Page 58 of Love or Your Money Back

CHAPTER

I wake to a grey, autumn sky and the sounds of a tap running and glasses clinking. I can hear Ahmet snoring too, which means Freddy must be the one pottering around the living area. Inexplicably, that thought makes me smile.

I put on a dressing gown and head out of my bedroom, hair all over the place. Weirdly, there’s crumpled bedding on one of the living-area sofas. Freddy washes glasses in the kitchen sink.

‘Did you go out last night, Freddy Stark?’ I ask.

‘What?’ Freddy turns. ‘No.’

‘So why is there bedding on the sofa?’ I nod at the blanket and pillow. ‘Were you too drunk to find your bedroom?’

‘I didn’t drink alcohol at all last night.’ Freddy sounds offended. ‘It wouldn’t have been responsible. What if you’d relapsed and needed someone to take you to a doctor?’

‘That’s not something you need to worry about.’ I smile, noticing breakfast croissants, fruit plates, nuts and orange juice on the dining table, plus a little dish of vitamins. ‘I’ve been dragging myself to doctors’ offices on dodgy legs for a very long time. Why didn’t you sleep in your bedroom?’

‘I wanted to be between you and the door.’

‘The locked hotel room door? On the seventh floor?’

‘Not that door. Ahmet’s door. I didn’t want Ahmet roaming around late at night, taking liberties –’

‘He’s my fiancé.’

‘You’re still an exclusive product.’

‘Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that. At what point do I stop being an exclusive product and sleep with Ahmet? Surely now I’m engaged it’s okay?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Freddy stiffens. ‘You should wait until your wedding night.’

‘My wedding night? It’s the 21st century –’

‘Maybe even after

the wedding night,’ Freddy muses. ‘Weddings can be tiring. Would you like some breakfast, darling?’

‘Yes. Always.’ I nod at the table. ‘Did you do this?’

‘Yeah.’ Freddy reaches for coffee cups. ‘Well, I ordered it. And put out the vitamins.’

‘ And

you’re doing the washing up?’ I shake my head. ‘Freddy Stark, who knew you were so domesticated?’

‘I cooked for me and my dad for years,’ says Freddy. ‘I’m probably more domesticated than you are. Eat your breakfast.’

‘Actually, is there time?’ I check my watch. ‘We need to set the stand-up.’

‘Already taken care of,’ says Freddy. ‘Your team are at the book fair as we speak, laying out books and fliers.’

‘They can’t be.’ I blink at him. ‘They didn’t land until 8 pm last night. They’re not early risers after a night of travel –’

‘Responsible employees don’t have lie-ins before major conferences,’ says Freddy. ‘This is a side-effect of effective delegating, Kat. Now your team have responsibilities, they are taking the initiative.’

‘I have you to thank for this.’ I take a seat at the table.

‘If you hadn’t strode into my life in your hand-stitched Italian leather shoes, I would still be proofreading, scheduling everyone’s appointments and taking out the rubbish.

’ I look at Freddy. ‘Are you okay? You look … I don’t know. Choked up.’

‘I’m fine.’ Freddy takes a giant gulp of orange juice. ‘And by the way, you’re in the wrong seat. The fruit plate and nuts are for you. The croissant is not. Wheat isn’t good for MS.’

‘Nothing is good for MS –’

‘You have to be hyper-vigilant today,’ says Freddy. ‘Big events are breeding grounds for coughs and colds. If you get a temperature, you could relapse. So keep your immune system up by eating the right foods.’

‘Oh, fine.’ I pull over fresh fruit and nuts. ‘I’m feeling okay. Well, physically okay anyway. I’m nervous about the meeting with Penguin Random House, but not that nervous. I mean, I doubt anything will come of it.’

Freddy rolls his eyes. ‘Optimistic as always. What about the award ceremony tonight?’

‘What about it?’

‘Do you feel stressed? Nervous?’

‘Not at all.’ I throw a handful of nuts into my mouth. ‘I know exactly what will happen. We’ll win Diverse Publisher of the Year. Again. And we won’t win Small Press of the Year, but it’s still nice to be nominated.’

‘Why won’t you win?’ Freddy demands. ‘Your profits are through the roof –’

‘That’s not how publishing works. It’s a slow and steady industry. No one ever wins an award the first year they’re nominated. Everyone takes turns. If we’re nominated next year, we’re in with a chance. And three years running, we’ll be a shoe in.’

‘Fair enough.’ Freddy reaches for a croissant. ‘Kat, listen. There’s something I want to talk to you about. I don’t know if we’ll get a chance at the fair, so I’ll just tell you now –’

Ahmet’s gentle snoring drifts from the third bedroom.

Freddy frowns at his croissant. ‘Actually, it can wait.’