My previous thoughts don’t last long, because two seconds after closing the front door, he’s all I can think about. My concern for not having anywhere to live is long forgotten and replaced by my memories of tonight, of how gentle he was, how amazing it felt to be in his arms.

“Holy shit,” I exclaim when I see myself in the mirror above the basin. I look like a hot mess. My mascara is all smudged under my eyes from where I was crying, and my hair is all over the place. My nice smooth curls are long gone, thanks to the sea breeze and misty air. Fuck knows why he was looking at me the way he was when I look like this.

I make quick work of removing my remaining makeup and attempt to tame my hair, but nothing short of a shower and half a tub of conditioner is going to touch it. I pull my pyjamas on before making up the sofabed.

I’m still tossing and turning with images of dark blue eyes and full lips on repeat when I hear the front door open. I hear Aunt Addy poke her head in but when she sees I’m asleep—or pretending to be—she tiptoes off to her room. I’ve no idea what the time is, but I’m not really in the mood for talking right now.

* * *

I’m up and in the shower bright and early the next morning. I’m not stupid, I know it’s my excitement about Blake being here that has me up and on edge way before the sun rises.

I spend and an obscene amount of time curling my long dark hair into loose waves and getting my face perfect. I feel like I need to make up for the mess I looked last night. I pull on a short tartan skirt over a pair of thick black tights and finish it off with a fitted cream V-neck jumper that shows off just a hint of cleavage.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Aunt Addy sings when she eventually appears, looking a little sleepy.

“Morning! Coffee?” I ask from where I’m stood pulling more cakes from the oven.

“Do you even need to ask?” she says with a laugh as I get up. “Whoa, you look nice. Do you have something planned for today?”

I suddenly feel stupid for having spent so long perfecting how I look. It’s wrong; I shouldn’t be this attracted to Blake, and I definitely shouldn’t be making this much of an effort. Moving here was meant to be for me, not so I could fall for the first man I see.

I’m too busy giving myself a talking to to hear his van pull up and the door behind me open.

“Mornin’, ladies,” a deep voice says from behind me, making my heart jump into my throat. I feel tingles run up my spine. Putting the cake down, I turn around and find exactly what I was expecting—Blake’s eyes leisurely running down my legs.

“Morning, Blake. Addison’s just putting the kettle on. You want one before you turn our power off?” she says, momentarily distracting him from me

“Please,” he confirms as his eyes come back to me.

“Are you okay to hang on ten minutes, Blake? I just need a quick shower.”

“Of course. I moved a few things around so I’ve got all day here. Thought I could have a look at that fence you mentioned.”

Aunt Addy quickly spins on her heels and rushes towards the bathroom. Blake watches her go and I look away as I try to muster up the brain power to not come across as affected by him as I really am.

I know the second his eyes come back to me. I feel it. I take a small step back until my bum hits the counter, and put my palms on the side. Something tells me I’m going to need it to help support me when I look up. I take a deep breath before raising my eyes. They immediately connect with his. Blake’s eyes a dark and glittering under the spotlights above us. The corners of his lips twitch up in a smile before his eyes drop again to run down my body.

Holy shit, his stare ignits me. I squeeze the counter as I feel warmth rush between my legs. His whispered words from last night come back to me, telling me I was beautiful. I try to keep my breathing in check but I don’t know if I’m successful, because this man somehow has the power to make reality disappear.

He steps closer to me and his fresh just-from-the-shower scent along with his unique smell fills my senses. I have no idea what he’s about to do but he’s close enough that it could be anything. My breathing increases as I fight between how badly I want him to do something verses how he really shouldn’t be doing anything, especially in Aunt Addy’s kitchen.

He leans in so close to me that I feel the scratch of his beard against my cheek. I’m pretty confident I contain the moan but I can’t be totally sure. I close my eyes and will my body under control. I’m just being stupid; no man has been this kind and thoughtful to me for years—plus, he’s incredibly hot, but this isn’t what this is about. He doesn’t want me. He’s a widowed single parent; there’s no way he has time for anything else in his life. I’m just lonely, and let’s face it: it’s been a long time since I saw any action worth taking note of. I’m just desperate.

His chest presses lightly against my breasts, his hardness to my softness, and I’m pretty sure that moan I was trying to keep locked down bubbles up as he brushes my nipples.

