Inside she checked on The Kitten—he really needed a name—smiling to see him curled up on top of a basket of ironing. Of course, she’d have to wash it all again, but it was still rather sweet.
After changing out of her wet clothes, she steeled herself for a telephone call to the hospital, something she knew she would have to do daily.
“Naomi is currently sleeping,” the nurse said when Emily managed to get through to someone familiar with her mother’s case. “After some agitation, she was sedated this afternoon and has been doing much better.”
Because she was unconscious? “Should I come for a visit tomorrow?” Emily asked, and a telling pause followed.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea, no,” the nurse said finally. “I’m sorry, but your mother is still quite emotive and agitated. Keeping her to a safe and steady routine is her best option now, without introducing any outside factors.”
So that was what she’d become—an outside factor. Emily murmured her thanks before ending the call. Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them away furiously.
It was foolish to be hurt by this. She’d understood long ago that she couldn’t take her mother’s hostility or even hatred personally. But it made her wonder if she shouldn’t take the love and affection personally, either. Could she trust anything? Anyone?
A soft knock on the door startled her out of her unhappy thoughts, and she wondered which well-meaning neighbour was coming for the scoop now.
But when she opened the door, she saw it wasn’t a neighbour. It was Owen, his dark curls plastered to his face, the shoulders of his coat dripping with rain, his smile both sheepish and wonderful.
“You’re soaked!”
“It’s raining.”
“So I noticed.” Emily realised she was smiling. “Come in.”
She stepped aside as he came into the cottage, dripping all over the floor as he shook the water from his hair the way a dog would. “I just wanted to check how you were doing.”
Her heart contracted, expanded, spilled over. “I’m all right.”
“Your mum?”
“Still doesn’t want to see me.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll call again tomorrow.”
“Will you visit?”
“Not until I’m allowed.”
“I’m sorry, Emily.”
She shrugged, tried to smile, and didn’t manage either. “I wanted to say…I’m sorry for being so emotional earlier. I’m not usually…”
“I know you’re not.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Sorry, but that’s been blindingly obvious from the start.”
She managed a laugh. “I suppose so.”
“How does it feel, letting someone in just a little?”
“Hard.” The word scraped her throat. “Good. But I don’t… You still don’t know me, Owen. I don’t understand why…” Why you’re being so nice to me. His kindness felt both overwhelming and amazing. Too much.
“Well, I was thinking about what you said earlier.” Owen shoved his hands in the pockets of his faded and well-worn jeans, looking uncharacteristically uncertain, his mouth turned downwards, his blue, blue eyes scanning her face.
“What I said…?”
“About me not actually knowing you. And there’s some truth to that, so I thought, why don’t I get to know you? And you get to know me? Properly?”
Emily gazed at him uncertainly as she tried to figure out what he meant. “How do you mean…?”
“We go out on a date. Or actually, we go in on a date. I’m inviting you to my house for dinner.” His smile was wide, his stance confident now, powerful shoulders thrown back, yet the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes made Emily ache. Why was he trying so hard? No one ever had before.
She’d never even been invited on a proper date before, and now that she was, she wasn’t sure how to respond. How to feel.
“Emily…?”
“Sorry, I’m just…” She gave a little laugh as she shook her head. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“You weren’t?” Owen looked a bit surprised. Dates were fairly normal occurrences, Emily supposed, for other people. Getting asked on one probably wasn’t that big a deal.
“No, I…I’ve never actually been on a date before.” She tensed, waiting for his reaction. Shock? Pity? Revulsion, as he realised just how backward and inexperienced she really was, having hidden away from everything for so much of her life? How much work she was, for someone interested in dating her?
Amazingly, he took it in his stride. His mouth curved wider, his eyes glinting like a promise. “Then it’s about time you went on one.”
The ease of his response made her smile again, and something that had been hard and tight inside her loosened, just a little. Maybe something could be that simple for once. That easy.
“Yes,” she said slowly, smiling as she said it. “Yes, I think you might be right.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Ava…?”
Emily had to nearly jump out of the way as Ava marched into her cottage on Saturday night, a hanging bag in one hand, a bottle of gin in the other.
“Um, it’s nice to see you, but what are you doing here?”
Ava turned around, a look of purpose on her beautiful face. “We have work to do.”
“We do?”
Ava glanced at her watch. “It’s only two hours until your date with Owen. Yes, we have work.”
“What…?” All week long Emily had been hugging the secret of her date with Owen to herself. She’d gone to work, chatted with Alice, arranged the fundraiser, held a business meeting with Henry, and said not a word.
Every night she’d walked home, called the hospital—no real change happening there—and made her dinner, cuddled still-nameless kitten and thought about Saturday night, because she was becoming a little bit obsessed. But she still hadn’t told anyone, because that wasn’t her style, and it felt too precious a secret to share.
“How did you know about it?” she asked and Ava’s mouth curved in a cat-like smile.
“I know everything, love. But seriously, Owen told me. He wanted some advice, bless him.”
“Some advice!” Her stomach did somersaults at that little bit of knowledge. “What kind of advice?”
“Never you mind. I keep your secrets, and I’ll
