"We need to talk, young lady." Abby placed a mug of Earl Grey in front of me and I inhaled the distinctive spicy citrus scent of it before quirking a brow at my sister-in-law over the rim as I took a sip.
"Young lady? Abbs, you're all of fourteen months older than me."
"I'm serious Kate." She was, I could tell - she had her serious face on. I grimaced. "Yes, you can pull a face like that, Kathryn Juliet Sullivan, but it isn't going to stop me from asking what the hell is going on with you?"
The use of my full name told me, if nothing else did, that she meant business, but I was belligerent enough to try to fob her off. "What do you mean, what's going on? Nothing's going on!"
"You've been moping around in Tom's flat for the last three weeks, you hardly ever go out, you don't see your friends and family, you're not working - that's what I mean."
I felt frustration boiling up from deep inside me and got out of my chair to begin pacing around Abby's kitchen, running my hand through my hair.
"For goodness' sake, Abbs! I've got two cracked ribs and a broken arm! I can't dress myself without help, let alone do much else! I can't type computer programme code with only one arm. I can't go running because of my ribs. I can't cook meals or do the vacuuming or change the sheets or ...." I took a deep breath and continued, "As for going out, god, every time I step out the door there's a bunch of bloody parasitic photographers just waiting to snap my picture!"
"Why aren't you seeing your friends? Or us? This is the first time you've come over since just after Nat's funeral and even now I practically had to blackmail you."
Mention of Natalia felt like a punch in the gut and I stopped moving. "Everyone is busy."
Abby snorted. "That's the biggest load of bull I've heard since your nephew claimed the Wii broke itself! You've been avoiding everyone." I didn't reply. "How are things with you and Tom?"
At that I resumed my pacing. "He's driving me crazy!"
"How?"
"He doesn't let me do anything! He cooks all the meals, does all the cleaning, buys the groceries, helps me get dressed. God, he even shampoos my hair for me!"
"So you're complaining because your boyfriend is absolutely perfect?" I didn't like the sarcastic tone she used and gave her a scowl. "Are you hearing yourself Kate?" She came over to me and stood very close, putting a calming hand on my shoulder. "Honey, I think you're experiencing survivor's guilt. You went through something very similar to this after your parents died - Mike did too."
"That's ridiculous, why would I feel guilty?"
"You feel guilty because you're alive and Natalia isn't," she stated baldly and I felt like a bomb went off inside my head. My chest felt tight and I started shaking as I absorbed what she had said. She continued quietly, "It's not your fault, sweetie, it was a tragic accident. There is absolutely nothing you could have done to prevent it."
The pain of losing my friend came back in full force as I choked out, "She didn't deserve to die Abbs!"
"No, she didn't. But don't you think it's time you got on with living?"
Suddenly I realised how right she was and how much I had been beating myself up, hiding away from anyone and anything that reminded me of Nat. I fell into Abby's arms and sobbed and sobbed until I had no more tears left in me. She simply held me and let me get it out of my system and then she made more tea and we sat down together and made a plan.
When Tom came home that night I had dimmed the lights and set the table with candles and a small vase of flowers. Bach was playing on the sound system and the smell of our dinner drifted tantalisingly around the flat. Tom stopped at the entrance to the kitchen and looked at me in surprise.
"You made dinner?"
"Yes - well, technically I just reheated some food Abby gave me, but I wanted to save you having to cook."
"I don't mind cooking."
"I know."
"It smells delicious."
"Good." I stepped close and he put his arms around me, taking care as always not to put pressure on my left side. "And the bath's half run, I just have to top it up after dinner so you can have a nice relaxing bath after your long day."
"Am I in the wrong flat?" he grinned and I gave him a soft thump on the chest.
"It's a thank you," I told him.
"A thank you? For what?"
"For being the perfect boyfriend."
—
Ten days later the doctor confirmed my ribs were completely healed. I could resume all usual daily activities with the obvious exception of those that might jar my arm, which still had another week before the cast would be removed.
That night as I came out of the bathroom I found Tom's back towards me as he undressed, preparing for bed. He had taken off his t-shirt and was unbuttoning his jeans when I walked quietly up behind him and began running my fingers over his shoulders, slowly moving down his back as I pressed light kisses to his warm skin. I moved my arm around his waist and my fingers lightly feathered the taut muscles of his stomach, which clenched at my touch. His hands stilled.
"Don't stop on my account," I murmured.
"Kate."
"Hmm?" My hand moved up his stomach to his chest and played with the smattering of soft hair.
His breath caught, "Don't start something you can't finish."
"Oh, I fully intend to finish this Thomas." I moved around to the front of his body, my tongue teasing his shoulders and collarbone. Tom groaned and I nipped lightly with my teeth, delighting in the little noises he was making.
"Kate ... oh god."
I shifted my assault to his neck, kissing, sucking and nipping on the spots I knew were his most sensitive. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back and his breathing becoming a little ragged as his arms came around me, running down my back and over the silk of my negligee to cup my bum and pull me closer.
"Your ... your ribs."
"Are perfectly healed," I told him as I moved to the other side of his neck, "I saw the doctor today." I nibbled his earlobe, which caused further groaning.
"Are ... sure?" He seemed to be having trouble making a coherent sentence.
I looked at him through half-closed lids and asked, "Do you want to stand here looking at x-rays or do you want to take me to bed?"
I was right about which option he'd choose.