Page 75 of All the Forbidden Things

She shrugs and rolls her eyes. “Okay, the worstlong-termpart of what happened. I only met Layla two days ago, and I’m already besotted with her. I was with those kids for two years. I loved them.”

Her eyes are now brimming with unshed tears, and I really, really, want to go to her.

“You’re so good with her,” I tell her honestly.

She gives a small smile and plays with the tassels on the cushion.

“Do you want kids of your own one day?”

“Of course. Lots of them. My parents were older, so I wasn’t really planned.” She shrugs and smiles. “More of a surprise than unplanned, I suppose. But I always wanted more brothers and sisters, then they were killed, and I got Makenzie, or she got me, however you wanna look at it.”

We’re both quiet for a moment, before Billie breaks the silence. “Aren’t we a bucket of chuckles tonight.”

We smile at each other, and it’s there again, that arc of sensation passing between us while we just stare. I lose the battle to remain in my chair and am about to stand when she jumps up, stretches then flinches, her hand moving to her ribs.

“Right, I’m exhausted. What time do you need me in the morning?”

I want to ask her not to go. Ask her if she’ll stay. But I don’t.

“Are they still hurting you, your ribs?”

“Only when I stretch or overreach. The rest of the time they don’t really bother me.” She holds up her hand that’s in the cast. “That reminds me, I have a hospital appointment next week, Tuesday I think it is. I’ll need the morning off for it.”

“Not a problem. I think I’ll be able to cope for just one morning.”

I wink as I speak, letting her know I’m joking, then I watch as her mouth opens and closes a few times before she says, “So, yeah, anyway. Tomorrow, what time?”

“Whenever you’re ready. I’ll just need a bit of time over in the studio at some stage. I’ve got something new I’m working on and want it sounding good enough to let the boys have a listen when we go down to Jay’s for Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving?” she questions.

“Yeah, you okay with that? We usually stay four or five days, a week sometimes. You good with that?”

“I’m invited?”

“Of course. Even if you weren’t working for me, you’d be invited just because you’re you. You’ve been before, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know, I just wasn’t sure if you’d want me there . . .” She trails off, and I’m confused by her tone.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, I just wasn’t sure if your mum would be going, or”—she shrugs— “your wife.”

“Whit? Fuck no. Fuck that. Me and Whit are done. I’m seriously thinking about renting her a place while she recovers. I’ve no clue what I was thinking, inviting her to come and stay here.”

Her eyes dance over my face, as I stare right back, trying to get a lock on what the frown she’s wearing means, but it passes and is replaced with a small smile.

“Okay, well, yeah then. I love it at their place.” She clasps her hands together in front of her. “I’m excited. I’d love to own a property like that one day.”

“In the country? I’ve always had you pegged as a city or a beach girl.”

“Nah, not the city. I’ve spent most of my life in different cities. The beach or the countryside is where I eventually want to live. I’d really like a place where I could have horses, like the ranch my aunt has in California. Horses, chickens, goats, maybe a couple of llamas or alpacas. It would be nice if it were by the beach, too, so I could surf.”

“You surf?”

“Yeah. My dad has family in Australia. The first time I went out on a board was there. I was seven. It was right before we went to Bali.” She shrugs again.

Bali is where her parents were killed.