Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
WILL
Day Nine
‘Hello, Will Cooper here, drunk on wine and trying not to overthink my decision to finally move on from my ex and potentially having feelings for my old best friend.’
‘Will, where the hell are you?’
Clive.
I cough, covering my naked body with my towel, as if he might be able to see me. An older gentleman splashes into the pool like an inconsiderate bastard and I throw him daggers.
‘Hi, Clive.’ I do my best croak. ‘How are you?’
‘Did you say you were drunk on wine?’
Note to self: always check caller ID.
‘It’s the delirium.’
‘You’re still sick? What is it?’
‘A cough,’ I say, and cough for good measure. ‘Sneezing. The flu. I think it might be something bad.’
‘You realise we are behind on paperwork?’
I shudder at his inflections. His attitude is enough to make me want to be sick right here and now. I feign a sneeze, right as the man in the pool heaves himself out to only jump in all over again.
‘I’m sure it can wait.’
‘Can it?’ Clive asked. ‘I suppose you will be in on Monday?’
Considering I still have sixteen days here, it isn’t looking likely.
‘Um, yeah, sure,’ I say. ‘Well, I can try. Um, if I’m not, is there someone who can take over?’
Clive sighs, like I’ve punched his great-grandfather.
‘We are stretched very thin. I’d hoped we wouldn’t need someone to do that.’
Because it’s boring, I wanted to say. Unimportant.
The company will not fall apart without my paperwork that no one reads.
I cough again for dramatic effect.
‘I’ll keep you posted, Clive,’ I croak. ‘Any news on whether or not my job is safe?’
Clive hangs up, leaving me naked on my sunlounger.
I readjust the towel that I used to cover myself, noting that my skin is tanning, which is surprising to me, because normally it burns. How will I explain that to Clive? How could I tell him that I summoned the courage to get nude in public?
I flip through a Jackie Collins book, feeling the breeze of the pages on my stomach.
How did I ever think it plausible that I could leave work for such a long time with a bloody cold?
No doctor would vouch for me, and I’m pretty sure pretending to get a doctor’s note is against the law.
Fraud comes to mind, and, like, that’s bad.
So, what could I possibly do?
Lie?
Work from Athens?
But working from home is off the cards, because apparently everyone can work from home except for Clive and I.
The only option is for the flu to get worse.
Or ignore Clive.
Yes.
Ignoring problems is my specialty.
‘Jesus, Ollie, what the hell are you doing here?’
I throw the towel over my naked body once more, the sunlounger clacking as I move, almost repeating the incident of it eating me alive.
Ollie hovers at the bottom of my bed, sunglasses pushed up onto the top of his head.
His eyes bore into mine, steadfastly looking only at me, and not at the naked people around us.
‘I was in the area.’
Ollie perches on the end of my bed, and it moves dangerously. His hands splay out, as if to steady himself.
‘Weight distribution, move up a bit.’
I move my feet so that he can move closer, and he turns to the side, looking down at the floor. ‘You enjoying yourself?’
‘You’ve seen me naked before.’
Ollie blushes. ‘Yeah.’
‘But obviously now…’
‘Right.’
‘I mean, you did come to my nudist hotel.’
‘All right, Will, I know.’
‘Hello.’
I freeze, turning as if in slow motion. Lydia stands before us, thankfully clothed. ‘Hi.’
‘This is him?’ She points at Ollie, staring at me.
‘Uh… Hi,’ Ollie says.
‘Do you want me to remove him?’
‘What?’ I ask.
‘Is she for real?’ Ollie asks.
‘Is this man bothering you?’ she asks this to Ollie.
‘I came to see him.’
‘Oh, is that so?’ Lydia places her hands on her hips. ‘And what are you talking about?’
‘Lydia, please. None of your business,’ I say.
But Lydia takes it upon herself to sit across from us, eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve been told all about you.’
Ollie leans back. ‘By Will?’
‘Oh, yes, by Will. You have a history?’
My hand covers my face. ‘Lydia, please.’
‘You’re telling people about me?’ Ollie asks.
‘I’d rather not go over this—’
‘You should have seen his booking. It was tragic.’
Ollie laughs. ‘How so?’
‘Right, Lydia. Don’t you have, like, reception duties?’
