If I Were You

Chapter 56 Amy

The hotel has provided Molten Brown toiletries and a bottle of lavender-scented bath oil which, after I lower myself in the water to calm down, I wish had been bubble bath. Staring down at the unfamiliar flesh, the hairy chest, my new lower half, I cringe. Closing my eyes, I attempt to clear my mind but keep running through every part of this evening.

I can’t see beyond it: I’d seen the photos; Flynn hadn’t denied anything. He had never mentioned Charlie before: not a word. This thing is real and big and he’d completely failed to tell me any of it.

My dad was trustworthy, dependable. When he died I promised myself I wouldn’t settle for anyone less than him. In the last two years there have been so many moments when I’ve wondered whether Flynn was that guy. Yet there was something behind it all niggling at me, a voice asking why he wouldn’t let me delve too deep. I never imagined he’d be hiding something like this.

My heart aches when Flynn says or does things Dad would have liked. Encouraging me when I doubt myself, defending me even before he’s heard my side. In the last couple of weeks I kept fretting that Dad wouldn’t have liked him, with his posh education and his privileged upbringing, but I know that’s wrong. Dad would have loved the core of him. They are both kind men, they both loved me so much.

I shake my head at that last thought. All of this is irrelevant if I can’t trust him. And yet …

Skin wrinkling, I finally leave the bath, wrapping myself in towels and the dressing gown, putting my feet with Flynn’s horrible hairy big toes into the monogrammed hotel slippers.

Propping myself up in bed, I wait, looking around the room at the sumptuous suite we should have been enjoying as a couple. Snuggled up on the two-seater sofa, lounging in the bed, stepping out of the double glass doors to the balcony that looks out over the lake. Gazing across the bed now, at his empty side, I feel completely alone.

Worry presses down on my chest as my eyes start to droop, still wrapped in the towels and waiting for Flynn to return. He isn’t coming back. My weary eyes take in the time on the winking clock. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know where to get help.

Before I fall into an uneasy sleep, I know where I need to go when I wake up. There’s one thing I can try, at least.