“She won’t from me, and I’m trusting that she never will from you either. I know she’s your friend, but I’m your sister and I need you to promise you’ll never tell. Ever.”
Anjuli’s face puckered with worry. Out of all the men in Heaverlock, why did Ash have to get drunk and lonely with Craig? She wished she hadn’t lost the ability to cry, because right now she wanted to weep for Mac, to shed large, noisy tears for the pain and sorrow she had in store.
She promised Ash not to say a word, much as it made her uncomfortable, but secret babies never stayed secret for long. One day the truth would come out and then there would be hell to pay. In the meantime, how was she supposed to look Mac in the eye? She couldn’t, in good conscience, blithely enjoy her friendship and pretend she knew nothing about Craig’s one-nighter with Ash. But what should she do? Ignore what Ash had told her and hope for the best?
Anjuli rubbed her temples, imagining the fall out.
“If the shit hits the fan you’ll have to choose,” Ash said grimly. “Her, or me, and I’d like to think you’ll be on my side.”
“You’re my sister,” Anjuli said. “But Mac and I have been friends for years, and she’ll need a shoulder to cry on when she finds out. Because you know she will. One day.”
“And you think she’ll want your support? I know her type. As soon as her idyllic world collapses she’ll hate everyone and everything in it. You especially, since you’re my sister.”
Anjuli rubbed her temples, hating the feeling of betrayal in her gut. She hadn’t slept with Craig, but she felt as if she might as well have. Much as she hated the thought, she couldn’t spend time with Mac, knowing what she did.
“You have to promise me something else,” Ash said, recovering her usual insouciance. “If anything happens to me you’ll keep The Far Pavilions or any other book by M. M. Kaye out of Mum’s reach. Have you seen some of the names in those things?”
Anjuli frowned. “What do you mean, if anything happens to you?”
“Don’t freak out, okay?” Ash said, eying her worriedly. “I’ve got high blood pressure and Dr. MacDonald told me to take it easy. The baby is small, and I’m twenty-two weeks gone, but I have to make it another ten at least, for us to stand a good chance.”
Us? Instant panic at the thought of losing Ash seized Anjuli by the throat and she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t lose her sister—she couldn’t! She grasped Ash and drew her close, hugging her so tightly she shook off her embrace.
“Hold in the hysterical, sis,” she ordered. “I’m not going anywhere. The good news is you can have as many shifts as you want.”
“And here I thought you were trying to help me out,” Anjuli said, clamping down on her worry.
“I work more hours, and do cooking,” Viking announced. He looked like one of his namesakes, bent on trouble.
“Just what is your problem, big guy?” Ash said crossly. “Don’t women get pregnant in Krakow?”
“Married first, to good man, not...irre...irre...” He let out a strangled expletive, half-Polish, half-English.
“Irresponsible bastard who doesn’t deserve to live?” Anjuli supplied.
“Tak.”
Ash cleared her throat. “So now that’s clarified, we need to talk shop. It’s going to be packed tonight. Our scrumptious new vicar is celebrating Hazel William’s marriage. She’s on number two, and the low budget means no dance. Guests are bound to drift in here after supper. That means more drinks than food so both of you are on bar duty unless I need help in the kitchen.” Ash waggled her brows at Anjuli. “Damien is coming, Babes, so put some lipstick on. And do something with that hair. I think he’s worth the effort.”
Anjuli heaved an audible sigh. “Is everybody in this town a matchmaker now?”
“I’m your sister. Foisting men on you is one of the perks.”
“No need,” she said sourly. “Mrs. P. is already planning a wedding for Rob and me—or maybe for him and Sarah, after what she just heard.”
“Sarah’s perfect for Rob, and she looks fast on her feet,” Ash said, sweeping her palm through the air. “I can see it now. Rob at the church with everybody waiting, cars still running outside in case bride number two does a runner. I bet you she wouldn’t though. She’d be too keen to get his toned arse to the honeymoon suite.”
With an effort, Anjuli stifled the things she could say about Sarah and arses and honeymoon suites. “You’re not going to make me jealous or set me up with Damien. His idea of friendship is trying to steal a kiss every time we see each other—vet appointments, lunch on the green and even yesterday, when we bumped into each other at Johnston’s DIY. The man has a one-track mind.”