Page 63 of Date Knight (Roll for Romance #2)

“Anil gave me the breakdown of everything he thought needed changing in order for Ethel to stay here,” she said, changing to a slide that listed everything Anil and I had discussed over the last week.

The new car, the widened doorways, changes to the garden, lowering part of the worktop in the kitchen to be wheelchair accessible…

it all seemed to be there. But I caught on the last item: “Accommodation for live-in care.”

“I haven’t decided on that last one,” I said, pointing.

“Anil told me,” Amy said. “And we’ll come to that. But for now, I’m leaving it on the list, okay?”

I had no idea what that meant, but I nodded anyway. “Sure.”

Over the next few minutes and a dozen or so slides, Amy broke down exactly how they all planned to help with Ethel’s care.

Alan and Jack would do all the adaptation and conversion work for free, bringing spare materials from the Kenchester job, which was starting later in the week, so I wouldn’t have to pay for new versions of everything.

Anything that did need to be bought, we could go through their suppliers to get the best price.

Patricia and Chloe would convert the garden.

As much as I was sure it broke the Rewilding Queen’s heart, they would pave over the patch of grass so it was even with the back door and therefore wheelchair accessible, and they’d put in raised beds and a small lean-to style greenhouse.

Then Patricia would bring by a selection of bulbs for them to plant together before the first frost.

Patricia would also be donating a second freezer, which she insisted on filling with brain-healthy meals once a week.

This would go in the kitchen, which would mean we would need to shuffle things around, but we needed to do that anyway to adapt it for Ethel’s wheelchair.

And since Fatima, Grey, and Morgan were currently taking inventory of everything in there and in my craft room to figure out better storage options, that shouldn’t be a problem.

Which brought us to care.

“I think you need to sell her Healey,” Amy said matter-of-factly. “You can’t just keep taking on more and more work without it becoming a full-time gig, and you know you’ll get at least a few months’ worth of care out of that thing.”

She wasn’t wrong– I’d filled out a valuation form online just a couple of days ago– but I shook my head anyway.

“I can pay for a relief carer out of what I make now.”

Amy sighed, exasperation peeking through. “Phil, please, I need you to be so fucking for real right now. You know you’re past needing just a relief carer.”

It was what Anil had been saying, too, but the thought of leaving Ethel with a stranger all day, every day? I couldn’t handle that.

“It’s okay, I thought you might say that,” Amy said when I told her as much. “So here’s where things get logistical.”

She flipped to a slide that said “Option 1”, which was a list of specifics for a live-in carer.

They’d need a private bedroom and bathroom, which meant I’d need to give up my craft room.

And whilst Alan and Jack would do the bathroom conversion work for free, the materials cost for splitting the existing bathroom in two would be extensive.

The carer would also need set hours, which would mean I would likely still need a relief carer if I wanted to do anything in the evenings or on weekends.

I’d always railed against that idea, and seeing everything it required should have solidified that for me.

But I couldn’t stop looking at the line that said: “Suggested hours: 7am-7pm 4 days per week.” I thought about being able to actually do the weekly shop in person, instead of settling for some teenager’s acceptable substitution for cultured butter.

I imagined going to work at a coffee shop instead of the dining table, and not having to interrupt it every few minutes to remind Ethel what day it was or that she’d already had lunch.

I thought about being able to come home and talk to her about her day without having been next to her for every single second of it.

Being able to enjoy her company again, in the way she deserved, for as long as she had.

“But I get that you’re not sold,” Amy said, “so I’ve got another option for you.”

The next slide said “Option 2” across the top.

It had a week-long calendar on it, each day divided into AM and PM.

And in every slot, there was someone’s name– Amy’s, Patricia’s, and even Chloe’s and Jack’s.

There was also the word “carer” in some of the slots, but fewer than I would have expected.

I counted the slots where I saw my own name; there were only four.

It was astounding to me that the Evanses and my friends– my family, really, all of them– were willing to wrap themselves around Ethel and me so tightly that I would have less of a care burden than if I had a live-in carer. I could hardly believe my eyes.

