Vanessa comments, stopping when she reaches him.
‘What is?’
‘You’re desperate not to be recognised, while I’d do anything to be noticed.’
‘By the media?’ Whenever he sees her, she’s posting on Instagram. The only reason he isn’t worried about his privacy is because she’s never tried taking pictures of him. It’s always pouting selfies.
She sighs. ‘No, by the only person who matters.’ Her eyes flicker towards her toddling son, who’s crouched on one of the paths playing with a handful of gravel.
‘Laurie adores you. He’s always following you around. It’s you who—’ He halts, aware he’s about to say something offensive.
