He sat up, swinging his legs to the floor, then slowly looked around the room, lit by veiled moonlight. The wardrobe had sufficient coat hangers at one end and ample drawer and shelf space at the other. There were also several fluffy bath towels on one of the shelves.
In the corner of the room was an Australian jarrah desk, with a comfortable chair pushed beneath. The desk was functional but also kept with the decorated theme of the room, which, he had to admit, was very masculine. Well, CJ had mentioned that this part of the house had originally been her father’s. Ethan looked more closely at the three framed pictures on the wall, which were all of vintage cars. Nice cars, too. Were they her father’s pictures? Was that her father’s old desk? If so, it leant a more personal touch to the room and he felt privileged she had chosen to have her memories on display for others to share. Perhaps seeing her father’s things around also helped her to cope with the loss.
He hadn’t done that. When he’d suffered great loss, he’d arranged for movers to come to his house and pack everything into boxes before delivering it to a storage locker...a storage locker he still paid for six years later. Then he’d sold the house and bought a sterile apartment near St. Aloysius Hospital. If he hadn’t been forced to take time off, he’d be there right now, working and forgetting his past.
Sighing, Ethan raked both hands through his hair, keeping his thoughts on a tight leash. He was here, which was far better than lying on some beach, being bored for six months. As he took another look at the pictures, peering closely at the detail of the cars, he had to admit that CJ had gone to a great effort to make him comfortable, but what type of woman liked vintage cars?
He supposed a lot of women did but he’d never come across them before. It was a refreshing change. The restoration of his car had been a bone of contention between himself and Abigail. She’d accused him of spending more time with the car than with her.
‘I don’t mind you being at the hospital until all hours, Ethan. That’s your job, I get it. But when you’re home, I want you to spend that time with me, not your car.’
He stood and started pacing around the room. He still felt uncomfortable about sharing accommodation with CJ. He wasn’t used to living with anyone and he wasn’t sure he wanted to adjust. He liked his life the way it was...or the way it had been before his imposed exile from the hospital.
Why had his body betrayed him like that? A prime candidate for a major heart attack? The medical tests had to be incorrect—even though he’d insisted the results be repeated. He exercised. He ate right. Sure, he was stressed but everyone else he knew was also stressed and they hadn’t been told by the CEO to take a six-month sabbatical and de-stress. Why had it been—?
His thoughts halted as he heard a sound nearby. A door being opened and then closed? He strained, listening for more sounds. Quiet footsteps. Was there someone in the house? He shook his head, reminding himself that he was now sharing a house with someone else. Was CJ up or was there someone at the front door? An emergency? Did she need help?
He quickly pulled on a T-shirt, his legs already covered by a pair of pyjama pants. Deciding this was still too informal to greet a possible intruder, he grabbed his robe, belting it loosely before opening his bedroom door. When another sound came, he decided to go and investigate, his entire body alert. He crept into the hallway, keeping to the shadows as he made his way towards the kitchen. Peering around the doorway, all the tension left him as he saw CJ standing in front of the open fridge door, peering inside.
‘Couldn’t sleep?’ he asked, walking into the room.
She jumped sky high and spun to face him.
‘For heaven’s sake, don’t go creeping up on me like that.’ CJ placed one hand over her heart and the other on the baby. She grinned at him and flicked her loose, golden hair over her shoulder. ‘Although, if I do go over my due date, you could always scare me into labour.’ She returned her attention back to the fridge and pulled out the pickles and bananas. As she moved, Ethan took stock of what she was wearing. She was dressed in an oversized nightshirt, her robe open and hanging down her back, and pink fluffy slippers on her feet.
‘Baby won’t settle,’ she offered by way of explanation as she put the food onto the table. ‘Would you mind getting the chocolate spread down from that cupboard, please?’ She pointed in the direction of one of the high kitchen cupboards before turning back to the fridge. ‘Want anything?’ She pulled out a large bottle of ginger beer.
‘No.’ He put the chocolate spread on the table. Her silky hair was cascading smoothly over her shoulders and the urge to run his fingers through it surprised him. It had been a long time since he’d had such an urge, and he instantly quashed it. He’d met his first love at university, sweet Abigail. He ignored the surge of guilt that always came whenever he thought about her. Why, oh, why hadn’t she let him help her? He clenched his jaw. Nothing could be done to change the past. He was done with love. Over. Gone. Finished.
Living here wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to be around people, having to deal with emotions. He didn’t want to be attracted to anyone. He didn’t want to make compromises in his private life and if he’d had any doubts before, seeing his pregnant colleague shift around the kitchen only emphasised that
