My head sank into the feather pillow and I curled into a fetal position. Behind me, Stefan edged closer, lifting up the bedcovers and rearranging them over both of us. His chest, belly then legs met my back and thighs.
I settled into him, sensing his warmth, his breathing and the pulse of his heartbeats—a gentle rhythm.
Sleep came instantaneously.
* * * *
I experienced another morning waking up confused by a strange bed and room. It came as no surprise to find Stefan absent. I rubbed my eyes, sat up and hugged my knees.
The bedroom door creaked open. “You’re awake.” He smiled. I’d forgotten how handsome his face could be when he broke into a smile. “I was going to offer you a typical continental breakfast—cheese, salami, black bread.”
I struggled to contain a look of distaste. He laughed. “Okay. How about croissants and jam?”
I nodded vigorously. “Please.”
“Take a shower.” He pointed at the en suite. “Then join me in the kitchen.”
Stefan, back in charge. It felt right, comforting, being compliant and agreeable.
The shower had a monsoon style head. I stood under the warmth and wetness, face up, and let the spray splash over my skin—gone the terrible anxiety of the last few days. Anger, despair, all slipped out of my system, joining the water heading for the plughole.
Stefan was back in my life. Drying my hair with a towel, I hummed, contented and fulfilled with good thoughts.
I joined him in the kitchen. We grinned at each other over the breakfast bar, munching on warm pastries and quaffing delicious, freshly ground coffee.
“Do you have a return flight booked?” asked Stefan.
I shook my head. “I’m playing it by ear.”
“And so far?” A brief pensive expression cast a shadow over his face.
“I’m in no rush to leave,” I reassured.
His features lit up. “Good. What about your job?”
“Bridge
t has been very accommodating, but I shouldn’t take advantage of her generosity for too long. The weekend isn’t a problem. After…” I stumbled. I didn’t want to impose, not if his father came home.
“Of course not. Bridget is a kind employer.”
“And you? When do you return?”
He frowned. “I spoke to the hospital this morning. Dad can come out tomorrow, or more likely Monday. He wants to leave today. The caregiver I’ve appointed arrives on Monday.”
I crushed a flake of pastry under my thumb. Two days. Just him and me.
“Do you fancy a swim?” he asked.
* * * *
He took me out through the back door into the garden, a square stretch of mown lawn and borders waiting to burst into spring bloom. Across the garden stood a timber building topped off by a V-shaped roof with one side covered in solar panels.
“This way.”
The pool house was warm and through the windowpanes lining the walls, light streamed through, adding an extra layer of coziness. The swimming pool measured a few meters wide by roughly ten in length. Not the kind of pool for practicing Olympic swimming. I crouched and dipped a hand in the water. It seemed as warm as the air about it.
I rose and faced Stefan. “It’s lovely.”