Lydia sniffs. ‘Yes. I wasn’t supposed to. Last minute change.’
‘Then, go. I promise Ollie is not bothering me, and I am not bothering him. This is my friend and he has come to pay me a friendly visit.’
Lydia looks between us, clearly not convinced. Finally, she stands. ‘You are very handsome.’
She smiles at Ollie, then leaves.
‘What the…’ Ollie begins, looking shellshocked.
‘That’s Lydia. She’s lovely.’
‘What have you said about me, then?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘You told her I was your friend.’
‘Should I not have?’
‘Will…’
‘I know.’
‘Look, I’m not saying we have to be best friends, and we’re going to have to relearn how we talk to one another,’ Ollie says, and I cross my arms. ‘We’re in new territory here, but the main thing is I’d like for us to work on our friendship.’
His hand hovers above my knee, but he moves it away, as if thinking better of it.
A breeze ruffles his wavy hair, the top buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up. His style has changed over the years, I think. He wouldn’t be out of place in a gentleman’s club. It’s not the same style he had when we were together, but things change. Clearly.
I’m realising that I need to change.
He cricks his neck, leaning back. ‘Look, I don’t need an answer right away, but I would appreciate one, like, today.’ He rubs his arm, before tugging on his earlobe. ‘You see … uh, we’ve lost the person who was going to marry us, and—’
‘Oh, no.’
‘And I remember seeing on your socials that you did that celebrant course, which surprised me, all things considered, but—’
‘Ollie.’
‘And I can’t find anyone to marry us at this short of notice. Not in the height of summer.’
I stand, towel falling from me, and Ollie gawps, eyeline with my waist. He covers his eyes, and I don’t know whether or not to be offended or to laugh. I cover myself with my hands, before snatching up my towel and wrapping it around my waist.
‘You can’t ask me to marry you.’
Ollie stands, hands clasped together. ‘Will, please. Please. I’m desperate.’
I’m too hot. I want to shed my skin. Going to the wedding is hard enough, but marrying them?
‘It wouldn’t be legally binding. I did that celebrant course years ago. I don’t even know if I would remember—’
‘That’s fine. Honestly, fine. I need someone to marry us, Will, and you know what you’re doing, and I wouldn’t want anyone else marrying us.’
I could point out that he’s already said he’s tried to find a replacement. I could point out that I am clearly his last resort. I could also point out that he’s asking me – his ex – to marry him to someone else who doesn’t even know that I’m Ollie’s ex.
‘Like I say, you don’t have to let me know right away.’ Ollie barely pauses for breath. ‘But it would massively help me be less stressed if I knew I had someone showing up to do the most important bit.’
I clutch my towel, staring at the lapping water, shaking my head. There’s a ringing in my ears that I can’t shake.
Ollie steps closer, close enough for me to smell his new cologne. I think about how Alec must be used to it, but to me it’s like a new flavour. ‘I know you might have your doubts. I know it’s an impossible situation to be in. But you said you wanted to be friends … and right now I need a friend.’
I finally look at him, his downtrodden expression. Up close, I can see the tiredness in his eyes, the morning shadow on his face. ‘You can’t find anyone else?’
Ollie hovers, and I can almost see him trying to think up an excuse as to why I’m not his last resort. ‘You’re my last shot.’
My phone buzzes. I close my eyes.
Maybe it’s Clive. Maybe he has a secret Instagram, and he’s seen my photos.
‘I’ll let you think about it, okay?’ Ollie asks. ‘If you can’t do it, I’ll work something out.’
‘What if I can’t do it?’
‘I’ll work something out.’
‘But what if you don’t?’
Ollie picks at his fingers, a habit I remember he had when he was turning in his final project. ‘We’d have to cancel.’
Cancel. Cancel the whole thing. It’s what I wanted, right? To see them call off the wedding? If I say no, it will happen. It will be over.
My phone buzzes again.
Looking at the screen, I see a text from Sam.
‘Let me think about it,’ I finally say.
Ollie sighs. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’
He trod away, his back hunched, and I sink back onto the lounger. I pick up my phone, the text message revealing itself.
Mum needs a model for her art class. I’m too nervous. Maybe you can do it?
The wine, or maybe the need for a distraction, typed for me.
I’m in!
And I sent a love heart and a kissing face, because why the hell not?