Right Number, Wrong Girl

Which was unfortunate, if you asked me.

When I rose to power, pyjamas were going to be the outfit for office workers everywhere. And everyone else.

I sighed, staring at the sky. The sun was gradually lowering, and the sky was darkening just like my mood.

I was so conflicted. I was absolutely heartbroken for Cam, and a little bit for myself. I’d met her grandma several times over the years, and I’d always adored her, and I knew her loss would leave an irreplaceable hole in their family.

But it was another impossible situation I’d found myself in.

Nobody was at fault. Guilt gnawed at me for thinking the things I was, but I was only human, and unfortunately that meant I wasn’t a perfect person.

I was a good person—mostly—who thought bad things sometimes.

Now was one of those times.

I was angry.

I didn’t want to be doing this. It wasn’t helping me at all, even if she was going to pay me more. The fact was that I needed to find a job, and the longer I had to spend here, the longer that was going to take me.

I couldn’t mooch off Camilla forever, no matter what she said. Not to mention that I knew she was holding off on moving in with Ollie because we lived together. I wanted her to be happy, but I wanted me to be happy, too.

It didn’t matter that I felt more at peace here at Bluebell Cottage than I had for a long time in London. The countryside was a part of who I was given where I’d grown up, and I liked to think that one day I’d settle down back in the middle of nowhere.

But this wasn’t that day. My romantic prospects were nil, despite Hugo’s jokes about flirting with me. At least I thought they were jokes. If they weren’t, he had a very strange way of flirting.

Sure, I felt a little fuzzy when he touched me, and the times he’d helped me into his truck had sent my hormones into overdrive, knotting my stomach, and making my heart skip a little faster than normal, but that wasn’t the point.

I was putting my life on hold to help my best friend, and although she’d done as much as she had for me, the dread in my gut meant that I wasn’t appreciating that as much as I probably should have been.

And that was all right.

I was allowed to feel that way.

A wet nose touched my bare foot, and I jumped, almost spilling my wine.

“Hi, Oscar,” I said, reaching down to scratch the collie’s head. “What are you doing here?”

“Bringing someone a blanket,” Nora said from the gate, holding up a checked blanket with a smile. “You’ll catch your death out here, dear.”

“Oh, thank you. I just needed some fresh air.”

She walked over, unfolding the blanket, and I dutifully lifted my glass so she could drape it over me.

“Would you like some company?”

“I wouldn’t say no.”

Nora skirted past me and sat next to me on the bench, and Oscar lay down at our feet with his tail slowly wagging and shifting dirt from one side to the other.

“What’s on your mind, dear? You look awfully bogged down with something.”

“Camilla isn’t coming home like I thought,” I replied. “Her grandma passed away this afternoon and she’s now staying until after the funeral.”

“Ah.” Nora nodded knowingly. “That puts you in quite the spot, doesn’t it?”

“You have no idea.”

“Why don’t you tell me, then?”