over the side of my bed, stand and walk
toward my en-suite.
“Need to use the bathroom,” I mumble as I walk past him. He
just nods, still sleepy.
Throughout the years of arguing and thumping, slapping and
shaking, I think I’ve managed to learn to bounce back, and bounce back quickly
– I’ve had to for Anna’s sake, because if I didn’t, if I let Lewis down by not
being ready or not doing something, I’d be subjected to more arguing, slapping
and thumping. I’ve learned to lick my wounds and carry on. I’m sure there are
some people that may take the view that it’s not so bad, she’s up and around
again now ,but the motivation, the reason for being up and around so quickly is the fear of being knocked down again.
In the bathroom I do what I need to, wash my hands, splash
some water over my face and brush my teeth. Looking in the mirror, I wonder who
this woman is looking back at me. Who is she? Over the last few months so much
has happened. I’m confused, I’m hurt but I’m also very angry. Angry with Lewis
for what he’s done to me, what he’s made me, but also with people who are no
longer here, people I thought I could trust, people who were supposed to
protect me.
Grabbing my robe, I wander back to my room. “Want some
coffee?” I ask the sleepy man in my chair.
“That would be good.” He stands. “Mind if I use your
bathroom first?”
“Go ahead, I’ll be downstairs.” I’m slightly embarrassed
that this man who, let’s face it, I barely know, has slept in my room.
I
sort out my cafetière for his coffee, something I don’t drink myself but I know
that James has coffee in the morning. I make myself a pot of tea, Assam. I
can’t stomach coffee in the morning. Once made I put the cafetière and pot onto
the island along with the milk jug and sugar bowl and sort out a couple of
mugs. I feel like I’m on auto-pilot, completing the mundane day-to-day tasks
without any thought. I glance at the clock, it’s still very early.
Rummaging through the bread bin, I find some bagels. I’m not
really hungry but I expect James will want something. I pop a couple into the
toaster just as he appears, his hair still messed up. Regardless of his state
he still looks incredibly sexy. He walks to the island and drops onto a stool,
reaches for a mug and pours himself coffee, black.
He looks at me concerned, frowning. “You sure you’re okay,
Alex? You don’t look it to me.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need some time,” I mumble as I pour
myself a mug of tea.
Taking the bagels from the toaster, I place them onto a
dinner plate in the middle of the island with a pot of raspberry jam, two bread
and butter plates and a couple of knives. “Help yourself.” I nod towards the
bagels.
The Bossman takes one. “Got any cream cheese?”
“I think so, low fat, it’s in the fridge.” I point towards
the huge stainless steel fridge and he mooches over. I note he’s barefoot. Even
his feet are sexy, just like the rest of him. There’s something about bare feet
– well, nice bare feet!
He returns with his tub of Philly and a punnet of
strawberries. I frown. Cheese and strawberries? He spreads a thick layer of
cream cheese onto his bagel, which he devours quickly, washed down with a
second coffee. I’m still slowly spreading jam onto mine.
“Do you want to talk?” he asks quietly.
“How come you ended up with me?” I ask.
“Because Maggie found me and installed me as her General
Manager,” he answers with a smile, “nothing more than that. And I’m good at
what I do, I suppose,” he adds.
Standing, he takes the strawberries to the sink. One by one
he washes them and hulls them. “Got a bowl?” he asks, with a mouthful of
strawberry. I point to the cupboard and he reaches for a small china cereal
bowl. Using kitchen towel he dries the strawberries off before sitting down
again.
“So you’ve a name for yourself, in the industry?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, I
toward my en-suite.
“Need to use the bathroom,” I mumble as I walk past him. He
just nods, still sleepy.
Throughout the years of arguing and thumping, slapping and
shaking, I think I’ve managed to learn to bounce back, and bounce back quickly
– I’ve had to for Anna’s sake, because if I didn’t, if I let Lewis down by not
being ready or not doing something, I’d be subjected to more arguing, slapping
and thumping. I’ve learned to lick my wounds and carry on. I’m sure there are
some people that may take the view that it’s not so bad, she’s up and around
again now ,but the motivation, the reason for being up and around so quickly is the fear of being knocked down again.
In the bathroom I do what I need to, wash my hands, splash
some water over my face and brush my teeth. Looking in the mirror, I wonder who
this woman is looking back at me. Who is she? Over the last few months so much
has happened. I’m confused, I’m hurt but I’m also very angry. Angry with Lewis
for what he’s done to me, what he’s made me, but also with people who are no
longer here, people I thought I could trust, people who were supposed to
protect me.
Grabbing my robe, I wander back to my room. “Want some
coffee?” I ask the sleepy man in my chair.
“That would be good.” He stands. “Mind if I use your
bathroom first?”
“Go ahead, I’ll be downstairs.” I’m slightly embarrassed
that this man who, let’s face it, I barely know, has slept in my room.
I
sort out my cafetière for his coffee, something I don’t drink myself but I know
that James has coffee in the morning. I make myself a pot of tea, Assam. I
can’t stomach coffee in the morning. Once made I put the cafetière and pot onto
the island along with the milk jug and sugar bowl and sort out a couple of
mugs. I feel like I’m on auto-pilot, completing the mundane day-to-day tasks
without any thought. I glance at the clock, it’s still very early.
Rummaging through the bread bin, I find some bagels. I’m not
really hungry but I expect James will want something. I pop a couple into the
toaster just as he appears, his hair still messed up. Regardless of his state
he still looks incredibly sexy. He walks to the island and drops onto a stool,
reaches for a mug and pours himself coffee, black.
He looks at me concerned, frowning. “You sure you’re okay,
Alex? You don’t look it to me.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need some time,” I mumble as I pour
myself a mug of tea.
Taking the bagels from the toaster, I place them onto a
dinner plate in the middle of the island with a pot of raspberry jam, two bread
and butter plates and a couple of knives. “Help yourself.” I nod towards the
bagels.
The Bossman takes one. “Got any cream cheese?”
“I think so, low fat, it’s in the fridge.” I point towards
the huge stainless steel fridge and he mooches over. I note he’s barefoot. Even
his feet are sexy, just like the rest of him. There’s something about bare feet
– well, nice bare feet!
He returns with his tub of Philly and a punnet of
strawberries. I frown. Cheese and strawberries? He spreads a thick layer of
cream cheese onto his bagel, which he devours quickly, washed down with a
second coffee. I’m still slowly spreading jam onto mine.
“Do you want to talk?” he asks quietly.
“How come you ended up with me?” I ask.
“Because Maggie found me and installed me as her General
Manager,” he answers with a smile, “nothing more than that. And I’m good at
what I do, I suppose,” he adds.
Standing, he takes the strawberries to the sink. One by one
he washes them and hulls them. “Got a bowl?” he asks, with a mouthful of
strawberry. I point to the cupboard and he reaches for a small china cereal
bowl. Using kitchen towel he dries the strawberries off before sitting down
again.
“So you’ve a name for yourself, in the industry?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, I
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