When Connie eventually came home at around seven that evening, she found that Ric had remade the open fire in the sitting-room. After he and Lola had finished their drink, Ric had given Lola Connie's keys to give to her, and had made his own way home. He had detoured past the betting shop, which had often been one of his old haunts, but had just managed to restrain himself from going in. He knew that if he had, all would have been lost. He was living dangerously close to the edge, he knew that, but how did he admit this to Connie? Would she even want to hear it? He didn't know.
Ric was sitting on the sofa in front of the open fire when Connie returned home, both of them feeling tired, worn out and on edge. Connie sank down at the other end of the sofa and briefly closed her eyes. "How was your day?" Ric asked when she didn't say a word. "Exhausting," Connie said without opening her eyes. "I don't know how Lola does it, day in day out. AAU reminds me of working in A and E in inner London on a Saturday night. In other words, a bloody nightmare from start to finish." "You're forgetting that Lola definitely has the temperament to survive it," Ric said fondly. "Any nurse, patient or visitor who comes under her cosh, isn't going to forget it in a hurry." "And I thought I was like that," Connie said tiredly. "You've changed," Ric told her succinctly. "And I'm not the only one who's noticed." Finally, Connie's eyes opened and she stared at him. "I haven't changed that much," She said disbelievingly. "Would it be such a bad thing if you had?" Ric asked her carefully. "Yes," She said firmly. "Because I refuse to appear weak in front of my colleagues, or anyone for that matter." Getting up from the sofa, she flounced out of the room and made her way upstairs. Fifteen love to Connie, Ric thought despairingly. He had been firmly put in his place, all for suggesting that she might have slightly altered for the better.
Upstairs, Connie lay in a hot, scented bath, alternating between fuming at Ric for possibly being right, and regretting having snapped at him because she knew he was right. She was always so instantly aggressive at this time of the month, that she couldn't help wondering if that was why Michael had always made it his mission to avoid her company. She always managed to respond with precisely the wrong words, all because she couldn't be bothered to give even a moment's thought to the situation in hand. Ric hadn't looked all that good either, she'd noticed, as though today had been somewhat trying, which she supposed it had been. She wondered what he'd been up to since the funeral, and found herself almost praying that he hadn't been gambling. She really didn't know if she had the energy to calm him down if he had.
When Ric appeared in the bathroom, carrying a cup of tea for her, she gave him an apologetic smile. "I thought you could probably do with this," He said, putting it down on the corner of the bath. "Thank you," She said, looking up at him. "I'm sorry I snapped at you." "Forget it," Ric told her mildly. "I think we've both had something of a difficult day." As he moved to retreat from her, she put out a hand and caught hold of one of his. "Stay," She invited him gently. "And tell me how it went." "I'm not sure that there's much to tell," he said, not letting go of her hand, but neither making a move to sit down. "Ric, please talk to me," She said, sensing his unease and wanting to do nothing more than to bring him back to her. "Do you honestly expect me to have a serious conversation with you whilst I have such a delightful view in front of me?" he asked her, wanting to get her away from what he'd been tempted to do. "I might look attractive," Connie said with a slight smile. "But I certainly don't feel it." "Trust me," Ric said in that deep, gravelly tone that always set her hormones into a bubbling cauldron of desire. "From here, you look incredible, with your nipples sticking up out of the water, just begging to be touched." Connie felt her nipples immediately harden at his words, something Ric didn't fail to miss. "I wish you wouldn't talk to me like that when you know I can't have my wicked way with you," She told him huskily. "Why?" He asked with a predatory smirk. "Is it a little too invigorating?" "Yes," She replied with a laugh. "You know it is." Leaning down towards her, he kissed her, both of them wanting to prolong the encounter in too much, much more. "I'll do you a deal," Ric told her when they came up for air. "You come downstairs when you're ready, and I'll pour us both a drink. You let me hold you, which I can promise you is something we both definitely need, and I might just tell you what I nearly did this afternoon." Gazing right into those deep, black eyes of his, she saw his need, his craving, which he had so far managed to suppress. What he needed from her now was reassurance and comfort. "All right," She replied quietly. "You have a deal."