After a while he cleared his throat. ‘So, Eggheads. Am I recording it?’
A bubble of laughter whooshed out of her. ‘Is that okay?’
‘It is if you stop crying.’ His smile took the heat out of his words. ‘I’m not good with crying women. I don’t have the fancy words.’
She used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe the wet from her cheeks. ‘No more tears, I promise. And I don’t need fancy words. I’ve come round for a bit of your blunt honesty.’ Drawing in a breath, she nodded towards the TV. ‘You record Eggheads, I’ll make the tea. Then I need you to listen and tell me what you think.’
She spilled everything, the snide asides from Freya, the way Luke seemed to drop whatever he was doing to answer her calls, the leaking tap and finally today’s bombshell.
He only spoke when she’d finished. ‘What’s the real issue here? That you’re angry he didn’t tell you he’d slept with Freya a few years ago? Or you think he still has feelings for her?’
Mia clasped a hand around her knees. ‘That’s good, distilling it down like that.’
He let out a gruff-sounding laugh. ‘What’s the answer then?’
‘I want to say both, but is that a cop-out?’
‘Your feelings are your feelings.’ He scratched at his beard. ‘But if you want to know what I think, I’d say if the man wanted to get back with his ex, he’s had ample opportunity. Instead he started dating you, organised a shindig for you the other night, told you he loves you.’ He gave her a half-smile. ‘Do I need to go on?’
‘You think I’m making a fuss over nothing.’ Mia wanted to believe that too, but she’d trusted before, believed in someone before, and had it explode in her face.
‘I think this woman is trying to drive a wedge between the pair of you, and you’re allowing it.’
She winced. ‘Ouch.’
‘You asked for my opinion. I’ve given it. No point complaining you don’t like it.’
She gave him a pouty look. ‘You’re supposed to be on my side.’
‘I am, lass. I am.’
She mulled on Stan’s words for the rest of the evening.
When she woke the following morning, she posted a note in the window.
Can we talk again?
* * *
Yours @ 10 a.m.
Chapter Thirty-Six
It was 9.45 a.m. and Luke was in the kitchen fixing himself his usual wake-himself-up coffee when there was a knock on the door. Opening it, he was surprised to find Freya. Again.
‘What do you want?’ After her behaviour the previous morning, he didn’t feel particularly friendly.
‘Grace needs a lift to college and I’ve got a meeting I need to get to. Will you take her?’
‘Of course.’ He was about to ask if she needed to go right that minute, when Freya stepped back into her own flat and shouted Grace’s name.
‘Calm it, I’m coming,’ came a clearly exasperated voice.
‘Okay, I take it we need to leave now,’ he murmured. He might as well have been talking to himself because Freya was busy telling Grace to hurry and Grace was busy telling Freya to stop being such a nag.
When Grace appeared in the doorway she gave him a pained look. ‘Tell Mum to focus on her own life and leave me to sort mine.’
He wanted to agree, to tell Freya to keep out of his life too, but he and Freya had made a vow when Grace was born to never undermine each other in front of their daughter. Just because they weren’t together in the traditional sense didn’t mean they weren’t a unit when it came to parenting. ‘Your mum is only trying to make sure you get to your class on time, so cut her some slack.’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Have you got everything?’ Freya asked sharply.
Grace rolled her eyes. ‘Jeeze, yes, take a chill pill.’
Figuring the best way to defuse the situation was to get on their way, Luke shot back to his flat and picked up his keys. ‘Come on kiddo, let’s get out of your mum’s hair.’
‘She’s been in a dead weird mood recently,’ Grace muttered as they climbed into the TVR.
‘Maybe she’s stressed about work,’ he offered.
‘Nah, work never stresses her. She loves all that crap.’
He flicked Grace a look. ‘I’m tempted to say it might be her time of the month, but I’m scared you’ll clock me one.’
‘You’re right to be scared.’ Glancing down at her phone, she sighed. ‘I can’t even play my music, can I, ’cos your dumb car doesn’t have Bluetooth.’
He chuckled, tapping the console. ‘Nope, it’s better than that. It has a radio.’ He flicked it on to the local station.
Fifteen minutes later he pulled up outside the school gate. ‘What happened to the bus today?’
Grace shrugged. ‘Nothing. I was going to take it, but Mum said she’d drop me. Then she said she couldn’t and she’d get you to do it.’
‘Her meeting must have been last minute then.’
‘I suppose.’ She glanced down at her watch. ‘Guess I’d better head to the study room.’
‘I thought you had a lecture?’
‘Yeah, but not till half eleven.’
‘What was all the rush then?’
She frowned at him. ‘You’re kidding. Mum said I had to go now or you couldn’t take me.’
‘But it’s Friday. She knows Bill covers lunch and I don’t go into work until later.’
They shared a look, both clearly trying to work out why the scarily organised woman they knew had forgotten that fact. ‘Maybe she just forgot.’
‘Maybe.’ But he knew the explanation couldn’t be as simple as that, because Freya didn’t ‘just forget’ anything. She also didn’t have last-minute meetings, because again, that implied something had come up she hadn’t anticipated, and that simply didn’t happen in her world.
Was she still smarting from the dressing down he’d given her yesterday when he’d returned the milk? Upset both with her and the situation, he’d accused Freya of meddling, which of course she hadn’t appreciated. She’d rebuffed him with words along the lines of Don’t blame me, it’s your dishonesty that’s got you into the mess.
‘Dad?’
Grace’s voice brought him back. ‘Sorry Pickle, I got lost in my head for a bit.’
‘Is everything okay?’
She looked so concerned, he bent to kiss her forehead. ‘Of course. Mia and I just had a bit of a falling-out yesterday. Nothing we can’t fix.’ Even as he said the words, his stomach knotted and he felt a desperate need to cross his fingers in the hope the gesture would somehow help.
‘What did you row about?’
Your mum let slip that we’d slept together a couple of times around that really shitty Christmas when your gran fell ill. ‘That’s kind of personal.’
She nodded, her green eyes, so similar to his own, giving him a steady scrutiny. ‘Do you love Mia?’
‘Yes.’ He reached across, holding Grace’s chin in his hand. ‘It doesn’t mean I love you any less, or that I’ll have any less time for you.’