And then he’s gone.

I blink a couple of times as I try to bring myself back to earth and when I look over, I see him pouring boiling water into three mugs—three mugs that live in the cupboard behind my head.

“Shit.”

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me with a smirk on his face. He looks into my eyes for a second before I see them drop. When I follow suit and look down, it’s obvious what he’s staring at. It’s like my nipples are trying to break through my jumper to get to him.

“White, one sugar,” I mutter before running from the room. I don’t miss the deep chuckle that sends lightning bolts around my body. Damn him and his sexy deep eyes, scruffyjaw, and full lips.

I sit myself down on the edge of the sofa while I stare ahead, although I don’t see what’s in front of me. The image in my head is of Blake stood in the kitchen in those tight ripped jeans, and a t-shirt like looks like it’s been painted on, it’s so bloody tight.

I shake my head. This isn’t fucking helping.

I don’t re-emerge into the kitchen until I hear Aunt Addy’s voice. “You’re good to go,” she announces.

Blake’s heading towards the door to the garage when I appear. He must have heard me, because at the last minute, he looks back at me. He smiles, and my body melts. I’m still stood there lost to how he makes me feel long after he’s gone. It’s not until Aunt Addy starts calling me that I’m even aware that I’m still stood here.

“You know, sweetheart, you could do a lot worse than Blake McCarthy.”

“Uh…what?” I stutter as I pull out a chair and grab hold of the mug in front of me.

“You and Blake, you’d make a wonderful couple.”

“What…no,” I say like it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. “He’s your…” I don’t finish my thought because he’s not her anything, really. He’s her granddaughter’s dad; that’s it.

“He’s my nothing, sweetheart,” she says, grabbing my hand. “He’s a wonderful man, an incredible dad, and he made my Kayleigh very happy. But that’s over now, and more than anything, I want Blake to be happy again. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him smile like he did a few minutes ago.”

I don’t respond—I can’t. I have no idea what I should say to all that. Instead, I think about my plans for the day. “Any preference as to what I should decorate those with?” I ask, gesturing to the cakes cooling on the counter.

“Whatever you like, sweetheart. They’ll look stunning,” she says, standing up and putting her mug in the sink. “I’m going to take this cake to Angie,” she says, referring to the handbag cake, and then I have fittings and alterations all day at the theatre. I’ll let you know what sort of time I’ll be home, in case you wanted to…”

“Make dinner,” I add with a laugh. “Of course.”

* * *

Aunt Addy leaves not long later and I try to put thoughts of who’s in the garage to the back of my mind as I clear up the kitchen and make space to start icing. If I’m going to have a go at this cake making plan, I need to get some examples together to show people what I can do. I took pictures of the handbag cake before boxing it up, and once I have a business name figured out, I can start advertising, I guess.

I have the radio on, playing a relaxing mix of old songs, and I’m totally lost as I sing away while making tiny icing roses.

A throat clearing behind me scares the ever-loving shit out of me and as I spin around, I knock a load of roses to the floor.

“Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you heard me come in.”

I didn’t hear a fucking thing. I have no clue if he’s just walked through the door or has been stood there watching me for a while. I banish the thought of that being a possibility from my head and bend down to pick up roses.

Blake rushes over and goes to help me but when I see the state of his hands I push them away.

“Sorry,” he mutters when he realises why I don’t want his help. “Are they ruined?” he asks, standing up and looking at the ones I’ve rescued.

“Salvageable.” It’s not true for all of them, but it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.

“You’re really quite good at this. How did you end up being a lawyer when you have a talent like this?”

“This wasn’t good enough for my mum or stepdad. They didn’t believe anyone could be happy unless they were earning a fortune in a swanky tower block and buying all the good things life can offer,” I reply, basically explaining my previous life. “This was what I wanted but wasn’t allowed.”

Blake’s eyebrows draw together as he processes what I’ve just said. I can only assume his upbringing was a little different, seeing as he’s living in this little town as a maintenance guy, and I’m not saying that as a bad thing at all. If I’d had my choice when I was a kid, I never would have left this place, and I would have followed my own dreams. I will never knock anyone for what they do, as long as it makes them happy.

“What’s that look about?” I ask when I see his face change.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing; go on,” I prompt.

