“The doctor said I could still work as long as I kept my feet up. Where are my feet right now?” Freya wiggles her toes.
“I think you missed the part of her instructions that said bed rest. Not sofa rest.”
“I think you missed the part of her instructions that said modified. I think a sofa falls safely under that category.”
“I think we best call the doctor and get clearer instructions.” Mac digs into his pocket and retrieves his mobile.
“You are not calling Belle Harris at this hour!” Freya says firmly. “Just because she’s married to one of your former teammates doesn’t mean we can bother her after hours.”
“Tanner and Belle are our mates, Freya. Christ, we’ve been to their house several times. Belle took you on as a patient as a personal favour to a friend! I’m phoning her.”
“Mac,” Freya growls, her chin jutting out defiantly.
“Cookie,” Mac volleys back, his voice low with warning despite his adorable pet name for her.
My head bounces back and forth as the two stare at each other in stony silence for a full sixty seconds. “Should I go up to my room and give you guys a wee bit of privacy?”
“No,” they both reply in unison.
My brother turns his glacial gaze on me. “You’ve been living here three weeks and are supposed to be helping, not making matters worse.”
“I am helping!” I exclaim defensively. “I am Freya’s business eyes, ears, and body which means she didn’t lift a finger today, I promise you.”
“She’s been an excellent lady-in-waiting,” Freya coos with a pleased smirk.
I turn a quizzical look at my sister-in-law. “I thought we were calling me your intern?”
“Heavens no! You’ve got your master’s in business for goodness’ sake. You’re more qualified to do this job than I am. Calling you an intern is an insult. I think I was just a bit peckish when I said that the other day.”
“What about puppet? You had a really passionate Pinocchio rant on Tuesday,” I ask, embracing Freya’s idea of unconventional business titles fully because…well…why not?
Freya’s nose wrinkles. “I don’t fancy myself a puppet master. I want you to have some say in my business decisions or who knows where my pregnant, hormonal thoughts will take us.”
“And you weren’t keen on me being the Watson to your Sherlock, right?”
“No! We’re strong, virile women in business. We need strong female names to really embrace our prowess in the corporate world of fashionable pet wear, right?”
“Right.” I bite my lip thoughtfully. “And we were a definite no on calling me your bodyguard.”
“Yes.” Freya waves me off. “You’re very tall and statuesque but quite thin, damn you. And I’m short and round, so honestly, I can’t say who would win between the two of us in a proper mugging.”
“What the hell are you two going on about?” Mac growls, rudely interrupting our conversation. “You sound properly mental!”
I pin Mac with a punishing glower. “We’re trying to come up with my official title now that I’m fully employed at Perfectly Sized Pets, thank you very much. If you don’t have anything useful to add to the conversation, you can be on your way. There’s a roast and potatoes in the oven that I put together!” I exclaim while thrusting my fist in the air. “With Freya’s guidance, of course, because I’m a crap cook.”
“You did wonderfully today!” she coos.
“Thanks, Freya.”
Mac’s jaw tics with agitation as he shakes his head and stomps off towards the kitchen. “Ever since you’ve arrived, I feel like a third wheel in my own house.”
Freya and I both cover our mouths as we try to conceal our giggles. Thank goodness I love my brother’s wife because if not, it would have been a lot more painful to help them out in their current situation.
But how can you not love Freya? She’s a quirky, fiery redhead, much like myself. She has freckles for days, and she managed to magically tame my stubborn Scot of a brother. Honestly, I’ve never seen Mac argue with someone the way he argues with her. They’re like an old married couple who should have their own sitcom. But even when they’re having a go at each other, he looks at her like she’s his complete and total world. It’s hard to watch because it’s so incredibly intimate, yet I struggle to look away because it feels meaningful.
Regardless, I’m committed to being Freya’s puppet, bodyguard, and baby-watching-Watson until the contract with Harrods is signed, sealed, and delivered with terms that will satisfy Freya to take a year for maternity leave. I’ll do absolutely anything, including chopping potatoes for a roast so that wee nephew of mine stays safe and sound inside her.
They just found out they were having a boy last week, and Freya told me Mac wept like a baby during the scan. Stubborn tattoo’d Scot on the outside, soft as a cuddly teddy bear on the inside…that’s my brother.
Freya exhales heavily, pulling me out of my musings. “I suppose we should clean up and eat since it’s well after six. We have another episode of Bridgerton to consume after dinner!”
I growl out my frustration. “Why are we only watching one episode at a time again? Netflix has groomed us to be binge-watchers, so this is complete torture.”
“I know, but I burned through all fourteen seasons of Heartland at an embarrassingly fast rate. Taking our time means prolonging our enjoyment. I don’t want to finish all of Netflix during this bed rest. That would be horrifying.”
I lift my brows as an idea hits me. “But maybe since Mac and I will be gone to the charity gala tomorrow night, we should watch two episodes tonight. I mean, we’ve earned it today, don’t you think?”
“Very well then.” Freya giggles. “I just can’t say no to you!”
Laughing, I rise from the sofa to begin tidying up our piles of options into a particular order so we can pick up where we left off tomorrow.
“Tilly should be Smarty Spice,” Mac bellows out from the kitchen around a mouth full of food.
Freya frowns toward the door. “Sorry?”
After a short pause, Mac shouts back more clearly. “Tilly could be Smarty Spice and Freya, you can be Stylish Spice. It makes the most sense based on both of your talents, and well…you two fancy the Spice Girls, right? Aren’t they kind of all about girl power?”
Freya’s and my face light up.
“That’s perfect, darling!” Freya exclaims jovially. “Alexa, play ‘Wannabe’ by the Spice Girls.”
I squeal excitedly as the song plays over the sound system, then hear Mac chastise, “Freya, you’d better be sofa-dancing, or I will be calling Belle whether you like it or not.”
“Oh, I am, darling,” she says, rocking her pointer fingers up and down by her face. “I’m practicing my mummy-to-be dance moves. I’ll leave the sexy gyrating to the single lady in the room.”
I hear Mac grumble something along the lines of “barf”, which makes me laugh out loud as I dance my computer up to my room, still reveling in the fact I’m going to have my first proper night out in London very soon.