Page 80 of The Jealous Girl

Though… he’d promised that before, too.

The unwelcome thought slipped into my consciousness before I could stop it, bringing a flicker of unease with it.

I threw the duvet off and swung my legs out of bed, as though physically distancing myself from it.

This wasn’t the same.

He lived here now. With me.

I grabbed my phone and padded to the kitchen barefooted.

Dropping my phone on the kitchen worktop, I filled the water jug and slid it back into the Nespresso machine, dropped in a capsule, placed a mug beneath it and pressed the button.

I leaned back against the counter, listening to the pop and gurgle of the machine as it whirred to life. I reached for my phone and opened WhatsApp.

Morning love.

I missed you this morning. I hope you have a good day.

I’m on the day shift today, so I’ll be home around 7.

I hit send.

At least I’d be home early enough to eat together tonight. We could actually sit down together. Talk.

I smiled as my shoulders eased.

There hadn’t been much time for that in the last two weeks since we’d got back from Malta. Between his long days and my shifts, we seemed to be crossing paths rather than living together.

But tonight would be different.

The Nespresso machine gave a final splutter. I picked up the mug, blowing gently across the surface, eager to take that first blissful sip.

Ben always used to tease me for that.

I scrunched my nose, the thought of him catching me off guard.

Another man who I’d never quite figured out.

Two Years Ago – Mid July

I blew across the top of my mug and set a second cup into place beneath the machine, tapping the button again.

I glanced towards the office door standing partially open, the distant sounds from the yard drifting in.

Picking up my notepad, I scanned the list of questions I’d scribbled down ready to ask Ben when he arrived. I still felt bad that he was getting the worst end of this deal. Giving up his morning break to help me figure out the chaos of Blackwater’s systems just for a cup of coffee didn’t seem like a fair exchange.

But he didn’t seem to mind.

After all, he kept showing up every morning for his coffee.

I frowned as I checked the door again.

The machine finished. I placed the cup opposite mine on the desk and turned back to the screen.

Farrier invoice.

What did that mean?