“Abby, don’t lie to me,” he said, but softly, taking the sting out of his words. “You haven’t been yourself all night.”
She felt her brows go up and started, “I –” but he cut her off.
“It’s the house.”
Her brows lowered significantly, registering her confusion. “The house?”
“I’ll not have you living in that house the way it is,” he stated firmly.
It dawned on her that he meant her house.
“Cash –” she began again only to be cut off again.
“I know I told you I wouldn’t get involved but, darling, it’s taking too long. I don’t like the thought of you there without the bare necessities. Simon’s report indicated there are other significant issues. They have to be seen to promptly and I’m going to see that they are.”
“Cash, I –” she began again only to be interrupted again.
“I’m not discussing this,” he declared.
Abby sighed and she did this deeply and loudly.
Then she asked, “Can I speak now?”
“Only if you don’t intend to argue with me,” he answered.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or yell.
She wanted to laugh because it felt nice, him taking care of her, seeing to her “issues”. She hadn’t had anyone (but Jenny) to help her along the journey of life for so long she forgot how good it felt to share the burden.
She wanted to yell because he was way, too, damned bossy.
Instead, she did neither. Partly because she had a headache but partly because escorts didn’t argue, girlfriends did.
She was, she told herself firmly, the former, not the latter.
“I can’t say I wasn’t a bit,” she hesitated then found the word she was looking for, “peeved when Simon and Nigel showed up today. But I got over it.”
His lips tipped up at the word “peeved” but he replied, “If that’s the case, can you explain why you’ve been distant all night?”
She answered immediately, “Yes. I have a headache. I’ve been fighting it all day. I –” she stopped talking because she saw his eyes narrow dangerously and she knew from experience that was not a good sign.
His hand came up and pulled off his glasses.
“You have a headache?” he asked, his voice had dipped low, toward the scary zone where it went when he was irate.
“Yes,” she told him cautiously then went on. “It’s not a big deal. I get them sometimes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded to know and she could tell by the way he did that he wasn’t irate, he’d gone beyond that.
“It’s not a big deal,” Abby repeated, confused by his reaction.
“Normally, no. When you’ve slammed your head against a basin and lost consciousness, then yes, it f**king well is,” he returned, tossed his glasses on his papers and reached for his BlackBerry.
Abby blinked and asked, “What are you doing?”
His eyes were on his BlackBerry and he was using his thumb to manipulate it but he answered, “I’m calling my physician.”
Abby pulled in a breath then said quietly, “Cash, you don’t have to do that. It’s just a headache.”
His eyes came to hers and pinned her to the spot.
Not that she could go anywhere. The hand that was resting on her hip had become fingers gripping it.
“Have you felt nauseous?” he asked.
“No.”
“Dizzy?”
“No.”
“Problems with balance? Vision?”
“No!” she cried. “Cash –”
But his eyes moved away and he said into his phone, “Tim? Cash,” and Abby stared at him in shocked, but contradictorily pleased, horror as he continued, “sorry for the late call but Abby had an accident last night, hit her head and was unconscious for several minutes. She was checked by paramedics…”
And he went on and Abby watched him.
When it became clear to Cash that all was well and clear to Abby, from what she heard of their conversation, that Invisible Tim had given her the go-ahead to live her life and take the flight the next day, which was something she hadn’t considered or she would have faked a full-blown concussion, Cash ended the call.
“Tim thinks you’ll be okay,” Cash informed her.
“I already told you I was okay,” she informed Cash.
“Do you have seven years of medical training and fifteen years of practice?” Cash asked evenly.
Abby gritted her teeth and then replied, “No.”
He watched her mouth as she formed the word, his own mouth forming a grin.
“All right then,” he muttered, leaned forward, kissed her forehead and sat back, his eyes coming to hers. “we’re agreed. We’ll take Tim’s word for it.”
They weren’t agreed on anything but Abby didn’t say that.
She continued to grit her teeth and stare at him.
This made him chuckle.
Her stare became a glare.
His chuckle became a laugh.
She stopped glaring and rolled her eyes.
He pushed up to his feet, taking her with him, announcing, “Time for bed.”
On that, they were agreed.
* * * * *
After Cash gave her more paracetamol, they turned out the lights and made their way upstairs.
They were in bed, Abby’s front pressed to Cash’s, his arm resting heavily on her waist, their legs tangled and she felt his steady breathing stir the hair at her crown.
It was then the tears stung the backs of her eyes.
And Abby realised it hurt, it actually physically hurt, to want something, something within reach, something that was pressed tight to you, legs tangled with yours.
Something you couldn’t have.
And it hurt because she knew it was wrong to betray Ben’s memory. She knew it was wrong to have the desire to move on, not to something else, but to something that felt better than what she had before.
And it hurt because she knew she was being selfish. Most women didn’t even have the beauty of what she had with Ben much less the glory of all that was Cash.
To control the tears, she allowed herself a moment of weakness.
Knowing he was asleep and she was safe to give a piece of herself away, she wrapped her arm around his waist and snuggled closer to his solid warmth.
And she fell asleep.
* * * * *
Cash felt Abby’s weight settle into him.
His arm tightened around her and he bent his knee until his thigh was pressed against the heat of her. In sleep, she accommodated him by hooking her leg around his hip.