Page 35 of Handle with Care
Will shakes his head.
I suppose that’s an answer. My shoulders drop a little.
After a second false start, Will meets my gaze, looking sheepish. “Maybe I could use a little help. My balance is off with the migraine…”
“Of course.” I practically bolt over in my eagerness to help, giving him a hand up and a steadying arm for a moment until he gives me the nod to let him go. “You’ll be alright?”
“I’ll shout if I need anything.” Will carefully gathers his clothes from yesterday, walking more slowly than usual.
When he takes his turn with the shower after me, I can’t help but wonder if he’s done the same thing, getting off in theshower, though odds are against since he’s not feeling great. It’s distracting me all over again.
But eventually, he’s out. Unfortunately dressed. And wearing his leg again. Or still. I’m not sure which.
Somehow, reality’s shifted back to the usual, like that moment in the bed together never happened. Like I imagined it. It’s probably for the best it didn’t.
“How’re you feeling?” I ask. A reasonable question. “Are you hungry?”
Will shrugs, looking uncertain. “I don’t know. Somewhat better? I’m not hungry, though.”
I nod, which is a bit worrying because he hasn’t eaten in like a day.
“I’m starving,” I confess reluctantly. “I don’t know if you want to watch me eat or if you’d rather rest. Checkout’s at eleven, so we’ve got another hour.”
After a moment of hesitation, Will nods. He sits in the chair. “Maybe I’ll rest.”
So, I leave him alone in the room, while I have a full English breakfast in the pub to keep me going. While I’m downstairs, I check to see if the room’s available for another night, but unfortunately, it’s not. Disappointing. And also, it’s a bit worrying because we have to get back to London. Or, I suppose, find another room. I don’t know if I can survive a second morning waking up like that with Will in my arms. I’ll burst.
At fifteen minutes to 11:00 a.m., I go back upstairs and bring Will a cup of tea and load our things into the Land Rover. When I return, he’s standing outside of the door to the pub on the pavement, looking a bit brighter than yesterday, but not quite his usual self either. He squints at me.
“What would you like to do next?” I ask him, passing over my sunglasses, which he puts on without complaint. “We have options. I can try to find us another hotel in this village orsomewhere nearby. I can drive us back to London. We can go have lunch. Or do some other option I haven’t thought of yet.”
Will smiles. “How about we pick up a few groceries and go sit outside somewhere? I think the fresh air will help me feel better. Then we’ll see.”
“Anything you want,” I say in a rush, and we go do just that.
Chapter Fourteen
We find a quiet, leafy spot off the narrow footpath beside the River Lune, with a picturesque old stone bridge, the Devil’s Bridge, a short distance away. It’s idyllic, a gentle green landscape around us, a fenced pasture to our backs. And somehow, we have the place to ourselves. Birds call. Today, the heat is soft, a high veil of wispy cloud cutting the July sun.
Will has a blanket in the back of his Land Rover that we’re using for our impromptu picnic overlooking the river. As picnics go, it’s kind of funny because although we have a lot of food, I’m still stuffed from the full breakfast I had a couple of hours ago, though I’m making a valiant effort with some fruit and cheese. Meanwhile, Will’s sticking to sparkling water and crackers and giving everything else side-eye, which tells me plenty about how he’s feeling, even if he won’t confess. At least I had my tie-dyed bucket hat in his SUV, which he’s now wearing, so that’s helping cut some of the brightness for him, even if we are beneath the shade of a large tree.
We haven’t said anything so far about what happened between us this morning. Or about the reveals of yesterday either.
Do I bring any of this up? I eat more grapes as I mull this over. There’re a million reasons why not.
On the water, ducks swim, and we watch them as Will slowly crunches through cracker after cracker. A soft breeze stirs the grasses on the bank.
“We should probably forget what happened earlier,” I say tentatively.
“Yes,” Will says immediately. “Excellent idea.”
“Great.” Relieved, I nod. “No problem. Nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened. Nothing to talk about,” Will agrees, his gaze still following the duck family on the water, leaving ripples in their wake. We very carefully don’t look at each other.
“I mean,” I reason, “least of all we have to work together. We should keep things professional.”
“Yes. Work.” Will nods too. “Strong point. Let’s keep things professional, like you said. It’s for the best.”
