Page 49 of A Very Happy Easter

“If I’d known the way to your heart was through your stomach, I’d have brought full-size Mars bars.”

“Snickers are acceptable too.”

I hadn’t seen Heath for over a month, but nothing had changed. He still made me laugh, and my heart still flipped every time we were close. And he still acted like the perfect gentleman.

He also nudged me awake twice during the movie, and honestly, the storyline wasn’t that bad; I was just exhausted. A gossip columnist once wrote that Edith Renner spends her days sipping smoothies and being tended to by an army of stylists, and it shows, and despite the backhanded compliment, that was the closest I’d come to punching a reporter. Today, I’d visited two shelters, attended three meetings, and covered half a phone shift after Poppy’s son fell off his bicycle. Now I could hardly keep my eyes open. Yes, someone had helped with my hair, but only because I was too tired to lift my arms.

“Sorry,” I whispered after I’d nodded off for the third time. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

Instead of grumbling, he tucked an arm around my back and leaned my head against his shoulder, arranging my hair so my closed eyes wouldn’t be so obvious.

“Just don’t drool on me,” he whispered.

“I would never—” I started, and then I saw his smile. “You’re such a dick.”

“For the next three hours, I’m your dick, so suck it up, my sweet.” He popped a piece of chocolate into my mouth. “Good girl.”

If any other man had said that to me, I’d have run a mile, but flirty, slightly dirty Heath didn’t send me to the starting blocks. No, I kind of liked it. After all, he’d never take things any further, a fact he confirmed as we headed to the car after an hour of small talk in the cinema’s bar.

“Reckon we deserve the best actor awards tonight.”

Right. Because everyone believed we really were an item. Heath had kept his arm around me as we circulated, led our conversations so I didn’t have to, and made sure I always had a non-alcoholic drink in my hand. He sprinkled in little snippets of us as we talked—the way we met, my favourite type of coffee, the Christmas gift I’d bought him. Or rather, the gifts. I’d had a laser shooting set delivered to his office, seeing as I didn’t know whether he’d be home, but he’d set it up in the break room and everyone else was using it. So I sent a duplicate for his apartment.

And tonight, Aya’s bracelet twinkled on my wrist.

“I’ll get you a statuette.”

But I didn’t deserve one. Because…because I was beginning to wonder whether I was acting at all.

“What’s the plan for next month? Any idea?”

Oh, yes. “It’s London Fashion Week.”

Heath groaned dramatically. “Wish I hadn’t asked now.”

“We have invitations to three shows—I’ll let you pick.”

“What do we have to do? Just watch folks parading up and down the catwalk?”

“Yes, and also make notes of any outfits that might be suitable for our later engagements.”

“So it’s fancy shopping?”

“Exactly. Fancy shopping with music, canapés, and small talk.” I covered my mouth as I yawned. “I’m so freaking tired, and my feet hurt.”

Why did the cinema have to be in a pedestrianised area? Walking was the last thing I fancied doing tonight.

“You never did ask me if I watched The Bodyguard.”

“Why does that—” I squeaked as he swung me up into his arms. Okay, this was much better. I nestled against Heath’s chest, and for the first time in years, I had a feeling that all was right with the world.

That feeling lasted less than an hour.

He was standing between two parked cars when I noticed him. Just a glimpse. A shadow, nothing more.

“Did you see that man?”

Jerilyn pulled the car to a stop by my front door. “What man?”

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