Page 16 of The Surrender (Arlington Hall #2)

I felt like I’d done a whole day before I even got to the office this morning.

I went to the gym, picked up the cake stand, shot across town on the Tube to drop it off, shot back to sign the papers on my new rental, ready to collect the keys on Friday, and miraculously got into the office five minutes early.

The weight that left my shoulders when I hit send on the various reinvestment recommendations was indescribable.

So is the infinite sense of stupidity. And hurt.

His fucking fiancée? They were going to get married.

That sounds pretty fucking serious. And the fact they were still fucking?

What the hell does that even mean? They’re not over each other?

Jude can’t let go? He regrets ending it?

He’s jealous she’s married to someone else?

I growl under my breath and scratch my palm, the damn thing itching and driving me nuts. When my phone dings, I cautiously peek at the screen.

You’re avoiding me

I shrink over my desk. Yes, I’m avoiding her. Because now I have to tell them that I’m not, in fact, back with Jude. So, cowardly, I ignore Abbie’s message and call my mum instead.

“I’m still on a high!” she sings. “Oh, what a wonderful day it was. I want to do it all over again.”

I smile with effort as I flick through my emails, earmarking them in order of priority. “It was.”

“We haven’t seen you for a few days.”

“I’ve been a bit busy. I’ll call round after work, okay? I have a dinner meeting at seven thirty, so don’t cook for me.”

“Okay, darling. Have you signed the paperwork for your new apartment yet?”

“This morning. I get the keys Friday.”

“Lovely, I can’t wait to pop round and see it.”

“You’ll be sitting on the floor.” Jesus, that’s something else I need to do. Furniture. “I’ll see you after work.” I hang up and head for Sue’s office.

“Amelia.” She sets her pen down.

“Has Gary calmed down yet?” I ask, shutting the door.

She laughs. “He’s stable. What can I do for you?” She motions to the chair, and I lower to it.

“I wondered if there’s anything I need to know about Leo Lombardy. We have a dinner meeting this evening.”

“Oh, well, first of all, he’s super casual.”

“In attire or personality?”

“Both. You wouldn’t look at him and think he’s a multimillionaire, anyway.

He’s also casual with his money. To be honest, he’s got so much it’s neither here nor there to him if he loses some, so he’ll be happy with high risk.

Will probably push for it, actually, but keep your head on straight.

That’s why I put him your way, Amelia, and not Leighton’s.

Steers would undoubtedly take that as a green light to get silly.

You are not a maverick, and Lombardy does not need one. ”

I nod, understanding. “Thank you for the insight.” I stand. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“You’ll get on like a house on fire, I’m sure. He’s chilled, and you’re just the right amount of cautious that he needs.”

“Thanks, Sue.”

“And Amelia?”

I look back as I pull the door open.

“You’re doing everything right, okay?”

My heavy body lifts, and I nod, thankful for the pep talk when I’m uncertain about so much of my life.

“Thanks, Sue.” I leave and take a few breaths, but still when I hear Leighton in the distance.

I can’t promise I won’t launch him into outer space with my good hand if he spews any of his smarminess all over me, so I hotfoot it back to my office and grab my things, before exiting the office swiftly.

I walk through the front door and drop my bags, calling out a hello.

“Grand Girl!”

Poking my head around the lounge door, I find Grandma and Grandpa in their obligatory spots on either side of the fireplace. “Hey, you two.”

Grandma beckons me, so I perch on the arm of her armchair as she sets her knitting needles down. Her grey eyebrows lift. “How are you?”

Since I last saw her? Well, I got back together with the man who gave me fanny flutters, and we’ve split up again. Things are peachy. “I get the keys to my new place Friday.”

Grandma rolls her eyes. “Boring.”

“I’m fine, Grandma,” I assure her. You silly, silly girl. She wasn’t wrong. The best kind of love hurts the most. I don’t want to love him! “Have you spoken to Clark and Rachel?”

“Yes,” Grandpa chirps up, snapping his Financial Times shut. “Video call, Amelia. It was like I was in Greece with them!”

I laugh, looking back to the kitchen. It’s quiet. “Where’s Mum and Dad?”

“Having a discussion in the garden,” Grandma says, craning her head to look back too. “Your mother wants to do more shifts at the florist and your father would rather she didn’t.”

“Oh God,” I breathe, getting up and heading out the back, ready to split them up. I see them out the window on the patio, Mum with a gardening fork in her hand, Dad with a watering can and a scowl on his face. It looks like it’s getting heated, so I hurry to the back door.

“You’re not even retired!” Mum hisses. “You’ve been in the office every day this week!”

“Every day?” Dad laughs. “It’s Tuesday, for Christ’s sake.”

“And will you go in tomorrow?”

“I have to, Clark’s on his honeymoon.”

“You have three managers!”

“Hello,” I say, resting my shoulder on the doorframe. Mum slaps on a smile and whips off her gardening gloves, and Dad drops the watering can. “What’s all the noise about?”

“Nothing, darling.”

“What happened to your hand?” Dad asks, coming to me.

“It’s fine. I cut it and needed a few stitches.”

