“Yeah, me. It’s not mine...but anyway, I’ll see if I can dig it out. In the meantime, call your sister, so she knows you’re okay.”
He disappears with my phone, leaving me with his. I stare down at the screen. The generic background of a flower blowing in the breeze makes me shake my head in disbelief. Why hasn’t he changed it?
I call Cassie, who is full of tales from the other side of the town. Apparently, her neighbour's son couldn’t get through, and he’d flown in from America especially. Cassie said he’s furious and is demanding the council fix it.
“I’m okay here,” I say, putting the milk back in the fridge.
“I bet you are.” Cassie clucks her tongue. “I don’t know a woman alive who wouldn’t wish to be holed up with Dylan. How lucky are you that he passed you?”
Dylan walks back in with a triumphant grin on his face, holding my phone up to show that it’s connected to a charger successfully.
“Very,” I reply, watching as he plugs the charger in, my phone lighting up instantly. “Are the kids okay?”
The conversation goes on for a while longer, and when I hang up, I notice Dylan slicing some bread.
“Toast?” He asks, sliding two slices into the toaster.
“Yes, please,” I say, watching as he unwraps a block of butter. I’d forgotten what it was like round here-no major supermarket to grab your Lurpak from; people got their butter, eggs, cheese, and bread all locally.
Dylan spreads the butter onto the roughly cut bread before curving his knife into a thick raspberry jam. He pushes the plate towards me, putting in some more slices.
I bite into it and moan with delight, the creamy butter the perfect partner for the toasted bread. The jam is super sweet with chunks of raspberry in, and I polish off both slices like I’ve never been fed.
“Nice, isn’t it.” Dylan grins, pushing another two slices towards me. “We can have cheese on toast for lunch with a bit of pickle on the side if you like.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, sucking the jam from my fingers.
He watches me, blowing on his tea as he tilts his head to the side.
“You’re really pretty.”
My cheeks flush as I laugh humbly, waving my hand at him. “Shh.”
“I’m serious; you are,” Dylan says. “You always were.”
This is news to me.
“Is that why you were so horrible to me?” I ask, arching my eyebrow.
“No, I was just a dick,” Dylan says, and we both laugh.
“You were, but you’re not now,” I say carefully as he widens his eyes.
“Was that a compliment, Merry?”
“Yes. That’s the last one you’re getting out of me too.” I waggle my finger at him as he studies me.
“Somehow, I doubt that.” He smirks, sipping his tea.
What did that mean?!
