Page 17 of Wistful Whispers

“If you do need to take any time off the offer stands. You’re not that busy at the moment with appointments and we can get Ols’ help to find someone to cover you.”

“Thank you Sheila, I appreciate the offer but for now we’re fine. I drop Hannah at Alluring Adventures before I come here and pick her up on my way home.” Hannah has returned to work and Ols will watch over her like a hawk.

“We’re all behind you both. Whatever happens, if you need any help, if you need to stay at the hotel for a few days, just let us know. Please.”

“Thank you,” I swallow hard to hide how much this means to me. Maybe when this is over I should let my guard down a bit more. It seems I have way more friends than I assumed.

Chapter 8

Jake

The cottage pie isnearly done and the kitchen is filled with the smell of bubbling mince and baked potato. I’m just sprinkling extra cheese on top when I hear Hannah padding down the hallway. She appears in the doorway, hair damp and a bit wild from the shower, wearing her oversized jumper and those fluffy socks she claims are essential. She gives me a look like she’s caught me in the act.

“You know, one of these days I’ll actually cook dinner foryou,” she says, folding her arms as she leans against the doorframe smirking.

“Promises, promises,” I say, giving her side-eye as I shove the dish back in the oven. “You’ve been saying that for years, yet here we are.”

She lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Alright, fine. You like showing off too much to let me near the kitchen.”

“Oi, just because I like cooking doesn’t mean I don’t like a break every now and then,” I say, grabbing a bottle of lemonade from the fridge. “Wouldn’t mind trying this mythical ‘Hannah’s cooking’ you keep mentioning.”

“It exists!” she insists, rolling her eyes. “But then you pull out the cottage pie or that curry you made last week and I just—”

“Admit you’d miss it if I stopped,” I say, pouring her a glass and handing it to her. She takes it with a little smile, her fingers brushing mine in a way that makes me feel like maybe cooking for her every week isn’t such a bad deal after all.

“You’re smug, you know that?” she says, taking a sip.

“And you love it.” I grin, taking a sip of my own.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, but her face softens and she moves a bit closer. She reaches out, straightening my shirt in an unnecessary way, her fingers lingering.

“Trying to keep me presentable?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Someone’s got to,” she says, giving me a playful nudge with her hip.

The oven timer dings and I turn, pulling the pie out with a bit of a flourish. I set it on the table and we both settle down. She closes her eyes as we dig in, making an exaggeratedly blissful face that has me laughing.

“I get it, you love it,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“It’s bloody brilliant, alright?” she replies through a mouthful, giving me a look. “If you ever get tired of me at least feed me before you leave me.”

I shake my head. “You know that’s never going to happen. I stay as long as you want me.”

She falls quiet for a moment, giving me a look I can’t quite place, then clears her throat and takes another bite. We eat in easy silence, enjoying the food and the moment until I remember what’s been on my mind all day.

“So… how’s everything with the baby? What did the doctor say?” I ask casually, though my heart skips a beat as I say it. I wish I could have gone with her. I have yet to hear the girl’s heartbeat. I’ve sat in the waiting room a few times but as a “friend” it just never felt right for me to ask to be there. And today I had clients booked so Ols drove her to the doctor and waited for her.

She gives me a soft smile. “Good. All the scans have been alright so far and the midwife reckons everything’s on track. Just feels like I don’t have a clue what I’m doing sometimes.”

“Hey, you’re gonna be brilliant,” I say, giving her a nudge. “The princess is lucky to have you.”

“Jake, do you want to come to the next appointment? You don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“I would love to,” I quickly interrupt her. She studies me before asking softly:

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to.”

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