He lets out a huge breath as he argues with himself but he eventually caves. “When Addy and Kayleigh used to talk about you it was…” he pauses for thought and I wait, desperate to know what he’s going to say. “I thought you were a stuck-up princess who was all about the money and the designer labels,” he says in a rush. He looks back at me with an apology written across his face. He also steps back a little and I want to laugh. Does he think I’m about to come at him with my rolling pin? “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I probably should be angry that’s what he thought of me but I can’t, because he’s already clearly learnt it’s not true. “That’s the life I was living. It’s the life I was told I had to live. I was being the person I was being told I had to be. None of it’s me, though. This is me,” I say, referring to my icing sugar coated apron.

“I can see that. You’re much less stuck-up princess and more baker girl,” he says with a smile. “Although I’m pretty sure you’re a baker girl with one expensive wardrobe.” He uses this as an excuse, I think, to take another little trip around my body.

“Hmmm,” I mumble as I think about how true that is. I only brought a tiny selection of what I actually own with me. There’s a small department store’s worth of clothes, handbags, shoes and accessories back in London. I hate to think how much money is sat there.

I’m abruptly pulled from my daydream when I feel burning heat on my cheek. “Going somewhere nice?” Blake asks as he wipes some icing sugar off before sticking his tongue out and licking his thumb clean.

Holy shit, that sight does things to me.

When he raises an eyebrow at me, I remember he’d asked me a question, although I now have no fucking clue as to what it was. “Um…yes,” I say sceptically.

His laughter points to the fact that wasn’t the best answer.

“The power’s back on.” His eyes flick to the kettle so I break away from his intense stare to make us both a drink. “This really is incredible,” he says from behind me. When I look over my shoulder, he’s taking in my half-finished creation. It’s a three-tiered wedding cake that will have a swirl of roses wrapping around it.

“Thank you.”

“Is there any to eat?”

“No, not yet. Once I’ve finished and photographed it you can eat the lot if you like. For now, though, I can offer you a sandwich?”

“That’s perfect, thank you. So how long will it be until it’s finished?”

“Tomorrow, probably.”

“What?” he asks with a sad face.

“It’ll be worth it,” I say, thinking of the deep red velvet cake and creamy butter icing hiding under the fondant.

* * *

“So what’s the plan with this cake making, then?” Blake asks when I join him at the table with a giant cheese sandwich for him and a salad for me. I don’t miss his look of disapproval as his eyes glance at my salad. I may be all for enjoying myself now, but I’m not going to let it all slip away from me. I would still like to fit into some of those designer clothes I have.

“I need to get a portfolio of work together so that I have something to advertise with, and I’ll have to see how it goes from there. What I would really love is to have my own bakery in town. I used to love going to that old one on the high street with my mum when I was a kid. They had a couple of seats in the window and after a day of shopping she’d take me in there and get me a milkshake and a massive slice of lardy cake. I used to love looking at everything they had in the counter and watching the lady behind making fresh batches of sausage rolls and pastries. I was so sad when I found out it’d closed.”

“I think you would make a killing. People around here would love an old-fashioned bakery. To get anything out of the ordinary we have to go into Belfast.”

“We’ll see.” It might all sound like a great plan but I haven’t ever run a business before, let alone a bakery. It’s going to take a lot of work—most of which I haven’t even considered yet. One thing at a time; let’s see if anyone wants to pay money for my cakes first.”

“You can do it,” Blake says with such confidence it warms me from the inside out. I smile at him and we both continue eating, lost in thought, but I don’t miss his eyes looking up at me.

“You should speak to Cara,” he says, suddenly piping up and ruining any thought I was having that he could be sat there thinking about me like I am him. The look on my face must make him realise I have no idea what he’s talking about. “She’s a designer. She did all my stuff,” he says, pointing to the logo on his t-shirt. “She’s great. She could help you with a website and whatever else you need.”

“I haven’t even got a name yet, let alone considered a website,” I admit.

“You got this, baker girl. Don’t even sweat it. Your cakes are incredible; people will be begging you for them, just you wait and see.

Right, I’ve got a meeting with some fences,” he announces before taking his plate and mug to the sink and disappearing, leaving me with only the image of his arse walking out and his confidence in me.

It’s refreshing to hear it.

