Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Zara
I leave Eloise’s smart terrace the following morning, a bag of clothes in my arms. “Take everything,” she insisted when I asked her for help with my wardrobe dilemma, piling up shorts and tops and dresses until the bag was almost overflowing.
The only problem is that she’s a bit shorter than I am, so I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to use. But I appreciate her, so much.
I already feel better, a night spent in her comfortable guest room followed by breakfast with a giggling Arthur doing wonders to lift my mood.
I still hurt, but with the morning comes clarity, and I can see my relationship with Dean for what it was.
Not much at all, really. I was already mourning what we had, long before he betrayed me, hanging on to the dream of our summer romance instead of seeing the reality of winter.
I was such an idiot. But that’s what love is, I suppose. A fool’s game.
I don’t know whether I’m going to take Eloise’s advice, but at the same time, the thought of falling into bed with someone and having it just be for fun is pretty tempting. Maybe it’s a rebound thing, maybe I’m more messed up than I think I am, but I feel free.
So, while it still hurts, I try to hold onto that. The fact I’m going to Morocco, even if it is with Myles, is exciting too. I’ve wanted to travel for so long but kept putting it off. I know it’s a work trip, but I should have a bit of free time to explore.
Myles is another knot I need to unpick, though.
He’s had an effect on me since the moment I first met him and, even though he can be grumpy at times, I can’t help feeling some sort of strange connection with him.
It was muted by my feelings for Dean but, now that they’ve been blown to smithereens, it feels more intense.
The thought of going away with him, of it just being the two of us, is giving me butterflies.
It’s obviously just some sort of weird nervous thing because we spend so much time together, that’s all, and now we’ll be somewhere outside of the office.
The bus trip back to my place passes in a blur of grey streets.
But my thoughts are on a sunlit north African coast. Going away with my grumpy boss will be fine, because I’m the last person he’d be interested in.
Despite my nerves about spending a week with Myles, I’m excited.
I’m even going to withdraw some of my precious savings.
Not a huge amount but enough, hopefully, to buy something like a colourful rug for my room.
A memory of a time when impossible things became real.
I get off the bus early, stopping in at one of my favourite charity shops, where I pick up three new romance novels and an embroidered cotton blouse.
Hopefully, between that and Eloise’s stuff, I’ll have enough to last the week.
I hug the bag to me as I head down the street, anticipation curling in my stomach.
Eloise is right. This is exactly what I need. Time away to sort myself out.
I stop off at the chemist and pick up my prescription. I’ve been on the pill for a few years now, mainly to manage terrible periods. I’m not due on, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. One less thing to worry about when I’m there.
Once I get home, I dump Eloise’s clothing on the bed and start to go through everything, adding the occasional item to my open case.
I can do this. I can spend a week with Myles in a beautiful exotic country, and keep it professional, while also possibly having a rebound fling with someone. It’s all going to be fine.
I tell myself the same thing when I come back from lunch on Monday and see Myles, clad in another of his beautifully cut suits, standing by my desk. He’s been in meetings all morning, so this is the first time I’ve seen him all day.
The news is out in the office now, people stopping by my desk or waylaying me in the break room to talk about the trip, saying if only I had half your luck or similar. Georgia and I catch up in the break room, and she says nothing at first, just gives me a hug.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, honestly.” It’s almost true. There’s still a hollowness inside me. But I’m trying to hold on to that feeling of relief, of freedom. “Especially now the hangover is gone.”
She giggles. “I called in sick Friday,” she says. “Needed the weekend to recover. You were brilliant, though. My friends want to know when you’re coming out again.”
“When I get back from this trip, let’s do something.”
I leave the break room feeling confident. I can do this. But, as Myles beckons me into his office, I feel suddenly nervous around him.
The door closes behind us.
Oh, I need to snap out of this. I can’t do my job, for starters, if I can’t be around him.
But I do need to make sure I give myself the space I need to do so.
I’ve already amended as much as I can about the travel arrangements, keeping a professional distance from him.
There’s no reason he should be making my breath shorter, that I should feel somehow apprehensive.
Yet, as he sits behind his desk, motioning for me to take one of the comfortable leather seats opposite, I can’t help my flicker of nerves.
Myles
“What do you mean, you’ll meet me there? The car is booked already. We’ll just come and collect you.” Irritation flares in my chest.
Zara, sitting opposite me, her long legs crossed, seems back to her usual self.
Almost. There are dark circles under her eyes, and the light in her face is somehow dimmed.
Something has happened, but I don’t know how to ask what’s wrong without prying.
It’s as though asking her to accompany me to Morocco has unleashed a floodgate of emotion, and I find myself attuned to her every mood, every change, in a way I wasn’t before.
I want to kill whoever hurt her. The strength of it surprises me. I tell myself I’d be the same if it were Eloise in here with me, if someone had upset her. Even though I know that’s not true.
“I’d prefer to make my own way. If that’s all right?” Zara lifts her chin slightly. “And… I’m sorry about Friday. I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Her hands are twisted together in front of her, but otherwise she seems calm. I’m the opposite. As the date for our trip draws near, I find myself thinking more and more about being alone with her in Morocco. About what could happen.
I know. I’m supposed to keep it professional. But the closer it gets the more my imagination is going wild, taking me to places where I have her beneath me or above me, where her body is open to mine. I need to rein this in or I won’t even make it through the flight in one piece.
Katya keeps calling. And I keep ignoring her. I’m done with her, and she needs to get the damn message. At least I won’t be here next week if she decides to show up in a thong and robe. Security can deal with her.
“I’ll meet you at the airport,” Zara says. Still cool, except for the faint hint of pink in her cheeks.
“If you’re sure?”
“I am.”
“It’s an early flight.”
“I don’t mind.”
I don’t know why I’m pushing this so much.
If she wants to meet me at the airport, then that’s what she should do.
I try to tell myself it’s because I’m worried about her missing the flight, not because I can’t wait to be alone with her.
We’re flying by private jet anyway, but we do have a take-off slot booked and I don’t want to miss it. “And you have everything ready?”
“Just about.” The pink disappears from her cheeks as we move onto more familiar ground.
I can almost feel the shift in her. “All the paperwork is in place, you have appointments lined up with artisans in Agadir, Taghazout and Marrakech, the hire car is confirmed, and all the accommodation. You have three business meetings, one to discuss renewables projects, one with the Surf Expo people, and the third with coastal development officials. I imagine we’ll schedule more once we get there. ”
“And surf time?”
“Plenty of surf time,” she replies. One corner of her mouth curves for a moment, just a flicker of movement. I’m mesmerised by it. I want to kiss it.
Yeah, this will be fine.