Chapter 16
16
KATE
I had a rubbish night’s sleep – unsurprising, really. By the time we’d squabbled over who got the super king – against my protestations, Willem insisted it be me, as he was the one who’d messed up the accommodation – and converted the sofa to a bed, making it up with the extra bedding, it was nearing midnight.
I used the bathroom first and while Willem was in there, I slipped beneath the covers and tugged them up to my chin like a child who’s afraid of the dark, then reached over and turned off the lamp.
So much for the sexy temptress who’d packed lingerie.
Willem emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, and before the flat was plunged into darkness, I got a peek of him in his boxer briefs through the bookcase. There was a rustle of bedding, then a deep, husky, ‘Goodnight, Kate. Sleep well.’
‘Uh, goodnight,’ I replied, instantly embarrassed by how squeaky my voice sounded. Willem either didn’t notice or was too polite to comment. Then I lay awake for a good hour while my monkey brain swung from one thought to the next, intermittently landing on questions I already knew the answer to.
Why did you agree to share a flat with Willem, rather than getting a hotel room?
All the better to ‘accidentally’ tumble into bed together…
Did you actually come to Verona for altruistic reasons?
Yes… No… Sort of.
Is it really a good idea to seduce the Norse god?
Probably not, but I’m entitled to a little fun.
How can this situation with Willem possibly turn out like you want it to?
I’ll never know if I don’t try.
And then the clincher, the thought that tormented me for the rest of the night:
He’s a decent bloke, Kate – kind, supportive, thoughtful… You can’t just shag him for a lark – despite what Margot says. One of you could end up hurt – you both could.
That’s the thing about self-truths: they have a way of working their way to the surface, no matter how hard you try to kid yourself.
And I can no longer ignore that I’m drawn to Willem for more than his looks. Which complicates this situation even further.
I’d lie here examining this conundrum further, but I’m desperate for the loo and I can’t tell if Willem’s awake. Will passing by his bed or closing the bathroom door wake him? I wait a few minutes longer, listening out for signs he’s awake, and when I can’t stand it any longer, I climb out of bed and tiptoe around the end of the bookcase into the lounge.
When I glance to my left, Willem is scrolling his phone, one arm behind his head. His eyes fix on mine and he smiles. ‘Good morning. I wasn’t sure if you were awake yet, so I was careful not to make any noise.’
‘Me too,’ I confess, ‘but I… uh…’ I point towards the bathroom. ‘I’m just going to…’
I rush across the room, conscious that I’m only wearing a nightgown – a short nightgown – and close myself in the bathroom. After weeing, I wash my hands and splash water on my face. I dry my hands and face and regard myself in the mirror. Not bad, I’ll admit. I’ve certainly looked worse in the morning. But before I go back out there, I quickly run my toothbrush around my mouth and rinse. It’s unlikely that Thor and I are going to lock lips any time soon, but if morning breath can be avoided, it should be.
When I open the bathroom door, I’m confronted with the aroma of coffee. I round the corner into the kitchen and Willem is at the coffee maker, wearing the jeans he had on yesterday and nothing else.
Fuck me – and I mean that both figuratively and literally, because even in profile, I can tell he’s got a muscular V that points to his groin.
As if you need directions, Kate.
‘That smells good,’ I say, passing by him to go to the fridge. Our host has been generous, supplying us with milk, cheese, and eggs.
‘They only have pods,’ he says apologetically, and I recall that he has a proper coffee machine back in Amsterdam.
‘That’s okay, I don’t mind. I could make some breakfast? There are eggs.’
He turns, and the full force of his potent gaze nearly knocks me off my feet.
‘I thought we could get an early start – have a quick coffee here, then stop somewhere for breakfast. Maybe get some real coffee,’ he adds with a slightly superior smirk. So, a coffee snob then. Honestly, I’m happy enough with Douwe Egberts. That’s all I have at home.
‘Oh, okay. Sounds good.’
