Page 40 of The Good Part
‘You’re not in bed.’ Sam’s voice takes me by surprise, and I turn to see him standing in the hallway watching us, a huge smile on his face.
‘Yes. Sorry I’ve been so out of it,’ I say, getting to my feet.
‘It’s fine,’ he says, walking across the hall to pick up Amy, who gurgles in delight as he lifts her above his head. ‘Do what you need to do to get well.’
‘I’m not sure bed rest was helping. I think I should try and get back into my normal routine, if you could just tell me what that involves.’
‘Well, on a Saturday, we’d usually have friends over for a game of jetpack polo in the garden,’ Sam says, swinging Amy from side to side.
‘Really?’
‘No,’ he says, his expressive eyes flashing with mischief.
‘Okay, some ground rules, no jokes like that – not fair on the woman with amnesia,’ I say, pretending to frown. ‘Do we really have jetpacks though?’
‘No jetpacks. Sorry,’ he says, then puts Amy on the floor and walks across to pull me into a hug. ‘It’s great to see you up.’
He leans forward to kiss me, but he must feel me tense because he pauses then kisses me on the head instead. ‘Sorry. I keep forgetting I’m a stranger to you.’
I shake my head, feeling awkward. ‘It’s fine, sorry, it’s just—’
‘Don’t apologise,’ he says, covering the sting of rejection with an overblown smile.
‘I know this must be difficult for you too, and for the children,’ I say, then pause, pulling my hands behind my back, not sure where to put them. Seeing Sam again in daylight, I’m reminded how tall he is, what a presence he has, how perfectly his jeans fit, sitting at just the right level on his hips. ‘Can I ask, do you know anything about a pitch off, something happening at my work?’ I ask, drawing my eyes up from his hips.
‘You can’t worry about work now,’ Sam says with a frown. ‘Your health needs to take priority.’
‘So, I didn’t happen to mention some amazing “big idea” to you?’
Sam shakes his head. ‘Afraid not. If you’d written something down, it could be in your office.’
‘I have an office?’
‘Second door on the right.’ He points down the corridor towards the back door.
‘Okay, thanks. I might take a look later,’ I say, smiling up at him, resting one hand on my hip, then switching it up to put one hand behind my back. How does a normal person stand? I feel like I’ve forgotten.
‘I’ll make the kids dinner then, shall I?’ Sam asks, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from my face.
‘I already made food,’ I tell him. ‘Risotto balls; they just need warming up.’
‘Risotto balls? Wow. That’s a first.’ Sam looks impressed and I shrug, as though it was nothing. Then he looks me in the eye and says, ‘Hello, stranger.’ It takes me a moment to realise he means it as a joke about the fact I don’t usually cook, but the way he says it makes me feel as though he’s talking to me –the real me.
‘Hi,’ I say, holding his gaze. Then my stomach flutters – a spark, some kinetic burst of energy. I sense he feels it too, because his body stills and he doesn’t look away. Whatever this feeling is, it’s both unnerving and oddly familiar. I don’t know what to do with it, or how to respond, so I turn to walk away. ‘Um, I just need to talk to Felix, if you’re okay to watch Amy,’ I say, heading for the stairs, suddenly self-conscious about how I’m walking.Am I strutting? Is this my normal walk?
‘Sure,’ says Sam, exhaling heavily, before picking Amy up off the floor.
As I walk up the stairs, I need to hold the banisters to steady myself, because my whole body now feels charged with an undefinable tension. Why am I being so awkward and weird? Then it dawns on me.This is how I get when I have a crush on someone.
Chapter 17
Felix is sitting on his bed, reading an encyclopaedia. I know I’ve upset him, and I need to fix it.
‘I’m taking your advice – I’m not letting Tom Hoskyns or anyone else steal a day from me,’ I say, and he gives me a grudging smile. ‘There’s food downstairs if you’re hungry.’
‘Will you look at my Portal Quest now?’ he asks.
‘Sure,’ I say, humouring him. I sit down on his bed and he eagerly hands me his tablet. The first screen asks, ‘What does your portal look like?’ It then takes me through a series of questions about the machine’s size, colour, lights and functionality. Once I’ve answered the final question, a graphic appears – a rudimentary digital sketch of the wishing machine. It looks like it’s been drawn by a child, which of course, it has.
