15
It took a whole lot of creeping to Nathan to get the day off work on Tuesday. Eyes wide, lower lip pouting, my sorry voice explained that I’d get no more opportunities to complete my Christmas shopping, if he didn’t let me go before work broke up the next day.
He’d hesitated—of course he had—and brushed at his hair, while his eyes reflected his contemplation, but the vibration of his mobile had broken into his thoughts. Whatever he’d seen on the screen had creased his brow, and he’d walked away with a mumbled, “Okay then, Jem.”
Desired result achieved.
Once out, I chose the department store on purpose. Not only would it save the hassle of car park switches, but it would have everything I sought—a bonus I sorely needed with Poppy’s absence, thanks to her obligatory lunch with her mot
