Unsuitable

She took her hand away. She’d nearly wrapped her fingers in his shirt when he smiled. She noticed the pins and needles in her ankle. “Sorry I’m so late.”

“Wow, I really crashed, lights out.”

“I had trouble waking you.” She looked away. Did he know what she’d done instead of waking him? Was he making himself complicit?

“God. Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I should’ve. Hey it’s—”

“It’s really late, early. Don’t apologise. I’m the one in the wrong here.”

He moved and it was like the whole world swapping axis, rotating the other way. He swung his legs around and sat. His arms came out, his hands grasped her forearms. “Audrey, are you okay?” He bent forward, brought his face near. “You’re so pale. “ He frowned. “Did you eat? You should have something now. I can heat some pasta. You’ve got to be kidding; you worked a sixteen hour day.”

Somehow he got her off her knees onto her dead ankles while she declined the offer of food. He should be gone. She could be cleaning her teeth, putting her head to the pillow. He’d manoeuvred her to his side on the couch, his arm around her back as if he thought she was fragile, as if he thought she might crumble and she didn’t deserve his attention.

“Reece, I’m fine.” He should go. She needed him to go.

“Of course you are.” His fingers were at the back of her neck. “If you were carrying your shoulders any higher you’d be deaf.”

It hurt when he pressed the muscles of her neck and she winced.

“Yeah, I know. Give me a few minutes. You’ll sleep better.”

“You don’t. You should. Oh my goodness.” Her turn to groan from some hidden room of hurt inside her chest where knowledge of muscular tension hid its song. She should stand up. If she stood up, he’d know to go. She wouldn’t embarrass herself any further by going limp, by breathing weirdly, by wanting him to go on with the press of his big blunt fingers in the rigid column of her neck. Instead of her feet engaging with the floor, her head dropped forward so he had better access. It gave him what he wanted and she couldn’t be annoyed with that.

“That’s better,” he said, sounding so pleased.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. I try not to do things I don’t want to do. Short life and all that. I don’t see the point in pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“A man who loves children.”

“That’s part of it.”

He would make her whole body limp if she didn’t fight to stay awake. “Do you and Sky talk about having a family?”

His hands hesitated. “We don’t. I don’t think either of us believes we’re forever.”

“Oh, Reece, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried like that. Left my diplomacy at work.”

“It’s not a big deal. Truth is I’m not enough for Sky. She says I lack ambition.”

Audrey turned her head so she could see his face. He didn’t look like he’d knifed his own soul with that admission.

“Keep your head turned like that.” He moved his fingers and found new tight points of pain and she gasped. “Is what you do at work worth all this?” She opened her mouth and he said. “You’ve lost weight. Your eyes aren’t clear. You need to take better care of yourself.”

She turned her head away. She hadn’t expected a lecture. She’d stand up. He moved his hands again, did something so that her back was braced against his torso and her knees became soggy noodles. He smelled of dishwa

shing detergent and spray and wipe. He felt like security and comfort. She needed to remember who they were to each other.

“Did she give you any trouble going to bed?”

He chuckled. “There was whispering in the wardrobe so that was an issue. Me and the wardrobe had words. Then there was an ant. I never saw the ant, but it was troublesome, a magic make you wide awake ant. But no, don’t worry. She’s such a good kid. But she’s gone off drinking milk for some reason.”

“Worry about that tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. Did you win at work?”

“A small victory. Some workarounds, my main project is still in trouble.”