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So I keep my mouth shut. After a moment, she gives a tight nod. Expression still unreadable, she looks around the kitchen as if surprised to find herself there.
“I think I’m going to go home.”
“What?”
“Just back to the cottage.”
“Oh. Okay.” I don’t want her to leave, but it’s not like I can keep her here. Kidnapping still being illegal and all.
She gives me a smile that seems a little forced, even to me, who normally doesn’t notice that sort of thing and is always forcing myself. “It’s been a long and weird week.”
“How so?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
“Just … the whole being sick thing. And you bringing me down here. Which I appreciate. Really.” She gives an exaggerated double thumbs up. “You went above and beyond. Top-notch service. Five out of five stars. Would definitely recommend. But I think I should go back … to my … space. At the cottage. By myself for a bit.”
She makes it almost to the door before she turns back and gestures to the biscuits sitting out on the counter.
“They should be ready to eat now. And don’t forget the compote.”
I watch her leave, more confused than ever.
Clearly, I did or said something wrong.
Maybe she just needs a little space. Or maybe I fucked everything up.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Savannah
* * *
By the time I make it back to my cottage, I’ve realized three things:
1. I’m a coward for running away
2. This virus kicked my ass, because I’m out of breath before I even make it back to the cottage
3. I’ll have to return to the main house, because I abandoned Mr. Sniggles there, like the worst cat mom ever
4. My phone has been here at the cottage all this time and I never even thought to ask about it
And, yes, I realize that’s four things.
I’m just going to stop counting at four. The way my life is going right now, if I keep on like this the list could get quite long.
A braver woman than I would grab my phone and immediately head back to the main house to rescue her cat. But I don’t know that I have the emotional strength to face more heart-felt confessions from Ian and confront the sad state of my health all in one day. Especially not since Mr. Sniggles seems perfectly content to lounge around on Ian’s expensive leather sectional.
Obviously, I will go steal my cat back at some point. Just not yet. Besides, I don’t think I could take it if I march down the hill for my cat, only to have Mr. Sniggles give me the slightest sign that he’d rather stay with Ian.
Let’s face it. Given the way today has been going, that seems likely.
Instead of thinking about Ian or Mr. Sniggles, I check my messages. I have a couple of voice mails from my mom, some text messages from people I used to work with, one from Dan asking if I still have his fillet knife (Um, no. I never did.), and a whole series of texts from Trinity.
* * *
Hey, check in when you get a chance
How are you doing?
