Read Bella Summer Takes a Chance for Free Online Page A

willing partner in crime.’
    ‘Oh.’ He had nobody to go home to. I ignored the stabbing guilt. ‘Well, I’m glad you called. I’m always happy to celebrate.’
    ‘Good, because it’s a champagne night. Get the bottle, will you? It’s in the freezer,’ he said, getting glasses from the cabinet with the wonky door that had needed fixing since we moved in. ‘Tell me about your day. Any news on Zurich yet?’
    I shook my head.
    ‘Maybe you won’t go.’ He sounded hopeful. Again the guilt welled up. How long would I feel responsible for hurting him?
    ‘I do hope I’ll go. I need the work. And it’ll be good to get away for awhile.’
    ‘You’ve already got away from me. How much more distance do you want?’ He smiled. ‘I’m only joking. It’ll be good to go to Zurich. I hope you get to go. Cheers.’
    ‘Thanks. To your success.’
    ‘To success for both of us,’ he said.
    By the end of the champagne bottle I was infused with good feelings and bubbles. We chatted amiably over enough paella to feed Madrid. He did probe about my love life a couple of times, but wasn’t offended when I deflected his questions. Just as I wasn’t offended when he deflected mine. The Rioja flowed after the champagne and we found our rhythm again. It could have been any night over the past ten years.
    I was surprised to hear the glassy crash of bottles going into the recycling bin from the pub next door. It was well after last orders, and much later than I’d planned to stay. I was also much drunker than I planned to be.
    ‘I should go,’ I heard myself slur.
    ‘You should stay. B., you’re in no condition for the Tube. I’ll make up the sofa. Really, why don’t you just go home in the morning? It’s Saturday anyway. No work.’
    ‘I don’t want to kick you to the sofa.’
    He laughed. ‘Who says I’ll be the one on the sofa? Good lord, you do take liberties. Break up with a man and you think you get all the luxury.’
    I laughed back. ‘Of course. The sofa’s the least I can do.’ There was a second bedroom, but it was five feet wide and stacked with storage boxes that we’d never got around to throwing away.
    ‘I’ll get you a T-shirt. You’re in luck. There’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet.’ He ambled off, a little unsteadily, to get my sleepwear.
    It was too late for the Tube anyway. And it was a big L-shaped sofa that we smugly chose at IKEA while couples all around us argued. Plenty of room to stretch out. Much nicer to stay here.
     
    I woke with a snort, my face wedged between the sofa cushions. Sunlight streamed through the big windows, diffused by nearly transparent curtains (another smug IKEA purchase. We were insufferable that day).
    ‘Coffee will be ready in a few minutes,’ Mattias called from the kitchen table, where the weekend papers had already been disembowelled.
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘Take a shower if you want. I’ll make us some breakfast.’
    ‘No, no, that’s okay, I’ll get going soon.’
    ‘You may as well eat something. I’m cooking it anyway. You’ll feel better. Here.’ He handed me a glass of cold water and two ibuprofen.
    ‘My hero.’
    ‘Breakfast in fifteen minutes. Take a shower. There are towels in the closet. Well, you know that.’ He padded back to the kitchen in the ratty old hand-knitted slippers his mum got him for Christmas when he was about twelve.
    My head and heart both told me I shouldn’t be there. I hated when they ganged up on me like that. I ate as quickly as good manners allowed, chastely thanked Mattias for his hospitality, and hurried to the Tube for the long journey to the care home.
    Last night was definitely a mistake.
     
    Even the bright sun couldn’t make the care home’s 1950s exterior look cheerful. The first time I saw it I dreaded going in, imagining what a place housing people with nowhere else to go must be like. I was pleasantly surprised. It looked more like an upscale hotel than a residence of last resort. The only clues as to