STEPH
“Isn’t your mum normally here by now?” Cal leans against the living room doorjamb with a coffee in his hands.
I yawn, then sip my coffee. “She’s not coming today. She isn’t feeling well.”
He stands up straight. “Why didn’t you say? I can help you shower.”
“It’s fine. I can go a day without a shower.”
“What if she’s ill tomorrow?”
“I’ll ask Claire or my sister.”
He slides into the seat next to me on the sofa. “But you don’t need to. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Cal, you’re not helping me shower.”
“Why not?” His eyebrows pull together like washing me is the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was once, but that was a lifetime ago.
“I’m not getting naked in front of you.” I smile, but only to hide the embarrassment in my voice.
He laughs. “For fuck’s sake, Steph. Is that what you’re worried about?”
I squish my eyebrows together, tugging the hem of my pyjama top. “I don’t want you seeing me naked.”
He laughs harder. “I’ve seen you naked more times than I can even remember. Like a billion times.”
“I think that’s a little exaggerating. And besides, it’s different now.”
“Why have you grown a third nipple or something?” He leans back on the sofa, lifting his feet on the coffee table.
“No.” I pull my fluffy pyjama sleeves over my hands and chew on the cuff.
“I can see you naked any time I like. Your body is engraved on my mind. I know every curve and every fucking freckle on your skin.”
“It’s still not happening.” There’s no way I could let him see me now. When he saw me naked before, he was in love with me, looking through a rose-tinted lens. He doesn’t feel that way about me now. He would see every flaw. I may have gained some confidence and independence this last year, but that doesn’t mean I want him ogling my extra rolls of fat and stretch marks.
He places his hands behind his head. “Suit yourself. Are you going to stay in those fluffy pyjamas all day?”
“May as well. Saves changing.”
“Didn’t you have those same sheep pyjamas at uni?”
“No, they had penguins on. The kids bought me these. They thought they were cute.”
“They are cute, for a five-year-old.” He snorts.
I throw a cushion at him and wince, holding my side. He flashes a cheesy grin, and even with the pain in my ribs, I can’t help but smile along with him. I don’t think I could look sexy if I tried, not with the plaster cast on my arm. Even if I wore a silk one-piece. Sexy is not in my power at the moment or on my mind. I can’t even make it to the loo without breaking into a sweat.
“Did the kids get off to school all right?”
“Yeah, fine. Cairen’s teacher wanted to talk to you. I told her to give Justin a call.”
“What about?”
“He’s probably been playing up in class again. She wouldn’t tell me about it. I’m not his dad. They won’t disclose any information to me.”
“I don’t know what to do, Cal.”