Page 62 of Date Knight (Roll for Romance #2)

Phil

I t took Anil and me nearly a week to take full inventory of what Ethel would need changed.

We looked at everything in the house from the flooring to the clocks, and we mapped out what her next couple of years might look like in the best and worst cases so we could figure out if there were any major changes we needed to make.

I’d had to start parking my car in the street so we could get the wheelchair past the cars, and I knew the Healey was likely not long for this world.

No matter how we sliced it, it was going to be expensive, and it was going to be a lot of change all at once.

And as much as that change worried me for Ethel, I was worried for me, too; the more switch-ups I needed to manage, the more likely I was to mess something up.

And given that I’d been treading water for months now, I knew I wasn’t operating at top form.

Anil seemed oddly optimistic, but I just chalked that up to professional encouragement.

It was Wednesday afternoon, and Ethel was out with Anil for her appointments. The plan was that then they’d come back for dinner, and he and I would figure out what to tackle first. But that all hinged on me doing what I needed to do on my own.

I’d avoided tapping into Ethel’s money for so long, but I also knew from the last week of discussions that I was going to need more than what I had left in my trust. This was more than a new boiler or a car service, and as much as I hated it, I’d need to start taking Ethel’s available funds into account.

I’d resisted the idea in my conversations with Anil, but he’d helped me realise that, in my desperation to care for Ethel without taking from her, I was quite possibly holding her back from getting the best care she could have, and for what?

So that one day, when she was gone, I could point to a pile of money and feel good about not having spent it?

No, Anil was right. It was her money, so it should be spent on her.

I settled myself at the table with my fourth cup of tea of the day and my laptop, determined to get the lay of the land before Anil and Ethel got home later.

So I took in a deep breath and entered the login information I’d dug out, bracing myself for whatever it showed.

I reminded myself that, even if she didn’t have much, we had options.

Once the account loaded and I saw the balance, my entire body ran cold. How had I let myself go this long without checking?

Before I could sink into a proper spiral, the doorbell rang.

“Coming!” I yelled as I stood up, not even bothering to peek through the now permanently drawn curtains, figuring it was the postie with the new clock I’d ordered.

So when I opened the door and saw Amy standing there, after how many times I’d imagined her showing up, I thought maybe I’d conjured her somehow.

Except, it wasn’t just Amy. She was flanked by Jack and Patricia, with Chloe, Morgan, Grey, and Fatima behind them.

Alan was even there, looking like he was wondering how he’d gotten roped into whatever was going on, and Pablo, who sat obediently at Morgan’s feet on the pavement.

They all held clipboards and notebooks in their hands, except Pablo of course.

My mouth fell open in surprise, and I just stood there staring for a good few seconds, until I felt my phone buzz in my pocket.

“Sorry, just a sec,” I said, pulling it out to see a text from Anil.

ANIL

You can be mad at me later, but please let them in.

I looked from the text back up to Amy, who was smiling sheepishly at me.

“Can we come in?” she asked. “We come in peace.”

I knew what this was. It was an intervention, because I’d been ignoring all of them.

And honestly, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to be sat down and told how much they all cared about me.

I knew they did, but that didn’t change what was happening.

And given that Anil and I were finally making a plan, why did he choose now of all times to arrange this?

Couldn’t he have waited until I had something helpful to share with them?

Or at least until he was here to face what he was subjecting me to?

But Amy was here. And as much as I didn’t want an intervention, god I missed her.

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to reach out, pull her into me, and slam the door in the rest of their faces so I could show her just how much I missed her.

But being the paragon of restraint apparently, I just pressed my mouth into a line and nodded.

Clearly taking that as an invitation, Pablo stepped forward and trotted into the house and started sniffing around. We all watched him, and I was pretty sure it was Chloe who started laughing first, but pretty soon it was everyone cackling at the dog.

Everyone except Amy, who just watched me closely.

“Guess I’d better put the kettle on,” I said, and it was like I’d raised the gates at a horse race.

