And ‘little’ was an overstatement.

‘Then freelance. You could write an opinion piece about nest parenting for one of the online women’s magazines. Or, you could start a blog and build a profile that way. I’m sure there are other women in your position who would relate.’

As much as I loved Hayley’s optimism, right now it annoyed the hell out of me. Besides, considering a job outside of the clinic—any job—would feel like accepting the possibility that Adrian and I were never going to get back together. And that was something I wasn’t willing to concede.

9

I was like a kid at Christmas. Up before dawn, I showered, dressed, threw my sheets in the washing machine and collected all my things from Hayley’s guest bedroom, hoping I wouldn’t be coming back.

‘You look like a girl who got lucky last night.’ Hayley’s eyes twinkled as she entered the kitchen where I was manically cleaning again to pass the time until I could return home.

I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m just excited about seeing the kids. Going back home.’

And, truth be told, I was also looking forward to finding out how Adrian had survived a week without me.

Hayley and I left at the same time—she to the airport and me to the supermarket closest to our house. Yesterday, I’d written up my usual menu plan for the week and made a shopping list accordingly.

Heavily laden with shopping bags, it was almost ten o’clock by the time I let myself into our family home. Charlie greeted me at the front door and barked excitedly, almost tripping me over as I carried the groceries into the kitchen.

‘Hello, my darling boy.’ I dropped to the ground and yanked him into my arms. I laughed as I rubbed the fur around his neck, and he licked my face in appreciation.

‘Don’t worry, I have treats here for you too,’ I said when I finally pushed to my feet.

I gave Charlie a bowl of the expensive brand dog food we only gave him on Christmas Day and then unpacked the shopping to the sound of him munching happily. I was surprised to find the fridge quite full, but even more shocked there were no empty bottles of milk or cartons of eggs still in there. Or hollow packets or wrappers in the pantry. Adrian had a terrible habit of doing that and both kids seemed to have inherited it from him. I was always nagging them about it.

How am I supposed to know what we need if I don’t know we’ve run out?

It would be just my luck that all my years of pestering him had finally paid off the moment he’d decided he didn’t want to be with me anymore. Then, the next Mrs Wood would benefit from all my hard work and training.

The next Mrs Wood? Ignoring the way that made my stomach turn, I forced the idea out of my head—there wasn’t going to be another Mrs Wood because I wasn’t giving up the role.