Edward never encouraged me to do anything other than fit the image he and his family wanted portrayed. Hearing Blake sound so sure of my success makes me want to do it even more.

* * *

I clear up before getting back to my roses but I only get a couple made before something else distracts me.

Blake.

He’s ripped down the old fence but he’s only just come into view as I stand in front of the kitchen window. He’s digging a hole, which means he keeps bending over and giving me a great shot of his behind and the little bit of skin that appears when his t-shirt rides up.

I’ve no idea how long I stand gawping at him, but eventually he stands up and drops the shovel before turning around. It all happens in slow motion. He lifts the bottom of his t-shirt and slowly but surely reveals inches upon inches of taught, tanned skin as he brings the fabric up to his face to wipe the sweat and mud away.

I’m staring, I know I am. I also know that my mouth has dropped open and I’m a few seconds away from drooling, but I can’t help it. The man’s like a fucking piece of art. Then, I panic, because his eyes lock on mine. I expect him to laugh or at least smirk at me for blatantly ogling him, but he does neither. He just stands and stares back, like he’s trying to tell me something, but I have no clue what it is.

I’m lost, utterly lost in his eyes, but eventually a ringing brings me back to reality. I look down and grab my phone from the windowsill to see Juliette’s name staring back at me. By the time I look back up again, he’s gone—disappeared, like I imagined the whole thing.

Shit, was all that in my head?

I shake my weird thoughts, swipe my phone and bring it to my ear.

“Hello?” I say, but my voice comes out all high pitched and squeaky like I’ve been caught doing something wrong.

“Adds, are you okay? You sound weird.”

I clear my throat before saying that I’m fine.

“Really, you don’t sound fine. OMG,” she squeals, “are you with a guy?”

“No, Ju, I’m not with a man.”

“Well that’s a damn shame. You could do with a good Irish man to get your engines burning. One of us might as well be able to enjoy a little easy sex with a hot man,” she says, referring to her fantasy of being one of the women she reads about in her mummy porn books.

“This is real life, not a romance novel, Ju.”

“It happens,” is all she says before changing the conversation. “What’s your new address?”

I rattle it off while continuing to stare out of the window in the hope he reappears.

“Awesome. So how’s it going over there in Leprechaun Land?”

“It’s…uh…” Blake chooses that exact moment to reappear. “Good…it’s good.”

“Hmm…something’s got you all chipper over there and I want to know what it is.”

“It’s nothing. I’m icing a cake.”

“All go on the business front then?”

“I’m not sure knocking up a few cakes classes as ‘all go’ but I’m making a start.”

Juliette and I chat about life for about twenty minutes before I get thoroughly distracted by the goings on in the garden.

“Adds…Adds…ADDISON!” gets shouted in my ear.

“What?”

“You’re not listening.”

“Yes I am. You said that you and Hugo were…uh…”

“Exactly. I rest my case. What is going on with you?”

“There’s a guy fixing the fence. He caught my attention,” I say, trying to make it sound mundane.

“What kind of guy?” If I could see Juliette, I know her eyebrows would be wiggling right now.

“Blake, Aunt Addy’s kind of unofficial son-in-law,” I say, reminding myself why this thing we have going on between us—if it even is a thing— is a little inappropriate.

“I want a photo,” Juliette demands.

“I can’t do that.”

“You can and you will. I want to see the hottie who has you all flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” I protest.

“Whatever.”

“Do it now, Addison.”

“Ugh, fine.”

I hang up, wait for Blake to turn around so he’s looking away, then snap a quick photo. It’s not the worst I’ve ever taken but it doesn’t exactly show off Blake’s perfection all that well. Deciding it’ll have to do—because I have no intention of getting caught trying to snap a second photo of him—I sent it over to Juliette.

It takes all of ten seconds for her to be replying to the message.

Juliette: Phwoar, get in there, Adds!

I’m shaking my head and smiling at her response when my eyes connect with Blake’s through the glass. He winks at me—yes, actually winks—before turning back around to carry on.

Deciding to be a grown up about it and not just hide in the house, I make him another cup of coffee and head out with it.

“Perfect, just what I needed,” he says when he sees me walking towards him with the steaming mug. I tell myself it’s the coffee he’s talking about but the look in his eyes tells me it might be more than that.

