Page 143 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

She started typing.

Bea: Hello, darling. Sifis is doing wonderfully. I spent some time with him yesterday. I don’t think he’s entirely convinced I’m one of his people yet, but he seems willing to tolerate me. Oh, and you need to keep an eye out for the post. I bought some baklava on my way to the shelter yesterday and found a courier who promised they could get it to you in a couple of days. I didn’t dare trust the ordinary post with it. I thought you might end up with a box of mold by the time it reached Montana.

She wanted to say so much more, but the message was already getting ridiculously long. She could save the rest for another time.

She hit send. The sight of the three little dots appearing almost immediately shouldn’t have affected her as much as it did, but somehow they felt like a real connection. She hadn’t simply sent words away into the void to sit there until Blane woke up or finished whatever he was doing. Somewhere half a world away, he had his phone in his hand too. He was here with her for these few seconds, waiting and typing while she waited and watched.

It meant far too much.

Blane: Hey, darlin’. You didn’t need to do that. Must’ve cost you a fortune.

She smiled.

Bea: Hello, darling. I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to. I know how much you like it.

Blane: I do. Still didn’t need to go to all that trouble for me.

Bea: It isn’t all for you, darling. Brooke has a claim on it too.

The dots appeared again.

Blane: Fair enough. I’ll make sure she gets some.

She laughed.

Bea: Half, Blane. I sent you half each.

This time his reply came almost at once.

Blane: Like I said. I’ll make sure she gets some.

Bea stood in her kitchen laughing at the screen, and for the first time in over a month, she almost felt as though he was here with her, as though the distance had briefly thinned enough that she could almost hear that deep, gravelly voice of his.

Her phone rang, and for a moment her heart soared, but then she saw the name on the screen.

She smiled as she answered. “Hello, Meg.”

“Well, you sound disgustingly cheerful.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You answered the phone smiling. I can hear it.”

“That’s ridiculous. You cannot hear a smile.”

“I’ve known you for fifty years. I can hear several different varieties of smile. That one was a man.”

Bea looked down at Blane’s last message and failed to hold in another smile. “Oh, stop it.”

“Have you heard from Blane?”

“Yes.”

“I knew it.” Meg sounded pleased with herself. “What’s he done?”

“Nothing. We were only texting.”

“Only texting,” Meg repeated. “And yet you sound like a teenager whose boyfriend just rang the house phone.”