Page 50 of Marry Me…Maybe?
‘So, what are you up to for the rest of the day?’ she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible whilst also steeling herself for being told he had to get back home and had lots to do.
She so desperately didn’t want to lose his company now. She had so much to tell him.
Eventually.
When she got it all straight in her own head.
She was acutely aware that if it hadn’t been for him she never would have spoken to Jake or found out about her mother from Betty.
Not that she had any right to drag him further into this. He’d already gone above and beyond the call of duty, coming here with her today. She needed to remind herself that he wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t even a friend – not really – and he wasn’t interested in a relationship with her. He’d made that very plain.
Many times.
‘No plans,’ he said, his gaze still fixed on hers. ‘I’d like it if you came back to my place and had something to eat.’
His voice sounded just as casual as hers had, but she felt the sincerity of his statement and an acute sense of relief rushed through her. Even if he was only interested in sex, she’d be happy to lose herself in that with him today.
Wouldn’t she?
Yes.
She could do that.
Ignoring a low pull of unease, she smiled and nodded. ‘Okay, that would be great. I don’t have any food at my house anyway.’
‘Good.’ He nodded, as if he hadn’t been in any doubt that she’d agree.
‘Then drive us home, chauffeur,’ she said, forcing her mouth into a cheeky grin.
He snorted. ‘And I’m supposed to be the entitled one,’ he said, turning on the ignition and ramming the gearstick into reverse.
Emily was quiet all the way back to his house – via her house so she could pick up a fresh outfit. There was a heavy weariness about her that he’d never seen before and it bothered him. She hadn’t shown much emotion throughout the funeral. The only sign that it had affected her at all was the way she’d gripped his hand harder as her mother’s coffin had been lowered into the ground.
She hadn’t shed a single tear in his company since she’d heard the news about her mother’s death.
Clearly it still hadn’t fully sunk in yet, and she was riding the denial with her usual brash aplomb.
Not that he was going to push her to talk. She’d get to it when she was ready. He felt sure of that.
Back at his house, they both took a shower and changed into more comfortable clothes before reconvening in the kitchen.
After eating a light tea provided by his housekeeper, they moved into the drawing room to read books and listen to music in the late-afternoon sunshine.
Despite his promise to himself not to get tangled up in the emotion of the situation he couldn’t help but keep looking over to make sure she wasn’t too exhausted, faking her strength after theexcesses of the day. After the fourth time he did this, she sighed and put her book down.
‘You can stop checking to see whether I’m about to burst into tears on you,’ she said crossly.
He snorted. ‘Okay,’ he said, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘Whatever you say.’
She bristled. ‘I can take care of myself, you know.’
‘I know that. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to today.’
She frowned. ‘What? You’re going to adopt me now? Take me under that big protective wing of yours?’
Her voice was jokey, but he sensed an undercurrent of seriousness.
‘Only if you need me to.’ He didn’t want to brush her off in case she was angling to talk, but he knew this was a fine line he was treading. She was independent through and through, and wouldn’t respond well to any attempt to force a confrontation she didn’t want to have.