“How did you cut it?” He lifts it and checks the bandages. “You’re leaking. This needs changing. Jenn, Amelia’s dressing needs changing.” He looks at Mum, who glances between us. She’s a little red in the face. Exasperated.

“You do it,” she snaps. “I have dinner to cook.” Stomping past us, she throws him a filthy glare, and Dad recoils like she could have just slapped him.

“Jenn?” he murmurs.

“You’re in the doghouse,” I say, pointing out the obvious. The poor man looks so wounded. Yes, he’s old-fashioned to a fault, but he’s a good man. “Come on, help me change this thing. I have a dinner meeting. I can’t be bleeding all over the table.”

Dad sighs. “What do I need?”

“Some salty warm water.” I link arms with him and walk us through the patio doors to the dining room, avoiding Mum in the kitchen. “Actually, I’ll get the water. You wait.”

I grab my bag from the hall and go back to the kitchen, where I find Mum stirring the pot on the stove aggressively. I leave her be and get some water from the kettle and salt from the cupboard, then join Dad again, lowering and giving him my hand. “Get on with it.”

He peeks up through his lashes with only mild warning, and I smile, making him shake his head. “Your mother was always the first-aider when you were kids.” He peels away the dressing carefully with his big fingers as I sprinkle some salt into the water.

“I’m not a kid anymore.”

“No, you’re not, Amelia Gracie,” he muses. “You’re certainly not a kid.” He winces when he reveals the cut. “Jesus Lord above,” he gasps, horrified. “How the hell did you manage this?”

I grimace at my wound. It really does look angry. “I leant on a piece of glass.” I take some cotton wool from my makeup bag and dunk it. “It looks worse than it is. Here.”

Dad accepts and starts gingerly dabbing. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I smile fondly. What Dad doesn’t realise is the only time he hurts me is when he’s an unwitting misogynist. “You’re not hurting me.”

He grunts, brushing at the cut delicately. “I had my first golf lesson today.”

“But Mum said you were in the office today.”

“I finished early.”

I roll my eyes. That wasn’t the plan, but small steps, I suppose. “How was it?”

“Harder than I thought, but my instructor said I’ve got a solid swing.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Will he keep it up? Maybe stop going to the office every single day and actually embrace retirement?

He smiles up at me. “I did.”

“That’s great.”

“Tell me about your day.”

I nearly fall off my chair. “My day?” I murmur, my shock obvious.

“Yes, your day.”

He says it like it’s not really weird that after years of never asking, he’s suddenly hitting me with that question. “I’m assuming you mean work.”

He looks up tiredly. “Unless you want to talk about your most recent breakup, and I don’t mean with Nick.”

I wilt where I’m sitting. Dad doesn’t know just how recent my breakup is. And that it’s a whole shiny-new breakup. “I was seeing him. And now I’m not. The end.”

“Him. Who is him ?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over. And to be clear, Dad, that’s not a green light for you to start inviting Nick round for dinner again.”

He huffs. “I know, I’ve been warned.”

“By whom?”

“Your mother. Your grandmother.” He smirks up at me. “Don’t tell your mum, but I fancy her even more when she’s mad at me.”

I laugh out loud, and Dad winks. It’s so relaxed. So unlike Dad. And as if he’s suddenly realised, he snaps back into line. “Keep still,” he mutters.

“I didn’t move.”

“So your day?”

I don’t know what’s happened to change his lack of interest in my career, but I appreciate it. “I think I’m in the running to make partner, Dad.”

His head lifts so fast, I’m sure he’s probably going to suffer whiplash. “Partner? At LB&B?”

I nod. “I was invited out for casual drinks with the partners a couple of weeks ago.”

“Well.” He lets out a long, disbelieving breath. “That’s very impressive, darling. Well done.”

I might die of shock. What the hell is going on around here? “Thanks, Dad,” I say, not wanting to make a big deal of this. But it is. It’s huge. “You need to make peace with Mum.”

“I just don’t understand why she wants to go out to work, Amelia. Especially now.”

“She’s a social butterfly, Dad. Being in the shop, she’ll meet people, chat with them. And to Mum’s point, you’re hardly retired if you go to the office every day.”

“I’m just checking things are running smoothly.”

“Control freak,” I mutter quietly, making him gasp his disgust. I smirk. Dad scowls.

“So you’re dating, are you?”

My smile soon drops. “What?”

“Dating. Like on those app things people talk about.”

“I’m not on any dating apps.”

“But you’re dating?” he says, peeking up at me.

This is weird. “I’m not dating, Dad.” I pull my hand away when he’s stuck some tape over the new dressing.

“Then how did you meet the man who you’re no longer seeing?”

I am not telling him that. “I have to make a move, or I’ll be late for my meeting.” I stand and kiss Dad’s startled face. “Thanks for cleaning me up.” Tugging my bag off the table, I throw it onto my shoulder.

“Are you sure you don’t love him?”

I jolt where I’m standing, my mouth suddenly dry. “What?”

“Nick. Are you sure there’s nothing you can build on?”

“Oh my God.” I drop my head back. “Dad!”

“I’m just double-checking.”

“And I’m leaving,” I snap, marching away.

“He’s a safe bet, Amelia!”

“Stop worrying about my love life and fix your own.” I slam the door behind me and yell at the heavens.