Michael handed over the paper. “Instructions for head-injured patients. You probably know it all, but read it anyway. If you’re worried, the next step is to bring her into the department for a scan. I’m in tomorrow, so call my mobile and I’ll arrange it.”
“Thanks.” Alec stared down at the paper in his hand.
Tomorrow he was supposed to be traveling deep into the English countryside to celebrate Christmas early with his family. It had made sense to combine a trip with his other commitments because he needed to be back in Maine in order to meet his deadline.
His friend snapped his bag closed. “She can’t be left on her own, of course, but given that she has you, that’s not a problem.”
Alec realized that Michael had misunderstood their relationship. He opened his mouth to put him right, but his friend was already walking to the door.
“I have to dash. I’m supposed to be having a late dinner with the in-laws. May will kill me if I don’t show up. Next time you’re over here, email me and you must come for dinner. Bring Skylar.” He opened the door and lowered his voice. “Can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you getting back out there. We were worried that after everything that happened with Selina you wouldn’t take the risk again. And I can see why you were finally tempted back into the scary world of relationships. Skylar is a stunner. Nice smile. Taking her home for Christmas?”
Alec frowned. “No! I—”
“Next time give me more notice. We’ll grab a beer. Give my love to your family. May and I are going over there for New Year’s Eve. Looking forward to your mother’s cooking—wish she’d give mine a few lessons.” He slapped Alec on the shoulder and was out the door before Alec had time to correct the misconceptions that were piling up.
He stood in the doorway, digesting the fact that his friends and family were still speculating on his divorce and love life.
He’d carefully laid down ground rules for that.
As far as he was concerned the subject was closed and he’d moved on.
He tried to spend as little time as possible thinking about his marriage. He certainly didn’t want others thinking about it.
Aware that there was silence from the bedroom, Alec locked the door and walked back into the room.
Skylar had fallen asleep.
Her hair, clean again, lay in a pool around her shoulders, as if someone had knocked over a jar of pale creamy honey.
Alec stared down at her and felt a flicker of concern.
He found himself wishing she’d wake up and return to her chatty, energetic self. Being with Skylar was like being outdoors without sunglasses on a day when the sun was just a little too bright. Usually he wanted to turn down the wattage, but maybe that was because his own world had been dark and gray for the past few years.
Sleeping Beauty, he thought and gently pulled the cover over her.
There was no question of her going back to her own hotel, at least not tonight.
He dimmed the lights, wondering what to do about his family gathering.
His mother was working on Christmas Day and he’d be back on Puffin Island, so this date for their annual “early Christmas” had been in his calendar for months.
It was the one time of year everyone made an effort to be together.
There was no way he could cancel.
Which left him with the problem of what to do about Skylar.
Through the window he could see the snow falling layer upon layer, leaving an ever-deepening carpet of white on the streets below.
If it didn’t stop soon, his journey home the next day would be hazardous. Negotiating English country roads in the middle of a snowstorm was not for the fainthearted.
He opened his laptop, scanned the news and found a photograph of Richard Everson. The caption said that he’d been in London for the exhibition of his girlfriend, jewelry designer Skylar Tempest. There was nothing about the proposal.
Alec closed his laptop and strolled over to the bed to check on Skylar again.
She was still sleeping, her breathing even, the bruising on her head dark against the swathe of pale hair.
The bed was huge, plenty big enough for two people to spend the night and not come into contact, but he lifted the bags from the sofa and piled them on the floor. He’d slept in places where most people wouldn’t venture, so the prospect of a night on a sofa didn’t bother him.