Everyone but Amy pushed past me into the house.

Patricia and Chloe went straight through the hall to the back garden, Pablo trotting after them, whilst everyone else took their shoes off.

Jack and Alan went towards the bedrooms, and Fatima into the kitchen, whilst Grey and Morgan pushed open the door to my craft room.

My eyes widened in a panic as I remembered what was on the dress form, but I saw Morgan notice it too, and she turned back and winked at me, so I knew she’d get rid of it before Amy saw it.

I’d kept working on Amy’s dress. Of course I had.

In a week of adaptation plans and care option evaluations and chaos, it had been the only thing that made me feel like myself.

Would I have preferred Amy herself be there?

Of course. I’d taken out my phone to text her too many times to count, especially when I was tired and broken and spent.

Even just being near her had always made me feel better– like she was a campfire, and I just needed a little bit of warmth.

But I’d had to channel that longing into something more productive.

Something that didn’t involve dragging her down with me.

Because even at my least certain, when I doubted whether I was doing the right thing, I knew she deserved more than the version of me I had to be in order to get by.

So I’d stitched and embroidered every night until my fingers were sore and I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and that had to be enough.

Except now she was here, in my house. Or, well, outside it– she was the only one who hadn’t come in after Pablo. I could see now that she had a backpack slung over one shoulder.

“May I?” she asked, and I stepped aside, waving her in.

Be cool , I told myself. Don’t act like a starving man seeing a roast dinner.

And by some miracle, I kept my shit together as I followed her into the lounge.

She went straight for the TV, setting her backpack on the floor and producing a computer and an adapter cable, which she connected together before plugging the other end of the cable into the back of the TV.

“What’s this?” I asked as Fatima came in with cups of tea. I thought about pointing out that I already had one, but despite it being my home I got the sense I needed to just come along for the ride, so I just accepted it gratefully.

Morgan and Grey came into the lounge, too, Morgan throwing me a subtle thumbs-up. Fatima stopped them in the doorway, having a quick, hushed conversation before taking the clipboards off them and following them back down the hallway.

“What is this?” I asked Amy when we were alone again.

I sat down in Ethel’s armchair facing the TV, whilst Amy perched on the edge of the sofa closest to it, holding her laptop.

If this was an intervention, why was everyone scattered around the house?

Were they looking for a secret stash of drugs or something?

I heard the distinct sound of a measuring tape withdrawing into its case. What the hell?

“Listen,” Amy said, sitting up straight, all business. “I’m sorry to have sprung this on you like this, but you weren’t answering anyone’s calls. Mum even tried to come by yesterday, but you weren’t in.”

I nodded. I tried to reach for something cavalier to say, but the last week had drained me, and I didn’t have any bravado left. Especially not for Amy. “Sorry, it’s been a bit mad.”

“I’ve heard,” Amy said, and I remembered Anil’s message. I may not have been answering their calls, but clearly someone had been.

“Now listen,” she continued. “We’ve been working on something, and I need you to promise me you’ll hear me out.”

I nodded– what choice did I have, really? And honestly, I missed her so much that I knew I would listen even if she pulled up a PowerPoint comparing me to actual war criminals. I probably deserved it.

But when she pressed a button on her laptop, the screen was suddenly filled with the words “Ethel Owen Home Care Plan.”

“Shit, Amy, what did you do?”

“All of us,” she said. “ We did this. Not just me. I’ll be honest, it would have probably been better– easier for me at least, in the long run– to just let you cut yourself off. But…”

She swallowed hard, and I knew I had so much hanging on whatever she said next.

“But you have a lot of people that care about you, Phil. And Ethel, too. And we can’t sit aside and let you isolate yourself. I can’t sit aside whilst you do that.”

I could feel tears pricking at my eyes already, and she hadn’t even started her presentation. But when I made eye contact with her, she didn’t mirror my emotion back at me. She was shutting herself off from me, the way I had from her. And that was okay, really. Good for her. I could take it.