Every Bookshop Needs a Cat (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 2)

Reciprocity

"Are you sure you don't want any more food?" Anya asked, tearing another small piece from the rolls they'd been served with their meal. "I can't stop eating." She laughed shyly. "And I wonder what flour this is. I detect some spelt, but I can't–"

She felt his gaze on her, and she lifted her eyes. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, while he lay across it, closer to the footboard.

"What?" she asked.

He smiled and slightly shook his head.

"Nothing. I love your relationship with bread." He slid his hand along the sheet, and his fingers softly wrapped around her ankle. "Is that what you want to do?"

"When I grow up?" Anya jokingly finished his sentence, and he chuckled. "I don't know," she answered pensively and chewed the bread. "If you'd asked me a few weeks ago, then I'd say that working in a bakery is my dream come true. But recently–"

"Yes?" he encouraged her to continue.

"I don't know, maybe I'm being full of myself, but I've been helping Eddie and Yolanda with their accountancy, and– Nevermind." She waved her hand dismissively. "It's silly."

"If you mean the other two jobs that you're working, it's not silly at all." His tone was pointed.

"They aren't jobs!" she exclaimed.

"If you aren't paid, darling, it just means that you're doing them pro bono," he said. "And again, not to tell you what to do with your life, I have to remind you that you collapsed a few days ago. Which means you have to downsize and pick one of these three jobs."

"But I can't just sack off," she protested. "Eddie relies on me. And Yola needs my help!"

"I get it, älskling, any idea of self-care is lost on you. You've never had the luxury. I reckon it's on me from now on." He rubbed the round bone on her ankle with his thumb. Anya only half listened, distracted by his touch. "But you know who also relies on you and needs your help?" he said, sudden seriousness slipping into his voice. "Varya."

Anya jolted and stared at him.

"If you collapse again, or worse so, develop complications of your anaemia, what's going to happen to her?" He pursed his lips. "You've once told me that coming to Fleckney was your last resort, meaning you have nowhere else to go. I assume, Ferguson is useless. And as of right now, legally nothing connects me to Varya, so I would be powerless to do anything. So, please, consider taking better care of yourself?"

"But I'm fine," she started, and then blurted out, "What do you mean by 'legally connected?'" 

He said nothing, and Anya felt panic rising.

"You have a very odd facial expression right now," Anya squeaked. "You look– exasperated. Or annoyed. Or– not. I'm not sure what this emotion is, but I can't just ignore this." She drew in a shaky breath. "Because you've just said– Actually, I'm not not even sure what you said."

"Are we having 'the talk,' darling?" he asked, and Anya frowned. "Darling, don't pout," he added quickly. "I'm sincerely asking. Because if we're discussing our relationship and our future, then I'll make sure to speak openly. I'd hate to upset you again."

Our future.

"I don't want to be one of those women who demand promises and declarations," Anya muttered, "but I think I need some sort of an– explanation. I just don't understand where we stand, and–" Her voice trembled. "If I were alone, I'd just be happy with anything. But I've made this mistake before." She cringed from the unpleasant memories. "Twice. If you think about it, all of my relationships were bad for my daughter. Dom– and then after him, the man I dated. And I can't risk it. She's already attached to you. What am I saying– she loves you to bits!" Anya pressed her hands to her cheeks. "I didn't want it - her getting used to you, to your kindness. But you needed me. And I was already falling for you, and I just couldn't say no to moving to the Hall. So, when you say something like that–"