Page 41 of Note to Self
“Oh, okay. But still, it’s a lot of fuss.” I don’t quite get the point.
“Apart from being hot as hell, he’s gay.” Merrick laughs. “The whole town is going to be made up of gay men.”
“And single bloody women, thanks a bunch.” Stacey pouts.
Trent nudges me. “We should get a pet. Then we can check out the hot vet.”
“Err, no. I’m the only guy you should be checking out.” I give him a fake glare. All he does is roll his eyes. “Do you want your arse spanked again?” I whisper, unfortunately not as quietly as I wanted. The ones near us all laugh.
Trent blushes the most delicious pink, and I know the idea appeals to him again. “Maybe later.” I kiss the soft skin under his ear.
The conversation moves on, and I talk to Ivan about the nursery and our plans to work together. Trent is deep in conversation with Merrick about the exhibition, which is only a couple of weeks away. The acute nerves he had are settling now. He’s happy with the choices of paintings, and excitement is taking over.
Soon, it’s last call, and we all get up, ready to go home. Trent passes me my coat, then puts on his own and takes my hand. “I’m ready for bed.”
“Not for sleep, I hope.”
With loud goodbyes, we all separate, going in different directions. We walk briskly, the buzz of a few pints takes the chill away, but we don’t hang around. Trent moans. “My little cottage is closer.”
“True, but you don’t live there anymore.” I laugh as he continues to grumble the rest of the way home.
We get in and head straight to bed. Any ideas of sex are out the window, thanks to Trent being asleep by the time I finished in the bathroom.
I wake up to an empty bed and the smell of rich coffee. Trent, I’ve learnt, is an early riser, a true morning person. He’s talking, but I don’t hear a second voice, so he must be on the phone. I get out of bed, grab a pair of sweats, and follow the scent of the coffee.
When I walk into the kitchen, Trent spins around and gives me a tight smile, but he still presses the phone to his ear. “I’m going to say this for the last time. Leave me alone. You didn’t even like me when we were together, so why the hell are you interested now?”
Trent is quiet for a few seconds. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Just fuck off. Don’t call me again.”
I don’t want to be angry with him, but this is obviously not the first phone call from his ex, and he hasn’t mentioned it tome. I count to five before I speak, choosing my words carefully. “How many times has he called?”
“Too many. This is the first one I answered. He’s just being a dick, missing his ego boost.” He sighs, scrubbing his hands through his already messy hair. “It was a different number this morning, so I answered. I’m going to have to change my number.”
“Is he dangerous, babe? Do you think you should get a restraining order or at least check out how to get one?”
“Maybe, but honestly, I think he’s just between men and thinks I’m easy to get back. I’m not proud to say he’s done it before, and I’ve gone trotting back. He’s a narcissist and hates rejection.”
“Well, it’s easy enough to change your number. We can do that in one call.”
The phone call has rattled Trent more than he lets on. After contacting the phone network, he now has a new number. But he’s distant, his concentration gone to pieces. All I want to do is sit him down and demand to know what the arsehole said to him. Instead, I let him go into his studio and paint. With not much else to do, I go to the nursery and check on the plants and trees. Everything is growing perfectly, and with the building of the shop almost finished, we will be up and running in no time. While it will be ready, I need to wait until the spring for all the plants to grow and the vegetables to be ready to sell. Until then, I’m relying on my gardening services.
I grab my shovel and fork and move to the farthest bed and start to dig, trying to clear my head of every scenario I can put Trent and his ex in. The ground works easily, thanks to years of being worked on by the previous owners, even though that was years ago. A noise interrupts the negativity running around in my head of images of Trent driving away, laughing with theunknown man. The sound is high pitched, an animal, one in pain.
I drop the spade and spin around to find out where the noise is coming from. It yowls again. I follow the whimpering to a large, dense bramble bush that I haven’t got around to clearing yet, as it’s in the far corner of the plot. The thorns snag my jumper. It’s going to be impossible to do this by myself. I crouch, peering into the thicket. Whatever it is, it’s burrowed down deep.
“Hold on. I’ll get you out.” Hopefully, it hears me.
As I rush into the house, I call out to Trent. “Trent, Trent! I need your help.” I run up the stairs.
He meets me on the landing, confusion written all over his face. “What’s up? Are you hurt?”
“No, no, there’s something stuck in the brambles. It’s too dense to get to it.”
“Something? An animal?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know what. It sounds like it’s in pain. I need to get some secateurs and gloves.”
We get everything together and sprint back to the corner. The yowl has weakened and is more of a whine now. We snap the branches away. The thorns still manage to find skin to tear into, but we carry on.
