Martha Fletcher has only ever had one job- Executive Assistant to Sam Courtenay.
She'll schedule his diary, pick up his dry cleaning, usher girls out of his apartment first thing in the morning... nothing was out of bounds until one night, that blur...
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I love lazy Sundays. I love them even more now that I get to wake up next to Martha.
I'd come to terms with our Valentine's Day plans being hijacked, leaving the two of us to babysit Léa and Sera but what neither of us counted on was Sophie and Charlotte missing their babies so much that they came to pick them up that night instead of the next morning. Surprisingly, it was my brother and sister-in-law who wanted their baby back the most with Charlotte and Isaac not all that bothered about taking Sera off Marhta's hands twelve hours earlier. Still, both babies left our care just shy of ten pm, giving Martha and me two hours of Valentine's Day where we could be alone.
We made the most of the time, drinking wine and eating chocolate before making out and stripping off. One thing led to another and then... well, I'll let your imagination guess what happened next. Our first night together was strange, that we both managed to agree on once it was over. I think we'd been building it up in our minds so much that it was impossible to get it right the first time. Since then, we've been practising and perfecting.
At first, we stayed mainly at Martha's house but after an awkward encounter with her father last week, I insisted Martha stay at mine to avoid another run-in with Isaac Fletcher. She wasn't happy about it at first, especially because she had to rush off home every morning to get changed, but once I cleared some wardrobe space for her and tidied a shelf in the bathroom, she soon settled in.
Gosh, we're practically living together now.
"What about this scar?" Martha asked, tracing a ghostly white line on my chest. "Let me guess, blood pact with a vampire?"
Laughing, I shake my head and look down at the marking that burned under her touch. "Actually, that was from when Dan pushed me into a glass door and it shattered underneath me. Some of the glass cut me and I had to have three stitches. It was traumatic."
"Dan pushed you into a door?" Martha asked, frowning at hearing my childhood story.
"I was seven and really obnoxious," I explain. "I deserved it because I killed his hamster."
As it was Sunday and neither of us had plans, we weren't in a rush to get out of bed. Instead, we continued to explore each other's body; at the moment, Martha was finding any and every scar she could on my torso, asking for the history of each one. So far, she's learnt about how I'd fallen off a rocking horse and cut my shoulder on a sharp edge, how I got caught on barbed wire when I tried to escape my grandmother's wrath, and now she knows about Dan pushing me through a glass door.
Martha, I now know, only has one scar and that was from when she was bitten by a spider. I remember laughing when she said that but when Martha announced that it was a Black Widow that had bitten her, my eyes almost popped out of my sockets. She reassured me that with anti-venom, the bite wasn't that bad but it irritated her skin enough to leave a scar no bigger than her thumbnail. Her scar story was much cooler than mine.
