Page 42 of A Very Happy Easter

He put his plate and mug into the dishwasher, then gave me a side hug. The side hug turned into a proper hug, and I buried my face against his shoulder.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Well, you’re fucking stuck with me now.”

Eleven

In December, Heath and I had our first clash. Not of personalities, thank goodness, but of dates. Every year, my parents threw two parties—one for our staff, and one for family and friends. For the staff party, they hired a local hotel or restaurant so everyone who worked for us could take the night off, and a few days later, the big family celebration was held at my parents’ home in Chelsea. Neither was an event I could miss, and this year, the family party took place on the same Friday night as the Blackwood Security Christmas get-together.

Selflessly, Heath said he’d skip it and come to my parents’ shindig, but I hated that idea. I mean, I didn’t even want to go. Yes, I’d see my brother, and there were at least a handful of other relatives I liked, but the evening would be an exercise in endurance rather than fun.

“Go to your work party,” I said when he called about the predicament.

“And abandon you to your cousins? I’m too much of a gentleman for that. Besides, I need to catch up with Dennis about the racehorse. The trainer says she’s fast.”

“I’ll be fine. Salma and her girlfriend are coming, and I’m planning to sneak off after dessert.”

“So why don’t we both go to your party, trough down dessert, and then sneak off to the Blackwood bash?”

“What, you want me to come with you?”

“No pressure. It’ll be pretty relaxed. A buffet, ice skating, laser shooting, live music.”

“Where is it?”

“At the bosses’ house in Belgravia.”

“Must be a big house.”

“It is. The guy who owns it was a billionaire before he started Blackwood. Then he married the woman who heads up Blackwood’s special forces arm.”

“Wait, a woman?”

“Yeah, she’s nuts. But good nuts.”

“Yikes.”

“So, how about it? You and me, a sit-down dinner and then ice skating?”

“Are you trying to make me puke again?”

“No, just get indigestion.”

Oh, sod it. “I’ll go. But I’m not drinking a drop of alcohol.”

At least I’d have a genuine excuse to leave my parents’ party, and I hadn’t been ice skating for years. I hadn’t done much of anything for years, and I so badly wanted to change that.

“Then I’ll line up the mocktails.”

“Look at that arse. I’m a lesbian, and even I can appreciate those glutes,” Salma whispered.

“How much have you had to drink?”

She glanced around at all the stuffy rich people and rolled her eyes. “Not enough.”

“Salma!”

“It’s true,” Robyn said. “Really, it’s a great backside. Two lesbians can’t be wrong.”