“Ah, lovely. Thank you! I know it’s usually white with risotto, but do you fancy cracking the red?”
“Yeah, actually. Red would be…”
“Glasses are in there.” Jules gestured her wooden spoon at the cabinet next to the fridge. “Sorry, need to keep stirring, are you okay to?—”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll pop the white in the fridge.” Catherine released a soft laugh at the sight of the photo. In hindsight, the woman was obviously Jules — with that unmistakable smile stretching across her face. And Will was clearly gay — no straight man she’d ever met was as well groomed. She didn’t know how she’d missed it before.
“Oh, and I brought some treats for Juniper, too. Does he like…” Catherine glanced at the packet, and read the name aloud, “Lick-e-Lix?”
“I don’t know about him, but I do.”
Confusion stalled Catherine for a moment. “You like cat treats?”
Jules threw her head back and laughed. “Sorry, I was being smutty.”
“Oh, right,” she said, turning the words over in her head until the penny dropped.Oh God!Laughter tittered from her too; partly through mortification, partly because Jules’s whooping belly-laughs were contagious.
Jules battled to catch her breath and swiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m so sorry, that was…” She waved a hand in apology, before clutching it around her middle. “Sorry, it’s Will… he’s a bad influence. He has my mind as filthy as his.”
“I’ll never look at cat food the same way again.”
“Juni loves Lick-e-Lix. You can give him some now if you want, his bowls are in the?—”
“I know.” Catherine smiled and took a small dish from the cupboard. She squeezed out the creamy pink paste and popped it down for Juni, who sat by her feet chirping in anticipation.
“Yep, I was right.” Jules glanced over and giggled.
“What’s that?”
“I always suspected the traitorous little bastard would give me up in a heartbeat if food was involved.”
Catherine uncorked the wine and poured two generous glasses. She passed one to Jules and clinked it with her own before taking a sip.
Mmm, she’d chosen well.
“Can I help with anything else?”
“No, no. It’s nearly done. Why don’t you go through to the lounge and make yourself at home? I won’t be much longer.”
Catherinedouble-blinked when she entered the lounge. The chaos she’d seen a few days before had been composed, and with Jules’s possessions in place, the room had taken on a whole new personality — not a doily or knick-knack in sight.
Statement rugs cleverly zoned the space, and two large colourful canvases adorned the walls. Scatter cushions and a plush throw dressed the sofa, and an oversized three-wick candle flickered on the coffee table, perfuming the air with a pleasant zesty scent.
The bookcase she’d built now sat flush against the wall, the shelves lined with books. By the window, a small round dining table had been set for two and, judging by the statement tableware, Jules was used to entertaining. Still, Catherine’s chest squeezed at the effort Jules had gone tofor her.
The only sign of Juniper’s existence was a tall, well-worn scratching post tucked in the corner with a bunch of sisal threads pulled loose.
Catherine eyed the doorway before reaching around to liberate the lace underwear from between her bum cheeks, where it seemed intent on riding. She sipped her wine as she scanned the books on the shelves — chunky spines bore names of authors she didn’t recognise, shouldering up to the few she actually knew. And there was an entire row of travel guides. She tilted her head and eyed the names of cities she’d never even heard of before.
Where the hell is Tbilisi?Were these all the places Juleshad already visited, or the places she dreamed of visiting? Either way, Catherine suddenly felt small and humbled by Jules’s worldliness. By comparison, her own life seemed like a tapestry woven from mundane threads. She’d never really lived beyond this small town, where the decades had been swallowed helping other people to mend their broken lives and move on. But she’d never really moved on herself,had she?
Christ, I’m being triggered by a bookcase.
She shook the negative thoughts from her head and turned to the glorious sight of Jules carrying two steaming dishes into the room. She’d taken off her apron, revealing a grey sweatshirt and form-fitting jeans.
“Grab a seat,” she said.
Jules set a dish in front of her, and Catherine’s mouth watered at the sight of the seared king oyster mushroom atop a bed of risotto and garnished with a pretty purple flower.
