We're both sat on the couch, and I've got the stack of ringed papers on my lap. "You're responsible for all this?" I figured there would be a lot, but not this much.

"Yes and no. I'm the boss, so I have to spot mistakes if they're made, but it's not specifically my job to know every building code and regulation for Bedfordshire. That's why I have a team. But since my team isn't playing nice, I figure I need to be prepared. I would not put it past Jack to slip something in that he knows is wrong just to see if I'll catch it, and if I don't, to point out the error himself."

"He's a sly bastard, is he?"

"Thinks he is," she agrees. "I intend to ensure he isn't next time."

"It's already happened?"

"Today," she says with a grimace. "He proposed something, and I agreed, not thinking he was trying to screw me. Then a few minutes later, in front of the rest of the team, after we'd already gone with his idea, he read out a by-law that contradicted what he'd suggested. A frustrating waste of time and then he pointed out in front of everyone that, since I'm not British, I don't know all the regulations, so it's easy for mistakes to happen."

"Did you ask him what his excuse was? He's British. He suggested it."

"No. I should have, but I was too embarrassed and angry to be that quick on my feet. Kind of a disaster. I can't fire him for it. He was definitely attacking me in a way that felt safe for him."

Not a shock. I've been on jobsites with blokes like she's describing. Stab you in the back the first chance they get. Don't give a toss about reality, just how they appear to others.

"I'm sure he'll do it again. So much smugness in him after the meeting. And the expression on his face." She shakes her head. "The combination of being angry and feeling useless isn't one I can tolerate. Maryam, my secretary, dug up all the by-laws and building codes for me to look over this weekend."

"Where do you reckon we should start?" I rotate through the ringed books on my lap.

"Bedfordshire by-laws or whatever you call them here, it's where he got me today. There's a sticky note on the pages about housing developments."

"Right, yeah, housing estates." I flip the pages to see how many there are. "Doesn't seem too bad." More than I'd ever be able to memorize, but there's a reason I never went to Sixth Form or on to university. My brain functions much better when my hands are moving.

"I read through those on the way home in the cab. Ask me a question."

"Fire prevention," I say, seeing a whole section. "Tell me what you know from the building code."

She rubs her hands together and takes a deep breath. "This one is easy." Then she proceeds to list every single thing on the page in front of me. Bloody impressive.

"You've got that one down," I say.

We go through the regulations together, and we're on the second book when I begin to realize that tea may be the only way to power through this. Some of it is interesting, but some of it is dead boring.

"I'm getting a cup of tea," I say, dropping the books onto the couch as I rise to my feet and stretch. "Against my will, I bought decaffeinated tea bags this afternoon."

"For me?" Her hand is splayed over her chest, and she seems genuinely touched.

"Wouldn't touch the stuff myself. Took a chance you might."

"Yeah," she says with a smile. "That would be—to borrow a British expression—lovely."

I wander into the kitchen, and there's a warmth across my chest at how grateful Paige seemed to be for such a small gesture. This afternoon, I carted Chloe and Joey to the shop to pick up some odds and ends, and I saw the box of decaffeinated bags beside the ones I was buying. It occurred to me that Paige might drink it if I had it in the house. Who doesn't love a cup of tea?

"How do you take it?" I call to her.

"Two sugar. One milk."

While I'm waiting for the tea to steep, it occurs to me that this is the most relaxed and the happiest I have been in ages. Last time I felt this contented was before Chloe was born. Her arrival kickstarted the storm of worries that seemed to live in my belly for ages. Didn't seem like I'd ever be able to give her the life she deserved, and after Imogen left us, I was certain I couldn't.

Even now, I'm not sure I'll be able to give Chloe this kind of life after this year, but I'm going to enjoy this contentment while it lasts. Let the hurricane in my stomach die down to a soft breeze.

When I take the tea back to Paige, she gives me a pleased grin. She holds the cup in both hands and lets it sit just under her nose. "I've always opted for herbal teas in the past, but I think you might be on to something with the decaffeinated idea."

"Can't be doing with those cranberry, lavender, orange peel combinations." All those scents remind me too much of someone else. Paige, I've noticed, smells like honey.

"I'll admit, I'm a bit of a vanilla or cinnamon flavored tea, myself. If they made a cookie dough tea, I'd be all over it." She sets down her mug. "Further cementing the idea that I am, in fact, someone's grandmother."

I let out a chuckle. She's always making these comments as though I think she's old. "Are we doing more of this?" I hold up the one we were working on.

"Yep," she says. "If you don't mind. On Monday, I want to feel prepared for anything."

After a large gulp of my tea, I set it aside. Then I remember that tomorrow is Saturday, and Watford, my football club, is playing a match. Earlier this week, when I purchased a telly for my room with Paige's money, I bought the smallest one. The giant one on the wall in here would be much better viewing, almost like being down at the pub.

"Do you reckon I could watch the football match in here tomorrow? Starts at three. All done and dusted in about two hours." When Paige hesitates, I continue, "If it's too much trouble with Joey not being allowed to watch, no worries."

"I can—I can take him out somewhere or occupy him in another room," she says. "Watch it in here."

"If you're sure?"

"Very sure." This time she's firm.

I pick up my tea for another sip, pleased with the plan for tomorrow. Then I set it down, and we get back to work. Building codes and regulations float between us for the next few hours until Paige starts to get too many wrong.

"This is my brain telling me it's full." She yawns. "Or exhausted."

"I'll tidy up here." I take the stack of regulations and I place them on a table near the fireplace.

In the doorway to the living room, Paige lingers, and when I glance in her direction as I click off lights, she's got an expression on her face I can't quite read but seems a bit like longing. Felt the same way myself a few times since Imogen left—the desire for someone, anyone.

Soothing that longing never happened, not with a baby, a full-time job, and a boatload of stress swimming in my stomach. I'm probably reading her wrong, but even if I'm not, I can't do anything to fuck up my situation in this house. Chloe and I have got a year of stability, a chance for me to save enough to keep us afloat once Paige and Joey are back in America. A bit of loneliness on my part or hers isn't worth the risk.

I gather the mugs and head toward where she's still standing. "The wankers at work are going to be in for a surprise on Monday."

She smiles, and my comment eases the strange moment between us. "Thank you for helping me."

When I go to squeeze past her, she glances up at me. Unlike last Sunday when she seemed mildly afraid of my breadth and height, that's not the impression she's giving me now. For the briefest second, I consider pinning her against the doorframe and brushing my lips across hers, let myself discover how deep the honey flavor runs.

The thought causes me to rush a little too quickly past her, and I almost drop one of the cups, fumbling it mid-air before snagging the handle at the last second.

"Impressive," Paige says.

"My reflexes have gotten better with Chloe around," I say over my shoulder. Inside, my heart is thumping, and it's not from the cup. What the fuck am I doing having thoughts of kissing Paige? Not long ago, I was in the kitchen congratulating myself on how solid my life feels. A fit bird, especially one who's my employer, won't upend my life. Not happening. Won't let it.

It's been too long since I've found a woman attractive or been in this close, constant contact. Being with Imogen for almost ten years, and then being on my own for so long is taking its toll. That's all. My attraction isn't to Paige, and hers is not to me—it's to the situation we're in.

But as I sneak past her closed bedroom door, the idea still lingers at the back of my brain. Trust me to pick up on a vibe destined to blow my contentment all to hell.

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