But then the bed creaks and Tom rests a warm hand on my shoulder as he stands up, telling me that he’ll get it.
It’s probably the postman, I think sleepily, as I hear him dragging on his jeans and pulling a T-shirt over his head.
I snuggle languidly under the duvet, my eyes falling shut again, in no rush to leave this lovely cocoon. Maybe we can go for round three this morning …
‘Who are you?’
The sound of Michael’s forthright question causes my eyes to spring open and I remember that it’sSunday. Thereisno postman coming today. But my brother can’t already be here for lunch, can he?What’s the time?
‘I’m Tom. Hi, you must be Michael,’ I hear Tom reply genially. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
I sit bolt upright.
‘Are you Liv’s boyfriend?’
And freeze.
‘Er, well, no, not quite, but maybe—’
‘Good, because she already has one,’ Michael interrupts. ‘And his name is Finn.’
Shit! I scramble from the bed and wildly look around for my clothes. Where are they?
‘Oh. Okay,’ Tom says placidly.
‘And you have big shoes to fill!’ Michael declares.
Where the hell is my dress? I find it near the en suite. It’s inside out, so I hurriedly thrust my hands into the sleeves and try to turn them the right way out again.
‘I see,’ Tom says as I hastily pull it over my head, forgoing a bra and knickers.
‘He’sreallyfamous,’ Michael adds.
Oh God.
‘His songs are on the radio and everything!’
He’s now right outside the bedroom, having clearly sauntered straight past Tom without an invitation.
‘And he’ll be back soon because he comes here every summer and she’s my baby sister and you’d better watch out!’ he warns as I burst from the room.
‘Michael!’ I snap.
He looks so small next to Tom’s towering frame – his head barely reaches Tom’s pecs.
‘Oh, there you are!’ my brother says cheerfully.
‘What are you doing here?’ I demand to know.
Michael seems to realise something, his dark eyebrows knitting into a look of confusion as he glances straight past me at the room I’ve just exited, his attention zeroing in on the rumpled duvet.
‘No, what areyoudoing here?’ he asks emphatically. ‘That’s not your bed.’
‘Would anyone like a cup of tea or coffee?’ Tom interrupts weakly.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I mutter once my brother has left.
He didn’t stay long; he was just dropping by to tell me that he couldn’t make lunch today. One of his co-workers is ill so his boss asked if he could cover for him.
