Cassie could see Ryan was completely distracted. He’d already taken two phone calls that morning, speaking in angry tones to the repair company. She guessed from the conversation that he was a different person at work and that he must have a hard, uncompromising side that was hidden at home.
“You won’t forget, Dad?” Madison asked anxiously.
“I’ll write it on the timetable,” Cassie promised, as Ryan strode out of the room with his phone ringing yet again.
As soon as the children had left, she went into Ryan’s room to adjust it.
She hadn’t been in his bedroom for longer than it took to dart in, pick up an empty cup, and head out again. She was trying to stay away because the room felt so much like his personal space. It smelled of the deodorant he wore, and there were books on the bedside table that he was reading, a beautiful sea view painting on the wall opposite the bed that she was sure he would have chosen, and even a notepad with a few words scribbled in his forward-tilted, precise hand.
Cassie couldn’t help it. She stood in the middle of the room, on the shiny floorboards, and closed her eyes and breathed in the smell. She imagined him in this room, whistling softly to himself as he pulled off his shirt and walked over to the white-curtained window, staring out for a moment at the restless sea. Then she imagined herself there, too.
At that point she opened her eyes, abandoning the vivid images that were becoming way too personal.
A quick glance around the room confirmed there were no family photos. No wedding portraits, not even pictures of the kids. She wondered if there had been photos in the room before the divorce, or whether Ryan kept everything online.
He’d said the timetable was on the inside of a cupboard. Which one?
She opened one at random and blinked in surprise, because inside, neatly arranged on hangers, were several sets of women’s clothes.
Smart business suits, high-heeled shoes, a variety of blouses in neutral colors.
It looked tidy and untouched, but the presence of the clothes bothered Cassie. It meant that there hadn’t been closure. Either Trish was coming back for them, or else she hadn’t wanted them, and if she hadn’t wanted them, surely a plan should be made? They could be given away to a secondhand store or charity shop. They looked like top-quality garments that were relatively new. They could be used again, rather than moldering in here.
Frowning, she closed the door and moved to the next cupboard.
This was Ryan’s space. A couple of leather jackets and dress shirts, many more T-shirts and casual tops, piles of jeans, and a few tracksuits. On the inside of the door, as he had promised, was the children’s timetable.
Cassie made a note on the relevant days.
She wondered if she should ask Ryan about it, and that night, while they were having their glass of wine, she plucked up the courage to do it.
“I noticed that there are still some of Trish’s clothes in the cupboard,” she said.
Ryan nodded, grimacing.
“She took what she could fit into the boxes she’d brought, and she promised she’d be back to get the rest. She hasn’t been, and I don’t mind. It means she’s not here and not in my space and I don’t have to think about it, if you see where I’m going with this.”
Cassie nodded.
“If you want to give them away, let me know. I can do it for you.”
“That’s a very kind offer, and I think I might just take you up on it, for most of the clothes, anyway. There are a few that I know she will still want, so as soon as I have a chance, I’ll go through them. Once that’s done, I can parcel up what she needs.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Cassie agreed.
“You know, you’re an absolute life saver. I’m so grateful that you’re here.” He smiled.
Cassie had been working hard on keeping the lid on her crush, and she was pleased that she was able to smile in a professional way, without blushing or stammering or showing him that his words were making her melt inside.
Telling him how she felt could only lead down the dangerous road to disappointment. After all, Ryan was a wealthy business owner with film star good looks, while she was just a penniless traveler, even if his kindness and praise made her feel like somebody more special.
*
The next day, as Ryan had another long day at work, she cooked again. This time, she tried her hand at shrimp pasta with lemon and garlic. She was worried that it might not be to the children’s taste, although she’d asked them if they were willing to try it, and was delighted when they both declared it delicious.
“You’re a cookery genius,” Ryan said after taking the first bite.
“I’m not. I don’t know much at all about it and all I’ve been doing is following the recipes in the cookbooks,”
Ryan shook his head.
“Cooking is more than that. Even with a recipe, there’s still feel and instinct involved. People either have a flair for it or they don’t, and you do.”
Madison nodded.
“You’re a great cook, Cassie. You haven’t made one yuck thing the whole time you’ve been here. I love your food. Could you dish me some more, please?”
Ryan smiled fondly at his daughter.
“I’m pleased you are enjoying shrimp. Remember the last time you tried it, when we went on holiday to Madrid last year, and you hated the paella so much that the waiter had to bring you a hamburger instead?”
“That wasn’t me, though,” Madison corrected him. “It was Cousin Tess. She wouldn’t eat the paella and so she got a burger but she didn’t like the burger either so she just had chips. I ate the paella but I picked the shrimp out.”
“Your cousin wasn’t with us at that
