I was as still as a statue, taking in everything that he had said. I shouldn’t have let myself be affected, but I couldn’t help it. I remembered some of what Tink was telling me: the fingers brushing across my face, the small laughs, the protective embrace and the crestfallen expression on his rugged face as we pulled away from the curb.

What did it mean? Did it mean anything at all? No, his reluctance at going to the hospital confirmed that.

“Tink, it’s nothing. If he was so worried he would have took me to the hospital himself,” I argued.

My frazzled bestie frowned at my words. “He talked to me about that just before I got into the car. He said that he didn’t want it to be a circus, and that it would have been with him there. Said that he can’t go anywhere anymore without causing riot and that your health was the priority and an impromptu autograph signing would distract the doctors from focusing all their attention on you.” Tink looked away and then back to me. “Tate told me something else too. He said that Tudor hates hospitals.”

I sighed. “Well who likes them?”

Tink shook his head. “No, Wil, like he can’t go in them without freaking out. He didn’t say why, but I have a feeling there’s more to it than just a general dislike. Tate made it seem that he’d react like trying to get a Geordie lass to step out of the house with non-fake-tanned naturally pale skin – an absolute no go!”

He moved to kneel at the bath by my head. “Wil, I don’t know if you should have anything to do with him. Something feels off to me, he seems too locked up, too distant, and the way he looks at you scares me – it’s possessive, bordering on obsessive. There’s more to Mr. North than we could ever know, and I want you to stay away for your sake. If not yours, then for mine.”

“Tink, I can guarantee you that Tudor North is not interested in me, and I have only known him for a grand total of, what? Eighteen hours? I am not putting myself down when I say this, but I am fully aware that I am not Miss. Universe and that people like Tudor North do not look at and desire people like me. I think he was just looking out for his sister by helping her clumsy teacher who he keeps unfortunately running – or should I say ploughing – into. It’s impossible that he would feel that way for me, just… impossible. I’m not being a Debbie Downer but him liking me will never happen. We are in two different leagues. But on the off-chance of him liking me, my new-found lifestyle would encourage me to go for it, would it not?” I joked.

Tink rubbed both of his hands over his face. “You’re wrong, Wil. I know it. He likes you, and stop thinking that way about yourself. You may not see all the beautiful in you, but I do, and so do an army of others, including one Tudor North. I know you want to live more freely, but that guy... I don't know, something is just off about him.”

“Tink, babe, let’s leave it there,” I said, patting his hands. “Nothing will happen and nothing is happening between us now. It’s just been a crazy couple of days, that’s all. We’ve had more excitement in the last forty-eight hours than I think we have ever had in our lives and we are getting carried away with it all,” I soothed.

Tink sighed and flicked my nose. “You are wrong, missy. But I’ll let it go… for now,” he smiled and kissed my head. “What do you say we get you out of this bath, throw on our onesies and settle down to watch an entire series of Grey’s Anatomy?” He pretended to fan himself at the thought of all those doctors.

I nodded once and giggled at his antics. “I’m in.”

In celebration of our move to Calgary, Tink and I had made an impulsive purchase of novelty adult baby-grows – onesies – to brave the winter nights. Both had feet and hoods and were made of the warmest fleece material.

My onesie was, you guessed it, a pig with a snout, ears, spiral tail and trotters. Tink’s was a replica of Peter Pan’s Tinkerbell costume, complete with glitter wings and a hood which looked like a blonde chignon hairstyle when erect.

We had settled on the sofa and were ogling McDreamy, McSteamy, McArmy and McBlue-eyes (our given title for Dr. Avery), with Tink bringing me a bag of frozen peas every two hours to put on my bump to numb the pain. We were ploughing through the box set, but the clock only read seven p.m. It was officially the longest day of my life.

I got to my feet to visit the little girls’ room whilst Tink was re-freezing the bag of peas. I had made it all of three slow, painful steps when there was a knock at the door. I walked to the hallway and opened the giant oak-and-steel door to find Tate – looking dapper dressed in a black blazer, dress jeans, a white shirt and his staple red dickey bow –with two bunches of colourful flowers in his hands.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” I exclaimed as Tink came bolting around the corner, looking as though he was going to bollock me for getting up without his assistance. When he caught sight of Tate his face broke from an annoyed scowl into a sunny, happy grin.

Tate looked up shyly. “Hey, guys,” he said with a wave of the flowers, passing one ridiculously huge bunch to me and one to Tink.

“I got you these,” he said, kissing us both on the cheek. He lingered a touch longer than was really necessary on Tink’s.

“Honey, what you doing here?” asked my giddy pal, waving his arm to welcome him inside whilst smelling his gorgeous bouquet of pink and white roses.

Tate looked to something at his side, the large second half of the double front door blocking my view. “We just came to see if you were okay,” he said to me, interrupting me gazing adoringly at my favourite flowers in the whole world – sunflowers.