When we get to Shayne’s house he pushes me into the front room, ignoring me as I ask him about the explanation for my leg.
“Oh, gosh! What happened to you?” My mum wails when she sees me.
“She got shot,” Shayne says. I gape at him.
“She what?”
“Yeah, she joined MI6 properly with me and Shayne,” Luca adds casually.
“We’re also getting married. Soon,” Shayne says, gesturing between me and him.
“Really?” Luca looks surprised.
“Oh, and we’re going to adopt. And move out,” he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Coffee, anyone?” Luca offers, following his younger brother out of the room. My parents and my neighbours sit on the sofas, staring at me as I stare after the boys. He did not just do that…
“I apologise for my son…he can be quite harsh,” Mr Benedict gulps.
“Quite?” I stutter.
“Umm, very,” he corrects himself with a shy smile for me.
“You got shot?” Mrs Benedict is the first to snap out of the shock, rushing over to kneel beside me, looking very worried.
“It’s nothing, really,” I mumble.
“But, sweetheart, you’re in a wheelchair!”
“Shayne wouldn’t take no for an answer,” I reassure him, not so sure if I actually can stand up, but wanting her to think that I can.
“Are you moving out?” My mum suddenly asks.
“Umm, we haven’t really got anywhere to move out of,” I remind her.
“But if you move out we can buy a smaller property,” she says.
“Kelly, that’s a little unreasonable,” dad says gruffly.
“Lila will stay with us until she and Shayne find a home,” Mrs Benedict decides, smiling brightly at me.
“Yes, you and Shayne can stay in the guest house out back for a while,” Mr Benedict adds.
“Really?” Shayne asks, leaning against the doorframe.
“Of course,” his mum says, wrapping her arms around her son’s waist.
“Congratulations,” Mr Benedict says, and I swear I can see a tear in his eye.
“You’re going to adopt?” My dad asks, looking at me for the first time since Shayne’s announcement.
“We are,” I confirm.
“Good, I’m glad,” he says, a twinkle appearing in his eye.
“Let’s go then,” Shayne says, grabbing the handles of my wheelchair.
“I want to walk,” I insist, planting my feet firmly on the ground.
“Fine,” he mutters, helping me up by the elbow. I’m surprised to find that I can walk quite easily, with only a slight limp.
“See? I’m fine,” I assure him.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he tells me, his frown lines deepening.
I feel bad for causing him so much worry and stroke his jaw line. “Really, Shay, I’m alright.”
“She’ll be fine,” my mum pipes up. “She’s a fighter, my girl.”
“See? I’m a fighter,” I say proudly, easing him out of the room. “Where’s this guest house?”
“You know where the garden ends?”
