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‘Wren?’
I snapped back into focus. ‘Yes?’
‘Tell me what’s wrong.’
God, why did that occasional gentleness from Jasper erode every ounce of my resistance? Why did I want to bask in it, roll around in it until I was covered head to toe in warmth?
Because you’ve never experienced a bona fide version of it. Surplus recycled affection has never been enough for you. Never will be.
But was it wise to accept it from Jasper? Was fate really that twisted as to show me a glimpse of what affection looked like from the very last person I could accept it from? Of course, it was. Because wasn’t karma that cruel? I inhaled a settling breath, but he spoke again before I could will common sense into our interaction.
‘Before you tell me it’s none of my business, know that I’ve been in your shoes,’ he said, again in that calm, even voice. ‘More or less.’
Curiosity swallowed me whole. ‘How?’
His laugh was a little sharp. A little edgy. ‘What’s worse than a parent who tells you how to live your life?’
I frowned at the puzzle. ‘I’m...not sure how to answer that.’
‘Try parents who don’t care at all.’
My heart squeezed, this time for the hardened bite of pain he didn’t hide. ‘I... I’m...’ For whatever reason, thesorrystuck in my throat. Probably because, freshly bruised from my run-in with my mother, a part of me felt as if it was a betrayal to my family. Or maybe I didn’t want even a sliver of softer feelings to slither through my cracks in case the floodgates tore wide open? Either way, bewilderment kept me silent.
‘It’s cool, Wren. Loyalty is a big deal to me, too, even when the people we’re loyal to don’t deserve it,’ he murmured and, absurdly, tears prickled my eyes.
Jesus, I was pathetic. Determined to wrestle my feelings under control, I cleared my throat. ‘Well. This has been fun and all, but I really need to get back to work.’
Expecting him to convince me otherwise, or at the very least remind me I was beholden to him via our contract, I was a little stunned when he said, ‘Okay. Bye, Wren.’
Disappointment seared deep as I ended the call and set the phone down. Then spent an absurd amount of time analysing our conversation. What had his parents done to him? As far as I knew, Jasper’s parents lived overseas. According to the grapevine, they hardly involved themselves in Mortimer businesses any more. Had their reclusiveness extended to their own children? Did I have more in common with Jasper than I wanted to?
Realising I was spending way more time dwelling on Jasper’s phone call than I had my mother’s visit, I fought to put both out of my mind. Until a knock on my door revealed yet another surprise, this time a smiling Alana holding a white takeaway box bearing a well-known exclusive Greek restaurant logo.
‘This just arrived for you. It smells amazing,’ she said, placing the box on my desk before departing.
The giddiness in my heart bloomed as I reached for the note taped to the side of the box. Opening it, I read the bold scrawl.
They may take your good mood, but never let them take your appetite.
Jasper
The note was so absurd I burst out laughing. On wild impulse, I grabbed my phone and sent a two-word message.
Thank you.
The speech bubble started immediately. Breath held, I waited for his reply.
My pleasure. Oh, and just for clarity, not answering my earlier texts doesn’t mean it didn’t count as work. I make that sixty-five minutes so far. Call me when you’re ready to make up some more time.
I knew I should resist, that I was straying far too close to liking our skirmish-banter-tiny-moments-of-emotional-synchronicity, but I couldn’t help reaching for my phone again as I opened the box and groaned at the heavenly smelling moussaka, feta cheese salad and tiny bites of grilled lamb. Helping myself to small portions of each dish, I went through his earlier texts, answering each query between bites.
He didn’t answer until the last text and email was sent and I was stuffed to the gills after a final sinful bite of baklava.
Mood improved?
Eyeing the half-empty boxes, I smiled and answered.
Much. Thank you.