Meet Me at Willoughby Close by Kate Hewitt

Meet Me at Willoughby Close by Kate Hewitt

Author:Kate Hewitt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tule Publishing
Published: 2017-01-30T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Thirteen

Ellie woke with a pounding headache and a horrible taste in her mouth. She blinked in the bright, wintry sunlight coming through the sashed windows and listened to the rumble of a truck going down the street outside. For a few blissful seconds she’d forgotten everything that had happened last night, but it all came rushing back quickly enough, filling in the blanks, making her wince and cringe.

She’d got drunk. Properly drunk, nearly falling down drunk, something she couldn’t remember ever doing, not even as an irresponsible teenager on a wild night out—not that there had been many, or any, of those. In fact, there had been zero. What had she been thinking?

The trouble was, she hadn’t been. At all. She’d just been feeling... nervous, and then excited with Oliver, and then nervous again as well as insecure when he’d left her alone. Too much emotion and stimulation without enough food in her stomach.

Ellie rolled over in bed, squeezing her eyes shut as she brought her knees up to her chest. What on earth did he think of her now? And what about Abby?

Quickly she leaned over, her stomach lurching with the sudden movement, to look for her bag that held her phone. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a text from her daughter: I’m fine, Mum. Really. And so is Marmite. x

Good heavens, she hadn’t even thought of poor Marmite last evening. What if Abby had forgotten? Her poor dog would have been in desperate need of a wee, and probably would have torn up all the paper towel and loo roll in the house. Actually, he’d probably done that anyway.

It was only a little after eight and hopefully Abby was still asleep, so Ellie didn’t call. She texted back instead: Sorry, sorry, sorry. Love you and see you soon. Xxxx

With a groan she tossed the phone aside and braced herself to face the day. She needed to apologize to Oliver, and then hightail it back to Willoughby Close so she could check on Abby and restore her equilibrium. She felt way too unsettled, with memories of last night clinging to her like mist.

She didn’t feel comfortable wearing Lady Stokeley’s slinky red dress at eight in the morning, so after sneaking into the shower and giving her teeth a very good brush, Ellie put on the t-shirt and trackie bottoms that Oliver had given her last night. They were obviously his, worn to a velvety softness, and smelled like fabric softener. Stupidly, Ellie held the shirt to her face before putting it on, as if she’d catch some scent his aftershave or just him. The only lingering odor under the fabric softener smell was her perfume and a tangy hint of the salt and vinegar crisps she’d eaten last night.

She twisted her damp hair into a knot and then, squaring her shoulders, headed into the living area. Oliver was in the kitchen, looking as casual as Ellie had ever seen him, as well as rather sexy, in a pair of faded jeans and an Oxford University t-shirt.



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