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

Do I Bore You?

Viola woke up twice, took more meds, and drank more liquids. Rhys was fast asleep near her on the bed both times, and she promised herself to have a good look at him when she woke up again. Drifting away, she thought that she'd forgotten what it was like to share bed with him - or any man for that matter. During the last year of her second marriage she'd mostly lived alone. Perhaps, that was why it had been rather easy and painless for them to separate. Meanwhile, during the first months after she'd left Rhys, she'd been in hell every minute of every waking hour - and in her dreams even more so. That pain had burnt her out from inside and had perfected her skill of giving up things she enjoyed. Not being Hani's wife had been no exception: she'd missed him at the beginning, but the ache hadn't been acute, it had been a mixture of melancholy and acceptance.

When she opened her eyes the third time, it was dark outside. She listened to her body and understood that her fever had broken. She felt sluggish and tired, but hungry. Rhys was taking most of her bed, and her duvet was wrapped around his waist and his hips, leaving her about a third of it. She wasn't cold only because of his astonishing body temperature. He as if radiated heat, she remembered it now. She turned onto her side, tucked her fist under her cheek, and looked him over. He truly aged like a good wine, she thought in amusement and slowly lifted her hand. She touched the tips of her fingers to the wide strand of silver on his left temple, his Mallen streak, and then trailed her fingers down his sideburn and onto his jaw. He made a low humming noise in his throat, and his eyes opened slowly.

"Hey," Viola said and smiled at him.

"Hey," he answered and made that grimace he did when waking up: scrunching his nose and drawing his eyebrows, squeezing his eyes tightly. He then looked at her attentively, "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry," she answered, returning his line from when he'd been ill.

"That's good," he said and yawned.

"Why are you sleeping?" she asked, studying the seemingly harsh whiskers of his beard.

"I always sleep if I– stop," he said with a chuckle.

"Like on Nana's sofa?" she asked, and he nodded. "It means you're sleep deprived," she said. "You need a better work-life balance."

"I don't have a life," he said. "Just work."

"And sleep," she said.

"And sleep." He smirked. "Do you want me to get you some soup?"

"Yes, please," she said.

He rolled on his back, found the phone in the bedding near him, and dialled. While he was ordering, she continued studying his beard - are you fixated, Viola? - but then she realised he was giving her address for delivery. She poked his shoulder with her index finger, and gave him a frown and a head shake when he looked at her sideways. He finished his order and hung up.

"What?"

"You've ordered me food to the surgery on your name," she hissed, her calm and cosy mood from just a few seconds ago gone completely.

"Yeah." He gave her a confused look. "What's wrong with that?"

What a Rhys thing to say! Never a thought of how his actions can be perceived and how they are reflected on those around him!

"Are you prepared for Mrs. Owens asking when our second wedding is going to be?" she sneered venomously, and his eyebrows jumped up.

"What's up, Vi?" he asked - and she suddenly saw that he just didn't understand.

She groaned and rolled, pressing her face into her pillow.

"Vi?"

"I'm too sick and knackered to explain it to you right now," she muttered, her voice muffled.