Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Not that I’m going to confide any of that in him.
“I don’t really go out much in the evenings,” I answer with a tiny shrug. Even as I do, it strikes me as a good plan to have someone lined up as an emergency backup. I’ll be moving soon, fingers crossed, but there can be no harm in asking to meet the girl.
“Miss Eloise goes to the French school, right? Sophia’s high school is nearby. You know, if you ever need her to . . .”
“Help with the school run? Actually, that’s a really good idea.” Especially as I’d been offered a spot to run an early morning yoga class at the clinic last week. I wonder if I can tell them I’ve changed my mind.
“Ed,” he prompts. “And if you find you ever need her in the evenings, she could come in with me. And we live close by, so getting home is no problem.”
While I don’t think my conscience could cope with sending a teenager out into the streets of Manhattan at night, the idea of having someone else to rely on is becoming more and more appealing. “Maybe I could meet her?” I say as Lulu reaches the door. Finally!
“Sure. Anytime.” He beams widely back at me, which makes me wonder if I’m doing him a favour rather than the other way around.
“Come on then, mon petit chou.” Oops. I forgot I’m not supposed to call Lu that outdoors. It’s bad for a four-year-old’s street cred or something.
“One other thing, ma’am? We need to enter the apartment today for maintenance work.”
“Oh. Does Mr Hayes know?” My stomach flips as his name passes my lips.
“Er, yeah.” The man tugs on his ear, suddenly shifting from foot to foot. “We received his instruction this morning.”
I bite back the urge to ask if he knows where he called from, my mind returning to the weekend and the complete mess I’ve made of things.
“Ma’am?”
My frown retracts as I move on to the things I can control as I do a quick mental scan of how the place looks. No knickers left on the floor and no bras hooked around the backs of chairs. Or stuffed down the back of sofas. “That’s fine. Do you need the key?”
“No, ma’am.” Now he’s smiling at me as though I’ve said something cute. “It’s all taken care of. You have a good day now.”
“Bye, Ed!” Lulu skips out onto the sidewalk, and I grab her hand. “I thought we were in a hurry,” she asks, looking back at me. “You talk too much.”
Pushing aside the awkwardness of being lodger to a man you’ve shagged, I really will miss the convenience of living in Carson’s apartment when we move out. It’s just a ten-minute walk to Lulu’s school, and a few minutes more to reach the clinic. I can’t say how relieved I am not to have to deal with the subway every morning, or the train as the network seems to be referred to here. But I expect we’ll have to get used to it at some point, sadly.
“Morning, Fee.” Lizzie, the receptionist, or front desk executive as she prefers, shoots me a beaming smile as I bustle in through the clinic’s front door. “It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?”
“Gorgeous,” I agree, sliding my cardigan from one shoulder. It’s not terribly warm, but hurrying like a mofo can make a girl feel a little flushed. “Any news on my paperwork?”
“Sorry.” She gives an apologetic shrug. “I’ll chase them up again today.” Until my qualifications are accredited, I can’t sit in on any of the sessions, which is really what I’m here in New York for. I want to hone my counselling skills, learn more about client reactions to Compassion-Focussed Therapy, and even see if hypnotherapy is for me, not as a client, but maybe I could look into adding it to my skill set. But for now, I’m basically hanging around the office of this upscale (even for Manhattan) women’s wellness centre, which is mostly a weight management clinic. Not that I’m not enjoying myself. For starters, the team members are a little bit loopy. My kind of people.
“Oh. Do you think it would be okay if I left this on the reception desk?” I pull out a collection tin that Lulu brought home from school. “My daughter’s school is having a charity drive for the homeless.”
“I’m not sure.” She stares at the tin covered in Lulu’s artistry—the yellows, reds, and blues not at all in keeping with the clinic’s tastefully beige reception. “I’ll have to ask Ethan.”
“It’s meant to be filled with spare change from home, but as there’s only her and me at home, I thought popping it here might raise a little money.” I find myself shrugging, picking it up again. “If you don’t think he’ll want it on the desk, I suppose I can just take it into the office.”