“This all looks like…”

“Hard work,” he finishes for me after my words falter when he once again pulls the fabric of his t-shirt up to wipe his face. His abs glisten with sweat in the sun and I just about manage to hold myself back from reaching out and running a finger over the taut muscles.

“Yeah…that,” I agree when he drops his t-shirt.

I stand and watch as he sips his coffee, his eyes dancing with amusement when he sees embarrassment colour my cheeks. I need to get a grip around this man.

“I think that’s the doorbell.”

“Sorry, what?” I have to ask after losing myself in my thoughts again. How do I lose all sense when I’m around him? It’s truly embarrassing. I’m an intelligent woman; no man should have the power to render me stupid like this.

“The doorbell,” he says, pointing towards the house. If the strain on his lips is anything to go by, I’d say he’s trying really hard not to laugh at me. To be fair, if the situation were reversed I’d be laughing at me.

“Of course. See you later.”

“Later, baker girl,” I hear him say as I walk away from him.

* * *

“Cara! Oh my God, it’s so good to see you,” I exclaim when I pull the front door open to reveal my childhood best friend. I reach my arms out and pull her into a hug. It’s a shame we never stayed friends but we were young and it was inevitable.

“Mum said you were back and gave me your number, but I had a free couple of hours so thought I’d stop by.”

“I’m so glad; come in,” I say, meaning every word of it. I think a friend is just what I need.

I put the kettle on while Cara stands, looking amazed, by my barely started cake. “You still like to cook, then?”

“Yes, love it. But I haven’t had much chance until now.”

“I heard you were a big shot lawyer in London. It must feel like you’ve come back down to earth with a bump being back here.”

“Not really. I never wanted to leave, but when my life went to hell in hand basket it was the only place I wanted to be.”

“I’m sorry about your marriage.”

“I’m not,” I say, shocking the hell out of her. “It was never going to last. I’m just glad I found out when I did that he was a cheating wanker. I’d have hated myself if I stuck around longer and found out it had been going on for years.”

“You don’t miss your old life then?”

“Nope.” I say, placing a mug of tea down in front of her. “I think I was always meant to be here but I needed something to happen to show me how true that was.”

“What about you? Blake said you’re a designer now. That’s incredible. I remember how much you used to love to draw.”

“Self-employed designer,” she says, pointing to herself. “I didn’t want to move to the city so I decided to do it myself. Everything that’s been rebranded in this town in the last few years has been done by my fair hands,” she adds with a proud smile.

“Congrats, that’s awesome. You up for helping me out?”

“Of course! What’s the plan?”

“Cakes,” I say, gesturing to the pile of icing behind me. “For now, anyway. I’ve always wanted to own a bakery like that one we used to have in town.”

“I remember,”

“But that’s just a pipe dream for now.”

We chat away like fifteen years or more haven’t passed since we spent any real time together. It’s only when there’s a bang from outside that the conversation slows down.

“Oh, hey, Cara. Were your ears burning? We were only talking about you earlier,” Blake says when he appears with his mug. “Could you let Addy know that I haven’t finished but I need to go and get Sinead from school. She’s got swimming.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll try to get back tomorrow but if I can’t, it’ll have to be the weekend.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, Cara. Later, baker girl,” he says with a wave and a heart stopping smile that only I receive.

When he’s disappeared and I’ve managed to get my butterflies under control, I look over to Cara, who has a shit-eating grin on her face.

“What?”

“Been back a few days and already trying to snag the most eligible bachelor in Northern Ireland,” she says with a wink.

“No, don’t be stupid. It’s just Blake.” I try for nonchalant but the narrowed eyes I get in return tell me I didn’t hit the mark.

“Well, maybe you’ll be the one to break him. Christ, all of us have tried, but other than a few dates, the guy’s lived like a monk since Kayleigh died.”

“Oh?” falls from my mouth and it makes me sound way more interested in the situation than I should.

“He’s hot though, right?” Another wink.

“Yeah, I guess.”

I continue to try to play it cool and evade Cara’s questions for another half an hour before she heads off after agreeing to meet for coffee in a few days.

Without all the distractions, I manage to almost have the cake finished by the time Aunt Addy gets back.

“Oh wow, that’s incredible, Addison,” she sings when she sees it.

“Thank you.”

“How have you done it so fast?”

