Look Back at Me (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 1)

Ring-a-Ring-a-Rosie

They finally separated early evening Sunday, when Rhys headed to Nana for dinner, and Viola stayed in the flat - to clean up and to prepare for the week ahead. She was replacing the bedding, smoothing the sheet as she always did, in an unconscious pattern of her hand movements - and she froze, staring at the backs of her palms.

***

They'd spent the most wonderful weekend together, having done everything she'd offered on Saturday morning - meals, coffee, treats and sweets, and two long walks. They'd held hands, kissed without worrying who was watching, laughed, and talked. Those hadn't been profound conversations, just chats about things that had happened while they'd been apart, about places they'd seen, about mutual acquaintances.

There had been a funny moment on Sunday morning. While she was making the second cup of coffee for them, he was lazily chewing his marmalade toast, and started flipping through a book she'd moved onto the counter from the table Friday night.

"Oh, I know her," he said and tapped his long index finger on the photo on the back cover.

Viola looked at him over her shoulder.

"You know Olivia Dane," she repeated incredulously.

"Yeah, she was at John's wedding," he said and bit another large piece of his toast. Rhys had an exceptional memory for faces, so Viola didn't doubt him. "Her husband designed my cottage," he added.

Viola put aside the towel she had in her hand, slowly turned, and stared at him.

He searched his memory and said, "John Dowling. Well, not the cottage, but the renovations I've made in it." His cheek was protruding with food behind it in the most adorable way. "What?"

"Nothing," Viola said and shook her head with a laugh. "I just sometimes forget how connected your family is."

"Seeing that I'm a village oik?" he said sardonically and bit into his bread again.

They'd bought the loaf in Cornflower & Sparrow on Saturday. Rhys thought it wasn't as good as the Russian girl's bread, but Viola had enjoyed two slices nonetheless. At the moment, he was chewing with such a gusto she considered joining him.

"You are, but you're my village oik," she said, and kissed his rounded cheek. "And it's funny. Not that John Dowling can't possibly design your lovely cottage. But there's this persistent rumour among her readers that she tests all her sex scenes on her husband first, so technically when one reads about shag in them, one knows how he is in bed. And I just sort of didn't think about him as a real person, while you've met him."

"I have," he said and took a large sip of his coffee. "An ace bloke. Sort of quiet, but knows his stuff."

"Yes, he does," she drew out, and Rhys gave her a raised eyebrow look. Viola burst into a series of ridiculous giggles.

"So, that's what it's about, the book?" he asked and started reading the description on the back. "Shag?"

"Among other things," Viola said with a chuckle. "Fiona suggested it to me. And apparently, Will approves."

Rhys twirled the book in his hand and put it aside. "Seeing she's up the duff, I can't see why he'd need to read something like that," he dismissed.

"He just complimented the quality of writing, love," Viola said and turned back to the stove. "He didn't comment on the content in any way."

"Well, he's one of the other Holyoakes, you know," Rhys grumbled. "They are bookish."

"That didn't sound like a compliment," Viola commented and poured the coffee into their mugs.