Holiday with the Best Man

She took the bare minimum from her case—it seemed pointless to unpack everything just for one night, when tomorrow she’d be moving to a hotel or whatever alternative accommodation the insurance company offered—and hung her office clothes for the next day in the wardrobe so they wouldn’t be creased overnight. Just as she was about to go back downstairs in search of Roland, her phone rang; thankfully, it was the landlord, who’d spoken to the insurance company and could fill her in on what was happening next.

* * *

Roland was sitting at the kitchen table, checking his emails on his phone, when Grace walked into the kitchen, looking slightly shy.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked.

‘No, thanks. I’m fine,’ she said. ‘The landlord just called me. He’s talked to the insurance company and they’re getting a loss assessor out to see the flat—and me—tomorrow morning at eleven.’

She sounded a little unsure, he thought. ‘Is getting the time off work going to be a problem for you?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m temping at the moment—but if I explain the situation and make the hours up, I’m sure they’ll be fine about it.’

He was surprised. ‘Temping? So you’re what, a PA?’

‘An accountant,’ she corrected.

Which made it even more surprising that she didn’t have a permanent job. ‘How come you’re temping?’

‘It’s a long and boring story. It’s also why I’ve moved into Bella’s flat.’ She flapped a hand dismissively. ‘But it’s not because I’m a criminal or anything, so you don’t need to worry about that. I just made some decisions that made life a bit up in the air for me.’

He wondered what those decisions had been. But she was being cagey about it, so he decided not to push it. It was none of his business, in any case. ‘You can keep your stuff here as long as you need to, so that isn’t a problem.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘You must be hungry. I certainly am, so I was thinking of ordering us a takeaway.’

‘Which I’ll pay for,’ she said immediately.

‘Hardly. You’re my guest.’

‘You weren’t expecting me,’ she pointed out. ‘And I’d feel a lot happier if you let me pay. It’s the least I can do, considering how much you’ve done for me this evening.’

He could see that she wasn’t going to budge on the issue. In her shoes, he’d feel the same way, so he decided to give in gracefully. ‘OK. Thank you.’

‘And I’m doing the washing up,’ she added.

‘There’s no need. I have a housekeeping service.’

She scoffed. ‘I’m still not leaving a pile of dirty dishes next to the sink.’

A princess would’ve taken a housekeeper for granted. Grace didn’t, and she clearly wasn’t playing a part. How on earth had he got her so wrong? ‘We’ll share the washing up,’ he said, feeling guilty about the way he’d misjudged her. ‘What do you like? Chinese? Pizza?’

‘Anything,’ she said.

So she wasn’t fussy about food, either.

And, given the way she was dressed...it was almost as if she was trying to blend in to her surroundings. Minimum fuss, minimum attention.

Why would someone want to hide like that?

Not that it was any of his business. He ordered a selection of dishes from his local Chinese takeaway. ‘It’ll be here in twenty minutes,’ he said when he put the phone down.

It felt very odd to be domesticated, Roland thought as he laid two places at the kitchen table. For nearly two years he’d eaten most of his evening meals alone, except if he’d been on business or when Hugh, Tarquin or his sister Philly had insisted on him joining them. Being here alone with Grace was strange. But he just about managed to make small talk with her until the food arrived.

His hand brushed against hers a couple of times when they heaped their plates from the takeaway cartons, and that weird prickle of awareness he’d felt at the wedding made itself known again.

Did she feel it, too? he wondered. Because she wasn’t meeting his eyes, and had bowed her head slightly so her hair covered her face. Did he fluster her, the way she flustered him?

And, if so, what were they going to do about it?

Not that he was really in a position to do anything about it. He’d told Hugh and Tarquin that he was ready to date again, but he knew he wasn’t. How could he trust himself not to let a new partner down, given the way he’d let his wife down? Until he could start to forgive himself, he couldn’t move on.