Page 47 of Play On

GAH! I don’t want Noah anywhere near me right now! I refuse to show him sick Violet before he gets first-date Violet!

“You are so sweet to offer, but I don’t need anything. I stocked up yesterday at the supermarket because I had a gut feeling I could get sick,” I say, opening a cupboard and rummaging around for chamomile tea. “I’ve got tissues and lozenges. I plan on doing nothing but sipping hot tea with honey and drinking a lot of water today.”

“You need to eat,” Noah says.

I find the chamomile tea and put the bag into a mug. “I promise I will.”

“You need chicken soup.”

I chuckle at that. “Does that really work or is that a myth?”

He laughs softly, and my stomach flips happily at the sound.

“That’s a fair question, but it would be good for a sore throat. Or ice cream.”

“I can have some delivered if I need it,” I reassure him. “I do not want you coming near me right now. I refuse to be responsible for infecting you.”

“Violet. I’m in a dressing room with a tonne of guys. How much shit do you think I’m exposed to during the season? My immune system is firing on all cylinders.”

“Well, I don’t want it to sputter out with exposure to me,” I retort. “The responsibility would be too much to bear.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh as I pour hot water over my tea bag. “I didn’t know you could be exasperating.”

I grin at that. “You have loads to learn about me, Noah. But our date will have to be rescheduled. It might have to be in Dorset, if you are still keen on coming next week.”

“I am. I actually found a sick place to rent. It’s a cottage built into the Portland stone cliffs. It’s on its own little island, very private, with only a few other cottages. It’s not as close to you, but I thought we could spend part of our time there on the beach. It looks like a great place for us to get to know each other better. I know you might have to work, so I’ll bring my dog and go exploring whilst you do that. And there’s two bedrooms, so no pressure, Violet. Or I can take you home every night. Doesn’t matter to me as long as I can get some time with you.”

Now I’m blinking back tears.

Why did I ever try to push this man away?

“That sounds wonderful,” I manage to say, my voice thick again. I clear my throat, hoping he didn’t hear me becoming a sap on the phone. “And complete inspiration for me to get better.”

“Good. Speaking of getting better, drink your tea, eat some toast, and get back to bed soon, okay? You need fluids and rest.”

I chuckle. “Yes, Doctor.”

“I’ll check in with you later. Ring me if you need anything, okay? I mean that.”

“I will.”

I hang up and bite my lip. I still don’t feel worthy of a man this kind and wonderful. But instead of running from it? Of pushing it away out of fear?

I’m going to face it.

I’m going to work on myself and my feelings and get them sorted.

So one day, I can say without a doubt, that I deserve to have a man like Noah Darby.

And believe it.

* * *

The doorbell jolts me from my position on the sofa, and I groggily try to make sense of what is going on. I push myself up, my throat on fire and my head heavy, and slowly wake up. There’s a trail of tissues I’ve thrown onto the living room floor. The coffee table is littered with lozenge wrappers, a half-full water glass, an empty tea mug that contained Lemsip—a hot drink with paracetamol and decongestant—and a tissue box.

Next, I hear knocking on my door, followed by a familiar voice.

“Violet? It’s Noah.”

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