Nik’s SUV was out front when she turned up her street and the initial rush of joy was subsumed by uncertainty. She found herself sitting in her little car with the early spring rain beating down on the roof, wondering if she was ever going to find the courage to go in.
It was a lousy day, in keeping with her mood.
Catherine came out onto the doorstep and waved to her. Blast.
‘Darling, Nik’s here,’ she said as Sybella slid past her, dumping her bags and coat in the hall. ‘How is it going at the Hall?’
‘We’re on schedule to open the visitors’ centre at the end of the month.’
Sybella submitted to a hug, then Catherine stage-whispered in her ear, ‘Nik’s in the kitchen. Fleur’s playing with building bricks upstairs with Xanthe Miller. The coast is clear.’
‘For what?’ Sybella blinked at her mother-in-law.
‘I think he wants to ask you something.’
This was also said in an exaggerated stage whisper. Sybella often thought Catherine was wasted in the local theatre group. She needed a bigger stage.
A little part of her lit that wick of hope that nothing—not even abandonment at twelve—had managed to snuff out in Sybella: this hope was that she would find her old, familiar Nik waiting for her and last night had been nothing but a horrible dream.
Nik was sprawled on one of her chairs in the kitchen that somehow looked extra tiny with him on it. His shirt was open at the neck and although he was wearing suit trousers, which meant he had been up in London, he looked a little un-put-together, surprisingly unshaven, which was unlike him. He was thumbing his phone.
Hard at work. On what? More plans to ruin the lives of people he didn’t even know.
Sybella tried to crush the condemnatory thought. She really didn’t want to fight with him.
‘Dushka, I’ve got something to show you.’ He patted his knee as if she were just going to sashay over there and plant her behind down.
Sybella pictured herself doing it, Nik sliding his arm around her waist and kissing her neck and both of them pretending she knew nothing bad about him and they were all going to be fine.
Instead she came closer but not close enough.
With a slightly raised brow in acknowledgement of her decision he shifted to his feet because even being a bastard he was always a gentleman.
He showed her the screen on his phone. ‘What do you think?’
It was a photo display of rooms, luxurious, spacious living areas, lots of glass, and several bedrooms that Nik scrolled through at top speed, barely giving her time to see it even if she were interested.
‘Why are you looking at real estate?’
‘It’s an apartment in Petersburg I’m looking at purchasing.’
‘Oh. It’s very nice.’ She wanted to tell him about the visitors’ centre and she waited for him to ask.
‘Purchasing for us,’ he clarified. ‘You and me and Fleur.’
Sybella literally rocked back on her heels.
‘Why?’
‘I want you to move to St Petersburg with me. We’ll have no more talk about business. This will be our new start.’
Sybella just stared at him.
‘Nik, I can’t leave Edbury village. This is Fleur’s home. This is my home.’
‘It’s not as if you won’t be coming back—both of us have family here.’
‘But I have a job here now too. I mean, the visitors’ centre is due to open.’ She stumbled over telling him because she’d been so excited and now it had just been rendered less important by Nik’s out-of-the-blue decision.
‘Great,’ he said.
‘There’s a lot to do, but you’ve seen the plans. I think it’s going to revitalise the village.’
‘I’m sure it will.’
‘The Heritage Trust have put me up for a local achievement award,’ she blurted out, wondering why she needed to tell him that now.
‘You’ve put a lot of work in.’
He was saying all the right things but he was watching her as if waiting for her spiel to be over so he could get back to what mattered. To him and his plans.
‘The place will be up and running soon and I’m sure there are plenty of volunteers to take over. Hell, I’ll employ people.’ He gave her an intense look. ‘I want you and Fleur in Pitter with me.’