Chapter 4

FOUR

It didn’t matter to Stacey that she still felt half asleep. She didn’t care that her side of the bed was probably still warm. What mattered was that she and Devon still loved each other enough to want to share every moment they could. Even if that meant her crawling out of bed at an obscene time to share a coffee with her wife before she headed out for an early shift. The role of immigration officer had even less respect for the weekend than her own job did.

‘So, what are you doing today?’ Devon asked, reaching for her lunch box from the fridge.

‘Oh, I’m gonna let myself come round slowly.’

‘You mean you’re off back to bed?’ Devon asked with amusement.

‘And then fix myself a light breakfast.’

‘Jam on toast in bed?’

‘Then I’ll probably do some housework.’

Devon laughed. ‘We both know that’s an outright lie.’

Stacey accepted the judgement. It wasn’t that she didn’t clean; it just wasn’t high on her list of priorities. Luckily it wasn’t a deal-breaker in their marriage.

‘Then I might watch some educational television.’

‘Real housewives of somewhere.’

‘Maybe talk to friends.’

‘Ring Alison and talk about the latest episode of real housewives of somewhere.’

From Stacey’s laughter, Devon would know she was translating accurately.

‘Then I’ll grab some lunch.’

‘You’re going to your mum’s for Sunday dinner? Shit, Stace, that one hurts the most.’

Stacey knew that Devon loved her mum’s cooking as much as she did. Luckily, her mum knew it too.

‘You know she’ll make you a plate for me to bring back.’

‘And that thought alone will get me through my shift,’ Devon said, grabbing her backpack before planting a kiss on Stacey’s lips. ‘Okay, babe, have a good day.’

‘Missing you already,’ Stacey said as Devon headed to the hallway for her coat and scarf.

Stacey allowed a sigh of contentment to leave her lips. There was no doubt she would have preferred Devon to not be at work, but she’d be home by teatime and they’d have a nice long night together.

She was just deciding whether to have a snooze in bed or make the jam on toast now when her phone dinged a notification.

Her breath caught. The boss was posting in the team group.

Two words.

‘Okay, hun, I’m off so?—’

‘One sec, Dee, can you give me three minutes and then drop me off at work?’

She fled to the bedroom already knowing what the answer would be. It wouldn’t take her any longer than those three minutes to get ready for the message that simply read: Station. Now.