Free Perfect Stranger by Sofia Grey Page A

appreciate it.”
    The tension in his shoulders eased, and he slid the sunglasses from his face. “Do you have to go out on Saturday? I really want to take you to Malcolm’s barbecue.”
    “I promised to see Kate, and this was arranged weeks ago. Why don’t we invite your boss and his wife to our place some time?”
    “It’s not the same. They live in Didsbury, while we’ve got a one-bedroom rental in Stretford.”
    “It’s the nice part of Stretford.” I slid my arms around his neck. “We’ll have them over when we get our own place, then. You know it won’t be long.”
    “I suppose.” He finally relaxed enough to give me a brief squeeze. “Ready to go home?”
     
    * * * *
     
    I kept things light all evening. Cooked one of his favorite meals and did a mountain of his ironing, while he watched the sport channel, cold beer at his side. I was hanging up his shirts, when he sidled up behind me and snuck his hands around my waist. “Don’t ignore me again, dumpling. You know I don’t like that.”
    He sounded so forlorn, it was hard to be mad at him. I paused my task. “You need to respect that I have work as well, babe. And sometimes I can’t drop everything, to talk to you.”
    “I know.” He sighed. “But she used to do that. And it reminded me. You know.”
    She was his ex, Shari. He wouldn’t say much about her, other than she cheated on him. It had been so bad, apparently, that he now had trust issues, and I had to be sympathetic. As he pointed out, trust had to be earned, and we’d only been together a year.
    “Umm, where’s my Ralph Lauren shirt? I wanted to wear that tomorrow.”
    I scanned the hangers. “The blue one?” Rob needed more wardrobe space than I did.
    “No, dummy. The white one with the double cuffs and the purple stripe.”
    He had six other white shirts, freshly ironed. “Can’t you wear another?”
    “For Christ’s sake, Jen. I asked you to have this one ready for me. We’re meeting the finance people tomorrow, and I want to look my best.” He released me and riffled through the contents of his wardrobe, pulling out one shirt after another and dropping them on the bed. “It’s not here. Fucking hell. Where is it?”
    I scowled as I retrieved the clothes and re-hung them. “How should I know?”
    He was stomping out of the bedroom. “Because it’s your job to do the fucking laundry, Jen. That’s what we agreed.” I heard him upend the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom. Next minute, he appeared in the bedroom doorway and threw a wadded bundle of cloth at me. “This one. Is it too much to ask? Really?”
    “I did all the washing on Sunday. It couldn’t have been in the basket then, or I’d have washed it.”
    Rob shook his head. “You don’t have much to do, and this is one shirt. One fucking shirt. Tell you what. You pay all the bills and maintain the car—and how about you do the renovations on the property we eventually buy? And in exchange, I’ll do the laundry. Fair, don’t you think?”
    I swallowed down the sarcastic comment that sprung to my lips, and instead examined the shirt he was so desperate for. A light brown stain sat front and center of the white poplin. I sniffed it. Coffee. “I’ve no idea if this stain is going to come out. You should have—”
    “ You should get a move on, then.”
    Tempted though I was to throw it back at him, I didn’t. “I’ll try.”
    His smile returned. “Thanks, dumpling. You’re the best.”

5.3 Kate
    Isobel and I shared a taxi on Saturday night, and we set off to collect Jen.
    I shared the story of Adam’s thinly veiled pass at me, and Isobel gave me a puzzled frown. “Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand him?”
    “What? No, I didn’t. Besides, you know Adam chases anything in a skirt. I guess I was the next in line.”
    “Thanks. That makes me feel good.”
    She turned to stare out the window, at the busy Manchester streets, and I paused. Memories flashed through my head. Finding Isobel