Page 129 of The Invitation

I let out a laugh, falling back in my chair. “I like cheesy Jude.”

He rolls his eyes. “Make sure you do your stretches.”

“What? Stretches? Why do I need to stretch?”

“So you don’t break when I bend you to my will tomorrow.”

“Ireallylike dominant Jude.”

“And Ilovesubmissive Amelia.” He hangs up, and I sit at my desk, spinning my pen, falling into a daydream. My body’s still achy from yesterday, the skin on my thighs still sore. Helovessubmissive Amelia. I chomp down on my lip, reaching for my chest and rubbing.

I jump when my office door flies open. “Someone’s popular today,” Leighton muses, casually wandering over to one of my shelving units and perusing the spines of my files. I slowly look up through my lashes, my hand falling to my mouse and closing down various screens. So he’s noticed my flurry of visitors today, huh?

“Good day?” I ask, ignoring his observation. Not feeding it.

“Very.” He faces me and smiles. It’s as sincere as I know him to be.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“I’ve heard through the grapevine that you were out with some of the partners on Friday evening.”

I turn off my computer and grab my bag. “Oh, it’s lunchtime,” I say, passing him and leaving, scorning myself for my secret, smug smile.

He’s worried.

I call out my hello as I let myself into Mum and Dad’s, dropping my bags and files in the hallway before I poke my head around the lounge door. “Hey, you two.”

Grandma and Grandpa look up from their usual spots and beam at me. “Here she is,” Grandpa says, dropping his paper and beckoning me to him. Old, squishy lips press into my cheek.

“Where’s Mum and Dad?” I ask, going to Grandma.

“Your mother’s in the kitchen and your father’s at the office.”

“He’s supposed to be retired.”

“Hello!” Clark yells from the hallway, the door slamming soon after. He appears in his suit.

“Look how dapper he is,” Grandma sings as Grandpa pats the arm of his chair.

“Come, Clark, tell me about your day.”

I roll my eyes and leave Clark to talk business with Grandpa, passing him as I head to the kitchen. “Have you told my ex he can’t come to the wedding yet?” I hiss, scowling playfully.

“I’m working on it,” he grumbles.

“You’d better hurry up, it’s next week,” I remind him, entering the kitchen. “Whoa,” I say, coming face-to-face with a giant bouquet of peonies.

Mum turns from the stove, a wooden spoon in her hand. “They’re for you.”

I can’t hold back my exasperated sigh. Here’s me hoping Nick will give up, but instead he’s upped the ante. This bunch is double the size of all the other bunches.

Mum’s lips are a little pursed as she waves the spoon at the mass of blooms. “Maybe you should read the card.”

Guilt flares as I approach the bouquet, searching for the card amid the spray. “Mum, I take no pleasure from this.” I pluck the card outand open it. “I’ve tried to be considerate, but I think I’m just increasing his hopes.”

Mum turns and folds her arms over her chest, her body language saying everything I expect she wants me to hear. It’s not fair that they’re making me feel guilty too. I pull the card out.

Missing you.

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