“We can’t risk it, Sebastian. I can’t risk it. And… if anyone found out, he’d be complicit in… in a crime. You do understand, don’t you?”
He shrugged and looked down. “Yeah, I guess.”
He obviously wasn’t happy with my answer.
I sighed. “Do you want me to run you to the country club? I could drop you at the entrance and get there before you. No one would be any the wiser.”
“Okay,” he muttered. “Thanks.”
A thunderous knocking at the front door made me jump.
“Fuck!”
I heard Sebastian’s oath as if from a great distance but I couldn’t move.
The banging on the door started again.
“Caro!”
Sebastian’s panicked voice unfroze me. He was thrashing about, dressing as quickly as possible. There was nowhere to hide. He couldn’t get down the stairs and out through the back without being seen. This was every nightmare I’d imagined, played in fast forward.
I pulled my robe around me more tightly.
The pounding started again.
“Caro! Get the fucking door!” mouthed Sebastian.
I ran down the stairs and stumbled to a halt. I took a deep breath and pulled the door open.
“Delivery, ma’am,” said a man in a red and yellow DHL uniform as he handed me a large parcel. “Sign here, please.”
I started giggling: I couldn’t help it.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
“Yes!” I gasped, wiping tears of relief from my face.
He gave me a strange look and headed back to his van shaking his head. Hysterical woman alert: just walk away.
I sank to the floor and began to cry in earnest, more from shock than anything else. Sebastian came down the stairs and sat on the floor next to me.
“Fuck! That scared the shit out of me! Don’t cry, Caro. It’s okay.”
He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and rocked me slowly.
Eventually, he pulled me up off the floor.
“Come on. Let’s get some breakfast. I’ll make you one of my special omelets.”
“I thought you couldn’t cook,” I said, my voice still shaky from the adrenaline rush.
“I can’t – that’s why it’s special.”
He sat me at the kitchen table and started rummaging through the fridge.
“How many eggs do I need?”
“How hungry are you?”
“Starving!”
Of course.
“Then get six. And you’ll need to add a drop of milk in the mixture.”
He peered at me from around the door.
“Really? Milk? Oh, okay.”
He frowned and disappeared back inside the fridge.
I stood up to fetch the frying pan and mixing bowl but he waved me back to the table.
“I can manage,” he said confidently, as he turned on the stove and placed the frying pan on top.
I waited for a moment, twitching in my chair. I had to speak.
“Um, Sebastian?”
“What?” he said, staring intently at the eggs as he whisked them sloppily.
“The frying pan is getting really hot and you haven’t put any oil in it…”
“Oh, fuck!”
He pulled the pan off the stove and swore as the hot metal burned his wrist.
“Quick! Run your hand under the faucet!”
He stood with his hand under the running water cursing softly. He really was adorable and I couldn’t help grinning at him.
“What?”
“Will you let me help you now?”
“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “You can help.”
In a calmer, more organized fashion, I showed him how to make a plain omelet, seasoning it with black pepper and a little salt; fried some tomatoes to go on the side, put on a pot of coffee and breakfast, or rather brunch, was ready.
“By the way,” I said, a thought occurring to me, “what were you planning on doing – you know, if it had been someone… else at the door?”
“Fucked if I know,” he said honestly. “Climb out the window, hide under the bed? Any suggestions?”
“Not the window – you could fall and get hurt. Besides, that window is right above the front door – it would have been kind of obvious.”
“I could have flattened the bastard,” said Sebastian easily.