Except, was that true, that I couldn’t believe it? I could , actually, if I let myself think about it. The way they’d shown up for me time and time again, I should have been expecting this. Hell, maybe I had been expecting it, and that was why I’d shut myself off before they could insist on it.

“I couldn’t let you do this,” I said, my voice catching, but I choked back the emotion.

“You absolutely could,” Amy insisted, her voice firm; she’d clearly prepared for that response. “In fact, all of us– even Grey and Fatima– have signed up for a course Anil recommended for carers. We’re taking it the weekend after next, after the trip.”

The trip. The one to Manchester for the ball.

The one I wasn’t taking because I had to care for Ethel.

According to Amy’s little schedule, Chloe was doing Sunday mornings; would she not be able to take those kinds of trips anymore?

Or what about Patricia, who was down for Thursday nights AND Sunday afternoons?

Could she not go on holidays with her family to sail the Norwegian fjords because she needed to look after Ethel?

Could none of them go to the Ren Faire because of me?

No, this didn’t solve anything. As lovely a gesture as it was, and as tempting as I found it, if only for the knowledge that I wouldn’t lose these wonderful people, I couldn’t let them do it. It would be bringing them down with me, which was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid all this time.

“No way,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s really kind of you, but I can’t let you all do that. It’s too much.”

“It’s really not,” Chloe said from the doorway as she took off her shoes and followed Patricia into the room. “We wouldn’t have offered if we didn’t want to do it.”

“You’re family, Philip,” Patricia said, walking up beside me and squeezing my shoulders. “This is what family does.”

As the others filtered in– first Jack and Alan, then Fatima and Grey and Morgan, and finally Pablo, presumably having sniffed every inch of the house– they all offered some sort of confirmation that they wanted to be there.

Wanted to help. Even Pablo jumped up onto my lap and started licking my hand.

“When I moved home,” Jack said, “I was so useless, but you came and sat with me all the time whilst I built my house, even when I didn’t speak to you.”

“And when I had to leave home,” Chloe said, “you came in the middle of the night and moved me out, no questions asked.”

“You’ve fed us family dinner as much as I have over the years,” Patricia said, which was an egregious exaggeration, but she squeezed my hand in such a motherly way that I was incapable of arguing.

“When Jared and I broke up,” Fatima said, “you sent me a meme every day for a month. Always at the same time, as if you’d set a reminder to check in on me. That was how important it was to you.”

Grey cleared their throat. “Then there’s all the brownies, cookies, lemon bars, and birthday cakes, and not to mention the costumes you’ve insisted on making for us all, even though we know you’ve been burning yourself out to finish them.”

Everyone looked at Alan, who shrugged. “You take amazing care of Ethel,” he said. “And for every good thing you’ve done, she’s done ten over the course of her life. We owe her a great debt of friendship, which means we owe you that debt too. Because you’ve kept her here with us.”

I wouldn’t have thought Alan Evans could make me cry– at least not from being nice– but his words were ultimately what sent the tears streaming down my face. I gripped Patricia’s hand tighter as I sniffed, trying to stop them from coming. But I couldn’t.

Which was unfortunate, because I had something to say.

“You’re all so lovely,” I managed, “and I understand why you want to do this. But I can’t let you. I’ve been doing it for long enough to know how thankless it is.”

“We don’t need your thanks,” Patricia said. “We just need you to let us help. We love her too, Philip.”

“You can help,” I said, nodding. “I promise, I’ll let you do all the rest of this. I graciously accept your offers to make us food and renovate our bathroom. But not this. I can’t let you do this.” I pointed at the care schedule on the screen.

I looked up at Amy, whose face was set in anger as she stared down at her hands.

She’d worked so hard on this; I could tell.

If her presentation to her dad had been anywhere near as well thought out and earnest as this, I was almost certainly looking at the new full-time Operations Manager at Evans Contractors.

But now I was telling her no, despite all that hard work. And she looked angry.

“You selfish, scared idiot,” she muttered. “You know none of that other stuff will make a difference if you don’t let someone share the load with you.”

Alan put a hand on her shoulder and shushed her, but I wished he wouldn’t. She had every right to say that to me after the way I’d treated her. And I was scared. I spent every moment of every day terrified that I was screwing things up.