Page 84 of Not That Complicated

“Okay, lovely to know I could do that if I wanted, thanks.”

Smiling, Giselle released me to pour another cup of tea.

I took pity on my horrified father and shook my head, emphatically mouthing,NO. “I’m settled where I am, and, ah. Yeah. I’ll stay for a week—I’ll be working, it’s not a holiday, got so much work to do, you’ll barely even see me—and I’ll take it from there.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

My plan to take overGiselle’s studio-shed were thwarted by the paper-making she’d got into since I was last home. The shed was stuffed with bags of old clothes that she was going to rag, crates of old newspapers that she was going to tear up, and bunches of dried wildflowers that she was going to pluck the petals from and embed in the finished product. At some unnamed date.

Trying to work from my childhood bedroom didn’t feel great. My clients didn’t know I was away from my usual desk, of course, apart from Paulina.

Back when I’d found the first body, I’d emailed her to tell her in great detail exactly how well her fabulous idea for a pity party had gone. I’d updated her about this one, too. As for my other clients, all they saw was a blank white wall and me, cool and professional as always, ready to discuss a brief or tweak a design. They didn’t know I’d had to shove my bookcase full of books, Funko Pops, and priceless vintage Lego Millennium Falcon out of frame. Or that my bed was unmade and my laundry was piling up.

Five days in, I was getting antsy.

A surprise phone call from Fraser hadn’t helped.

The flurry of texts he’d sent after the first body had stopped, and I should have blocked his number. Instead, I answered the call without looking—when would I learn—and the moment I heard his excited voice saying,Ray, I heard about the second body, and we need to— I hung up.

He left a voicemail and I deleted it. He left two more, and I blocked him.

On day one of my exile, I’d called Liam. I texted him on day two because he’d told me to stop calling him, this was official and he wasn’t allowed to share stuff, Ray. I didn’t contact him at all on day three, because by then I was feverishly trying to mock-up some designs for the local craft beer company that my father had pimped me out to.

“You can stop being dramatic about it any time,” Dad said. “You’re perfectly entitled to turn the job down if it’s something you can’t manage to fit in.”

I dropped my shoulders in in relief, and also my arms, which had somehow begun waving in the air as I attempted to explain that just because I worked in a creative business, it didn’t mean I wasn’t shackled to schedules, deadlines, and a finely balanced workflow just like conservatory builders were.

“Thankyou,” I said.

“As long as you don’t mind embarrassing me by pulling out of a commitment, that is.”

“I never made the commitment,” I said. “I can’t pull out.”

“I made it for you. It’s called networking.”

“Pimping, Dad. It’s called pimping.”

“Fine. I’d had a few beers in the pub, the Bears won the rugby—which you know they hardly ever do—and I had a few more, and I might have been boasting about your skills because Brian was going on and on about his grandson making the squad.”

I’m sure that bragging about my skills with Photoshop really showed him. “Wow. Nice try.”

He scowled. “I didn’t know off the top of my head what your project rates are. I may have under-negotiated.”

“I’m getting paid? I thought you were whoring me out for free.”

“Raymond, I’m a businessman.” He then named a sum triple my usual estimate for a simple product design.

I jumped on it.

It couldn’t hurt to get a little extra into my dwindling savings account, in case of another body popping up. With the money from this job, if another one did show up, I’d be able to afford the hotel.

Best of all, getting sucked into it made for an excellent distraction. I was so busy, I didn’t have a spare moment to think about Adam.

Except at night.

At night, I couldn’tstopthinking about Adam.

On the night of Day Four, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. It was a full moon. I’d left the curtains open and silver light poured in. I was moonbathing. The rays fell directly on my bed, and I’d flipped the covers down, and was basking in it. I had a whimsical side.

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