“I have no idea,” I answer honestly, because what with Blake flaunting himself around and then Cara’s visit, I haven’t exactly had much time.

“Angie loved your cake. And here,” she says, handing me a couple of bits of paper. “I have some more orders for you.”

“No shit,” I squeal, taking them from her. “Who for?”

“Angie’s sister wants one for her grandson based on some kids’ TV show I’ve never heard of, and a friend of Angie’s daughter—her dad’s fifty soon and she wants a golfing cake.”

Aunt Addy walks off to hang her coat up and put her stuff away in her workshop, leaving me to freak out. Could this actually work? Could I make money doing something I love?

“See, I told you it would all be fine, didn’t I?” she says with a smile when she comes back to the kitchen and finds me grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“You did.”

After dishing up dinner, I sit and listen to Aunt Addy tell me about the costumes she’s been making for the local theatre group for their performance of Macbeth. She tells me she was given two tickets to their opening night in a few weeks’ time and invites to me to with her.

“Oh, I forgot to ask. What was that all about on the phone last night?” Her question reminds me of the less exciting part of my life.

“Ugh, some problem with the place I wanted to rent. I’m pretty sure it’s a mistake on their end, but I’m taking it as a sign it wasn’t meant to be. Blake made me see that maybe I was rushing into things.”

“I told you: stay here as long as you want. I can have a shuffle around in my workshop and we can get you another bed.”

“No, no no, that’s what I don’t want, you changing your life for me. As soon as everything’s sorted with the divorce and I have some decent money, I’ll find the right place. I’ve got the best solicitors working on it so it should be pretty quick. Edward hasn’t really got a leg to stand on as I caught him red-handed.”

“Just don’t rush anything because of me, okay? I like having someone else in the house again.”

Her words bring up an image of a smiling Kayleigh as a child with bright blonde hair and ice blue eyes. “How are things now? You seem to be coping okay.”

“Some days are harder than others,” she admits. “I miss her every second but I try to focus on all the joy she brought to my life while she was here. It’s no use dwelling on the sad stuff. And, she gave me Sinead. That girl is so precious and does her mum proud every day.”

“She seems like a good kid.”

“She is. I just wish she’d had longer to get to know how incredible Kayleigh was.”

Kayleigh’s death was a shock to everyone three years ago. I was in London so only heard what happened from Aunt Addy, but it seemed that she was fine one minute and then gone the next. They found out after she died that she had some rare condition that when mixed with the contraceptive pill that she’d recently changed to she developed a blood clot, which caused a pulmonary embolism. Both Aunt Addy and Sinead have been tested to see if they carry the gene but thankfully both of them are fine. Unfortunately though, that means it’s on Kayleigh’s dad’s side and Aunt Addy hasn’t seen sight nor sound of any of them for years. She tried hunting them down to let them know but without much luck.

I can only imagine what it must have been like for them all, but I know Kayleigh would be so happy to see them now getting on with their lives and smiling as much as they can.

“Enough of that,” Aunt Addy chastises when she sees the morose look on my face. “Have you heard from that mother of yours lately?”

“Ugh, not for a while. You?”

“I had a postcard from…Atlanta I think, a while ago, but nothing other than that. It said that she was happy and enjoying life.”

“Yeah, I bet, she’s spending all toy boy Tim’s money,” I say with a laugh.

When my stepdad died from a stroke, Mum played the grieving widow card for all of about a month before she found Tim. I’ve only seen the odd photo of him but I wouldn’t be surprise to hear we share the same birth year. His model worthy looks and hefty bank balance are more important to my mother. They’ve been swanning around America for the past six months. Every now and then I’ll get a selfie of them on a beach somewhere with some elaborate cocktail between them, but that’s about as far as contact between us goes. She doesn’t know my marriage has gone down the pan or that I’m even in Ireland—not that she’d care. She never made a secret of the fact she hated this place, and once she left she made it very clear she had no intention of returning.

“Toy boy Tim,” Aunt Addy repeats with a laugh. “That’s perfect!”

“I can’t believe it’s lasted this long. I thought he would have been bored of her by now.”

“Maybe there’s more to him than his looks and money,” Aunt Addy muses, but when she catches my eye we both start laughing. “Or not.” They were friends for years; she’s well aware of what my mum’s like.