Page 108 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

I feel like I’ve been given the chance to make up for the awkwardness between us. It’s on me after all that I’ve claimed to be too busy to do our cheesy sightseeing. Probably on me as well that he’s been staying in his apartment – apart from when I called around this week to do his cleaning and found that he’d gone out. A fact I’d reassured Mrs. Lundy over when I’d then popped in to clean for her.

At the time I’d been relieved. For about ten seconds. After that, I’d missed his company. His apartment had been spotless so me taking my time over it, almost as if I was waiting for him to return, had been even more ridiculous.

Now, as I stare at George it’s as if he doesn’t seem to know how to take up the opening I’ve laid out, so I add, ‘George’s speciality is advertising and marketing – increasing revenue streams, getting the word out about services and products, so that would tie in really well. Same principles, right?’

‘Ashleigh,’ George’s voice is a soft warning but I’m on a roll now. Too intent on helping.

‘British,’ I explain to the table as I set down his plate. ‘Very self-deprecating. But George is absolutely your man for this. And if you only need someone temporarily, he’s between jobs, and you did say you were from the cardiology department and?—'

‘Ashleigh!’

George says my name with such portent that I’m forced to use my inside head voice to finish my ‘—you won’t find anyone with more heart to help you out,’ statement.

I become aware I’m slightly out of breath and from the look on George’s face I’d have been better off breaking the ice between us again by leaving him an amusing crossword clue to fill in.

I don’t get why he’s looking so upset. He needs a job. This is a job made for him. It’s serendipitous. Plus, he’d actually get what patients were going through.

‘George, let’s talk,’ the guest sitting beside him says, looking very interested in capitalising on this new information.

‘I’m sorry.’ I rush out. ‘I shouldn’t have suggested?—’

‘Nonsense,’ Mrs. Lundy says. ‘No idea is a wrong idea. And it’s not as if you don’t have a connection to the hospital anyway.’

‘She does?’ George asks, watching me carefully. ‘You do?’

‘I—’ Oh no. Is Mrs. Lundy going to mention Sarah used to work at the hospital before she … died? How’s George going to feel about that? Apart from bad that he fell asleep while I was telling him, that is.

‘Ashleigh’s part of the volunteer reading programme for the children’s wards,’ she says.

Instead of feeling relieved I feel put under the spotlight and, okay, I’m starting to get what George may have been feeling.

‘A small way of helping,’ I mutter.

‘And you love helping, right?’ George says, his smile tight.

Chapter Thirty-Three

HOLE HEARTED

Ashleigh

‘Why are you stealing Mrs. Lundy’s plates?’

I whirl around at the question and find George leaning casually against the kitchen countertop, helping himself to another piece of the pecan and toffee roulade Oz served for dessert.

‘You scared the crap out of me,’ I say. So much for thinking I was alone. The kitchen is the last place I expected to find him. Not that I’d been searching for him. Okay, I had. But only so that I could ignore him. I’m still mad at him. And myself. Hadn’t realised I’d given him the power to hurt me with a few curt words about helping people.

Despite George and I being in a weird place, the dinner party has been a huge hit. Mrs. Lundy had us all out of the kitchen so the guests could compliment the chef and watching Carlos beaming with pride at the praise being heaped upon Oz had given me the warm and fuzzies. But now in the kitchen, I’m caught off-guard again. ‘And I am not stealing anything,’ I state, deliberately finishing the act of putting the plate into my bag along with the broken one. ‘I broke the first and noticed a crack in this one. I’m taking them home to fix.’

George doesn’t say a word but as he stands opposite me, his blue eyes cool and assessing, I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking that the evidence is stacking up on my predilection for saving things.

‘What are you doing in here, anyway?’ I ask, closing up my bag, which then leaves me nothing to do with my hands. There’s a breathless quality in my voice and the urge to clean becomes acute so I move towards the sink and start filling it so I can wash some items while the dishwasher finishes.

‘It’s an emergency,’ George says.

‘Low blood sugar?’ I ask, dubiously, watching him slowly put another forkful of the dessert into his mouth. I take in his open shirt collar and the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. The swipe of his tongue as he licks a crumb off his thumb.

I grab a stack of plates and with trembling hands plunge them into the too-hot water as I imagine Sarah’s wicked observation that he’s, ‘Awful good at eating things.’

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