Page 50 of Don't Bite the Boy Next Door
14
I re-read the email, one more time, and shake my head at my stupidity.
Tess,
It will come as no surprise to you that Christopher is a dumb cunt, but he has well and truly out-idioted himself this time, and I’m sorry to be the bearer of such news, but here it is:
Ryan wouldn’t have a bar of having you in his house, come Hell or high water, so Christopher offered him a deal. In exchange for hiding and protecting you, your half of the farm (once part of his family’s property, as you know) would be returned to Spencer Holdings when you were safe.
None of us knew about this, well, I didn’t, until now.
Christopher’s thinking, according to Serena, was that one farm is much the same as another, and he would simply buy you a new one elsewhere when the dust settles.
Like I said, he’s a dick and has no idea of how much you love where you live.
I know you are probably hyperventilating now, but stay calm. Tristan and I are on our way and will sort this whole mess out. I promise you - you won’t have to leave your farm.
XXX Pru.
Unplugging the computer, I pop it into its bag and finish packing at warp speed.
I had contacted removalists the moment I digested the email and booked them in for Boxing Day – none, no matter how much money I offered, would move me this side of Christmas.
Heading down the hallway, I decide that it’s probably not a bad thing. People should be with their families on Christmas. And I might need a few days to say goodbye properly to my beloved property, and to rein in all my emotions.
Christopher had called not long after I received Pru’s email. He was apologetic and offered to bring in his own people to move me out – but I’d declined.
“No thank you, Christopher, I’ve taken all the help I need from you.”
“Tess, I’m so sorry,” he had sighed. “It was the only way he would agree, and we couldn’t see any other way forward – I had no idea it would be this time of year.”
“I understand,” I’d replied, my voice a monotone, my anger and despair so deep I felt numb, just as I do now. “If Ryan wants his family farm back, then he will have it. He never wanted me in his house, but he did it, despite how uncomfortable it obviously made him. Now I know why. I just wish you’d let me know.”
“Tess...”
“Never mind,” I’d cut him off, “you and my sisters seem to think you need to manage my life, that I’m too silly or weak to make my own decisions. I understand.”
“That’s not it…” he began.
“Goodbye, Christopher.”
I’d hung up on him then.
Now, reaching the porch, unnoticed, I cast my eyes around, but can’t find Orson.
I can hear wood being chopped in the backyard, and assume Ryan has headed outside, which is a huge relief – I have no intention of speaking to him or his mother. I just need to go.
Studying the snowy front yard and seeing no sign of little piglet tracks, I realise Orson is probably inside by the fire.
Steeling myself, I leave my bags on the porch and head back inside.
“Orson,” I call quietly.
A little grunt answers my call, and I make my way into the lounge area. Sure enough, he is lying on the couch with the cats, his head on Ryan’s mother’s lap.
“Hello, Tess,” she says quietly, as I come to stand before her. “I want to thank you for giving Ryan and I some time together, and thank you for all you have done for him.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t done anything, I’m just a houseguest.”
