Page 9 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

I let go of the fridge door and watch it close slowly.

Politely.

My heart skips a beat and I tense. I definitely do not want a repeat of earlier, so I smile, and say, ‘Pizza?’

Anya reaches out to wind her arms around me. ‘Vegan?’

‘Sure.’ Anything to feel her pressed up against me.

‘What’s that smell?’

I rear back for a second. God, do I have the smell of hospital on me?

‘It smells,’ she wrinkles up her nose. ‘Sort of oceanic?’

Oh.

Yeah.

I smile for the first time in hours. ‘I think the new cleaner started today. I requested a no-bleach smell.’

This was genius of me as smelling bleach always reminds me of?—

‘But George, how will you know they’ve cleaned if you can’t smell the bleach?’

I hug her, running my hands up and down her sides, reluctant to let her go. ‘I guess we’ll have to trust we’ll notice if their standards drop.’

‘Okay.’ I feel her start to relax. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t visit you in the hospital. I really hate those places – not that it should be about me.’ She moves slightly in my arms. Anya’s always at war with the restless energy that seems to thrum under her skin like a tuning fork. She leans back and looks up at me, her blue eyes worried. ‘You do know I only ever want you to be healthy?’

‘I know. It’s okay,’ I reassure her.

‘But I realise how not rushing to be at your side must have come across.’ She tightens her arms around me.

I remind myself that Anya does care. She’s just very used to maintaining an unflappable front. If I ever tried reminding her of the time she admitted to the sense of powerlessness she felt growing up, she would deny it categorically. Not that I would ever remind her, being as I can totally relate.

I probably scared the hell out of her by rushing out of the presentation like I did.

Scared myself a bit too.

But it’s all good now.

I’m all good.

‘I’m sorry too,’ I say, needing her to understand I don’t intend to make a habit of this. ‘I have absolutely no idea why I had a panic attack but I can’t see it happening again. Now, tell me about the awful jokes Tim Duggins tried telling and how many drinks he had before you had to pour him into a taxi?’

* * *

Later we’re sitting on the sofa, the pizza box on the coffee table in front of us. Anya has snuck a couple of bites from the last slice which always makes me happy and now as she reaches across to snaffle some more of the good red too, the words sneak out of my mouth, ‘Anya, what would you have done if it really had been a heart attack?’

Her pretty blue eyes go round. ‘Oh my God, George. Don’t even joke about it.’

She turns to nuzzle my neck in the way she knows I love and we settle down to some healthy, restorative Netflix and chill.

Chapter Four

MAID WITH LOVE

Ashleigh

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