Hot Single Docs: Blinded By The Boss. Amy Andrews
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Charlotte. ‘We’ll get coffee on the way, and we can talk...privately. Perhaps I can help.’
She could have turned his help down for herself, but she had Isaac to think about, and Charlotte had no choice but to grab at any and every offer that came her way. And there was the matter of that nagging need at the back of her head, which wanted her to explain to Edward, tell him that she wasn’t the person that all of this made her seem. She was going to have to swallow her pride and go for coffee.
* * *
Edward had waited in the hallway while she dragged on a pair of jeans, shoved her feet into her sandals and splashed her face with water. Her eyes had looked puffy in the mirror, but she hadn’t wanted to keep him waiting for too long, so she’d dropped her make-up bag into a canvas holdall along with a few of Isaac’s favourite toys to keep him occupied.
They’d stopped at a coffee shop and Edward had ushered them in. Isaac had slipped his hand into Edward’s, tugging at his jacket until he’d lifted him up to see over the counter. He seemed to trust that if he stuck with his new friend no harm would come to them, and Charlotte hoped that her son was right.
Now they turned into a wide street, dappled by sunlight shining through the branches of the trees. Turned again into a short drive, behind a high wall hung with greenery, and came to a halt outside a double-fronted Georgian house, white-painted with slim, elegant lines.
It was quiet here. Far enough from the main road for them to be able to hear birdsong. Charlotte handed Edward the cardboard coffee holder and busied herself with getting Isaac out of the car.
The silence between them was oppressive. Edward seemed awkward as he opened the front door, walking inside without even asking them in, and Charlotte began to wish that she was anywhere but here. Apart from being at home, that was, waiting for the phone to ring again.
‘Well...’ He clapped his hands together awkwardly, like a man who was unused to guests. ‘Here we are.’
‘Yes.’ Charlotte stepped tentatively over the threshold, holding tightly onto Isaac’s hand. Inside the house it was tranquil—a cream-painted hallway, pictures on the walls, green plants everywhere.
‘Let’s go into the sitting room.’ Edward seemed to galvanise himself into action and opened a wide panelled door, ushering them through it.
Sunlight streamed through the front windows onto pale oatmeal-coloured sofas at the front. A TV, nestling unobtrusively in one corner, conceded pride of place to a state-of-the-art sound system. The room ran the full depth of the house, and next to the French windows at the back stood a grand piano.
‘What a lovely room.’ She gave her son’s hand a squeeze, although whether it was to give or receive confidence she wasn’t quite sure. ‘Isn’t it, Isaac?’
Isaac was too busy looking around to reply. At the lines of glass-fronted cabinets, heavy with books. The green plants, arching gracefully around the windows.
‘Come and meet Archie.’ Edward beckoned Isaac over towards the French windows, where a ginger cat lay stretched out on the carpet, basking in the warm sunlight.
‘Is he a lion?’ Isaac looked up at him gravely.
Edward laughed. ‘Well, he’s not very fierce. You won’t need that.’ He gestured towards Isaac’s plastic ray gun, which he’d insisted on bringing along with him.
Isaac stowed the ray gun in his pocket, just in case he’d need it later, and followed Edward over to where the cat lay. He watched solemnly as Edward tickled its ears and then its tummy as it rolled over, luxuriating in his touch.
‘Do you want to stroke him?’
Edward was letting Isaac approach the creature in his own time, and Charlotte smiled as Isaac slowly reached out.
‘He’s growling.’ Isaac snatched his hand away.
‘No, that’s purring. It means he likes you.’ Edward drew back a little, letting Isaac stroke Archie.
‘Be gentle with him, sweetie. Remember that he’s much smaller than you are.’ Charlotte stayed at her post by the door, still not sure whether to accept the quiet welcome of this place.
‘Would Isaac like to watch some TV? While we talk?’
‘Oh. Yes, he might do. Thank you.’ Charlotte took the remote that Edward proffered and found a channel that Isaac liked, turning the sound down to a quiet murmur.
Edward set a low coffee table in front of the screen, put Isaac’s frothed milk onto it and opened a cupboard, drawing out the molecule modelling kit.
Charlotte grinned. ‘You’re going to let him play with your toys?’
‘If I share, then maybe he’ll let me have a go with his ray gun. Will he be all right here?’
‘He’ll be fine. Look, he’s already made a new friend.’ Charlotte nodded towards Isaac, who was talking confidingly to Archie, stroking him carefully.
‘Good. Well, we can talk through here.’
There was a door at the far end of the room, by the piano, and Edward disappeared through it, leaving Charlotte to get Isaac out of his jacket and settle him in front of the television.
She took one last look at Isaac, and then took a deep breath. Time to face Edward now. Now that keeping up appearances was no longer an option it was going to have to be the truth. She just hoped that he would understand.
He was sitting at a table in the large kitchen, studying the coffee in front of him as if there was some solution in there. She could tell him the answer to that. She’d tried it enough times herself. She mustered a smile, and sat down opposite him.
‘So who’s Archie named after? Archimedes?’ She pulled her own coffee towards her and peeled off the plastic lid. It was smooth and strong and the caffeine hit her straight between the eyes.
He looked up, suddenly aware of her presence. ‘Yes, actually. Although it’s a mispronunciation, of course. Am I that predictable?’
‘No. I thought of the most unlikely thing I could and suggested that—’ She broke off as he smiled at her. That smile did all kinds of things to her, none of which were going to be of much help at the moment.
‘So.’ His gaze dropped to his cup again. ‘You’re in trouble, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. I am.’ She should have realised that Edward would cut straight to the point. He wasn’t much for small talk. Charlotte hadn’t anticipated how much of a relief it would be. ‘It isn’t what you think.’
He looked up at her. Those deep blue eyes were almost irresistible. ‘I’m not thinking anything.’
‘You’re always thinking something, aren’t you?’
A trace of a grin tugged at his lips. ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
Suddenly she wanted to defend herself from all the implications of what Edward had seen and from whatever conclusions that agile, razor-sharp mind of his was working its way towards. ‘The debts aren’t mine, Edward.’
‘I know. It was your husband they were looking for...’
‘He’ll be my ex-husband soon. Very soon, if everything goes as planned.’
Maybe she should have been a little less vehement about that. Said it a little more as if it was a matter of fact rather than an avowal of innocence. Edward seemed far more at home with facts than emotions.
‘Have you asserted your separation financially?’
‘Yes. There are no more joint accounts and credit cards. The house and the mortgage are in my name.’
‘Then you have nothing to worry about. As long as you’ve applied for a Deed of Separation, and you’re not jointly liable for any of his debts...’
‘How do