Bittersweet by Jacquie Underdown

Author:Jacquie Underdown [Underdown, Jacquie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises (Australia) Pty Ltd.
Published: 2018-01-19T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Saturday morning, Amy cleaned the house from top to bottom. She changed the sheets on the spare bed, though when she came to change Mitch and Rachel’s linen, she left it alone. It wasn’t her decision to make. Mitch could choose that for himself when he arrived home.

In fact, she changed nothing in that bedroom. Left everything as it was when Rachel had last slept there: her hand lotions on the bathroom cabinet. Her toothbrush in the holder. A bra hung over the towel rail.

She went to the nursery and stocked it with nappies, wipes, soap and moisturiser. Tiny singlets and jumpsuits were in arm’s reach from the change table too. She rewashed the sheets in Lux flakes and made up the bassinet for Sophie, then placed it in Mitch’s room. She assumed he’d want her close at night.

A cheerful mobile, still in the box, was in the cupboard. She assembled it and placed it above the cot. She plugged in a little lamp Rachel had already bought and made sure the bulb worked.

The pictures on the walls were straightened. The rug on the floor vacuumed. The cushions on the rocking chair fluffed. Blinds dusted. Baby towels were washed and folded in the cupboards.

Stepping back, Amy glanced over the room, breathed in the baby powder scent and was filled with a warm burst of maternal emotion. Little Sophie was coming home tomorrow.

A blessing amidst all this turmoil.

And all the while, Amy ignored the pink elephant in every room of the house that was shouting that Rachel never would come home.

She headed into town then. Mitch wouldn’t want to be cooking, not with little Sophie taking up all his time. Amy was determined to bite down on her irrational reluctance to cook and make him some meals to freeze. So she bought meats and vegetables and pasta using the dwindling funds on her credit card.

Amy turned upbeat music on, wrapped her waist in her favourite clean apron, the one Tom had bought her, and got to it. She had boeuf bourguignon stewing on the stovetop, lasagne baking in the oven, and chicken and vegetable soup simmering away by the time Tom dropped in at noon.

He strode into the kitchen, eyes wide, lips parted. ‘Am I in the right house?’ he asked, peering into the oven and looking under lids on the stove. He spun to face her and narrowed his eyes. ‘Who are you and what have you done with Amy?’

The first thing she felt was relief—she hadn’t known if things were going to be awkward between them now that they had slept together, but especially after she had told him they couldn’t do that again.

She smiled and shrugged. ‘I had no excuses left. I can’t have Mitch come home to an empty fridge because I’m neurotic.’

He grinned, and Amy’s heart skipped a beat. Sleeping with Tom was … incredible. No matter how much she tried to tell herself otherwise, she couldn’t deny that. The intense sparks between them went to levels she never knew existed once his mouth fell upon hers.

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