Page 110 of The Facilitator 1

“If I hadn’t had confronted him, forced him toresign…”

“You didn’t talk him into coming here and punching me, so stop that crap. He made thatdecision.”

“What can I do,Lauren?”

“You can make me a cup of tea and maybe sit with me for awhile.”

“I’ve never made a cup of teabefore.”

I laughed, it hurt a little, but he made me laugh. “You’ve never made a cup oftea?”

“No, never drink iteither.”

I went to stand. “Sit, it can’t be that hard,” hesaid.

I watched him fill the kettle then stare at it until he figured out where the on button was. He opened the cupboard and retrieved two mugs. Despite the tin clearly saying ‘Tea’ on the front, I had to point it out to him. He placed two tea bags in the mugs, and when the kettle boiled, hepoured.

“Do you have milk?” he asked. Inodded.

He pulled the teabags from the mugs with a teaspoon then looked around for a bin. Not finding one, he deposited them in the sink, added milk, and then satagain.

“It looks…lovely,” I said, looking at the tea my mum would describe as a cup of gnat’spiss.

“I think I overdid the milk,” hesaid.

I took a sip, “I think you did,” I chuckled and thenwinced.

“Let’s get some ice on that face,” he said and rose to head to thefreezer.

He cracked some ice from the tray and wrapped it in a tea towel. He gently held it to mycheek.

“Ouch,” I said. The cold stung my skin. “So, how was yourdinner?”

He looked at me and shook his head. “Fucking boring. I left early, said I had an important meeting with abox.”

“I didn’t openit.”

“So I see. How about we get you in bed, you must behurting.”

“I ache, but I think that’s just the shock. It probably looks worse than it actually is. He never did have a good punch oraim.”

“Well, I can guarantee he certainly feltone.”

As I stood, I leaned against his chest, wrapping my arms around hiswaist.

“Thank you, but you know you can’t go round beating people up in London. The police don’t take too kindly to it, they prefer to do it themselves in a cell, with nowitnesses.”

Mackenzie picked me up; the action caused me to wince some more as my hip hit his stomach. He walked into the bedroom and placed me on the bed. I shuffled around, dragging the duvet fromunderneath.

“I’ll get your tea, or do you want me to make anothercup?”

“It’s fine, thankyou.”

He brought back the one mug. “Sorry, I can’t drink thatshit.”

He walked around to the other side of the bed, pulled off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and undid his trousers. He stepped out of them and climbed onto the bed next tome.

“Come here,” hesaid.

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