Page 40 of Hollywood Crush

“There we go, a little colour on you. I was worried I’d started fancying Casper the friendly ghost,” Tudor said.

That forced a smile out of me, and Tudor’s face cracked into a grin. “That’s the man I know and love,” he said. He finally took a seat next to me on the hospital bed and out one arm around me. I let my plastered ankle fall hang loosely over the bed and Tudor’s leg rested against my other one.

“Are you planning on going home? To Manchester?” he asked.

“I…don’t know,” I admitted.

“Why not let me take you home? My home? To take look after you?”

“For how long?” I asked.

“As long as you need me. After your bones have healed and your hair’s grown back you can stay as long as you like. No pressure. Just you, me, a village full of intrusive idiots and good food. How’s thatsound?”

“Like heaven,” I said.

“Then let’s take you to heaven.”

When he kissed me again I felt like I was already there.

Epilogue

Tudor - Five Months Later

“A little bit higher!” Danny shouted from where he sat comfortably in a deck chair across the dirt track.

I grunted and pushed my side of the sign upward. “Bloody hell, this is heavy.”

“Wuss,” said Llywelyn where he stood on the other side. Both of us were up separate ladders and doing our best not to drop the hotel’s brand new sign. He had a spirit level to make sure that Danny wasn’t off with his visual measurements but Danny had so far been unhappy with our lacklustre placement.

“That looks about right! Tudor, I think you’re dropping a bit though!”

“The spirit level says it’s fine!” I shouted back.

“Well maybe the spirit level is wrong?” Danny asked. I shook my head in exasperation.

“Maybe you should come up and do it yourself!”

“I can’t,” he said. “I broke my ankle, remember?”

“Five months ago!”

“Yeah, well, I thought I felt a twinge. Get thatsign screwed in and come over and take care of me.”

Llywelyn chuckled and drilled in his side of the sign. He leaned over carefully and passed me the drill to do the same on my side. “Perfect,” he said quietly. Both of us descended and moved the ladders away.

“That looks amazing!” Another voice, this belonging to Llywelyn’s long-term boyfriend and all-round nice guy James. He was walking up the hill with their little rescue dog, Dinky, in tow.

We both walked over the dirt track that served as a kind of car park for the hotel and looked at our handiwork.

“It’s a real proper hotel,” said Daniel reverently.

“It is now,” I replied.

Over the past few months, I had used the retainer money from theThrones of Bloodproduction to spruce the outside up so it was just as nice as the inside. Llywelyn had been the driving force, putting his new carpentry qualifications to use and buttressing up the outside so it no longer appeared to sag under its own weight. We had replaced boards as well as the shale on the roof and repainted the white wooden exterior to a navy blue that contrasted beautifully with the greenery around it.

The sign above the door no longer readGwesty Maes Gwyn, which meant White Field Hotel in Welsh. It was nowCartref, or Home.

“Ready for the grand re-opening?” asked James. “I remember opening the cafe. I was terrified. Now though, I’m glad. It was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

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