What are you doing here?’ Rosie glared at her ex-husband, who was standing on the doorstep, his familiar features illuminated in the moonlight.
‘I know this is out of the blue, and maybe I should have called you first…’ Denzil blurted.
‘You think?’ Rosie’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
‘Hear me out, please, Rosie, love. Just give me five minutes. Ten, maybe.’
‘You’ve got three,’ she snapped, reluctantly letting him in.
‘This is quaint,’ he said, peering around the lounge. ‘The marine-themed pictures and decorations are a nice touch. Quirky, like you.’
She saw him clock the guestbook on the oak sideboard as he added, ‘It’s been a long drive. I could murder a coffee.’
‘It’s not a coffee I could murder,’ Rosie muttered, padding to the kitchen in her flip-flops as Denzil made himself comfortable on the sofa.
Returning with a tiny espresso cup of black coffee, she sat on an armchair opposite. ‘What’s so important you have to turn up in the middle of the night without warning?’
‘Exaggerating, hun. I wouldn’t call nine o’clock late. And I clearly wasn’t interrupting anything,’ he added, appraising the faded-grey silky bathrobe she was wearing over a baggy pink T-shirt.
Rosie glared. ‘I’m waiting.’
‘I’ve been offered a new job in Florida with a mega salary.’
‘Good for you.’
‘It comes with a luxury house on the beach.’
Rosie huffed impatiently. ‘And you’re telling me this because?’
‘I want you with me, Ro.’
‘Are you having a laugh?’ Rosie was flabbergasted.
‘Please give me another chance, Rosie.