He hands me a mug of coffee and I busy myself with adding milk, then offer it to him. He declines, instead adding some cold water from a bottle and drinking his black.
‘What time do you think Lucia will be at the gallery?’ I ask, purposefully avoiding looking anywhere below his neck. Though, he’s so handsome, it turns out to be a rubbish tactic for keeping my libido in check. Or my heart, which is now fluttering faster than a hummingbird’s wings.
‘Her website says 12p.m. but…’ He lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug.
‘Time is a little more fluid here than in the Netherlands?’ I ask.
‘That’s my experience. But, since you’ve never been here before, I’d really like to show you some of my favourite places before we go to the gallery.’
‘That’s— You don’t need to do that.’
‘Oh.’ His face falls. This obviously means more to him than I thought.
‘But, if you’re offering, then I’d love it. I mean, appreciate it. It’s such a beautiful city – from what I saw last night, and I’ve seen pictures and videos online, of course. And a couple of films that were set here.’
I sip my coffee, more to shut myself up than for the caffeine. I can tell he’s watching me. Probably wondering why I’ve suddenly been afflicted with verbal diarrhoea.
‘Good,’ he says, flashing a lipless smile. ‘Did you want to take the first shower?’ he offers.
‘Yep, great.’ I leave my half-drunk coffee and beeline to the bedroom area, where I quickly check the forecast, then cast my eyes over the contents of my case. Which of the outfits I’ve brought will be most suitable for sightseeing with a gorgeous Dutchman, then breaking a stranger’s heart?
I opt for light-blue linen palazzo pants, a white linen T-shirt, and espadrilles, which should be comfortable enough for walking on cobblestoned streets.
Twenty minutes later, I’ve showered and dressed, and as I apply my makeup, I try not to think about the naked man showering at the other end of the flat.
‘ Kate ,’ I say to myself in the mirror by the bed, ‘you’re here to break the bad news to Lucia. This isn’t a romantic getaway, you muppet.’
‘Sorry, were you talking to me?’ Willem calls out.
‘No, I uh…’ GAH! ‘Ready to go?’ I ask, hoping like hell he didn’t hear what I said.
‘Almost – just need to put my shoes on.’
While he does that, I quickly slick some gloss over my lower lip and press my lips together, then drop it into my handbag. I grab one of the two scarves I’ve brought and tie it around the bag’s strap, then slide my sunglasses onto my head like a headband. I slip the bag over one shoulder and join Willem in the lounge area.
Annoyingly, he looks great – and he’s only wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Faded jeans and a white T-shirt. I look down at my outfit, then back at him. Obviously realising the same thing, he starts chuckling.
‘We match.’
‘We do,’ I say.
‘Want me to change—’ He lifts the hem of his T-shirt.
‘ No .’
God, if I have to look at his bare torso for a second longer, I won’t be responsible for my actions.
He lets go of the T-shirt and eyes me curiously.
‘Sorry. It’s fine – let’s just go.’
I lead the way out of the flat into the crisp morning air. I really need to get a grip. Before meeting Willem, I was calm, articulate, measured… Now I sound like I’ve forgotten how to form a coherent sentence.
He must think I’m a moron.
That makes two of us.
* * *
After stopping at a local trattoria for espressos and ham and cheese polpettes – delicious savoury balls – we’ve spent the rest of the morning roaming the city, Willem in the lead and me following, open-mouthed.
It’s beautiful here.
Even something as simple as a row of houses, their cracked and patched brick and stucco facades a testament to the centuries they’ve endured, and their window boxes bursting with bright-red geraniums, is a thing of beauty.
I must have stared at the Duomo for a good five minutes, drinking in its imposing stature and the intricate tableaux of the stained-glass windows. And the view from Castel San Pietro was breathtaking – literally, as it sits atop a steep hill and we climbed the steps instead of taking the funicular. Verona is even more striking from on high, its centre densely packed, with a dozen spires dotting the skyline.
And the Adige River! Fast-flowing, icy-blue water spanned by the most incredible bridges. Pont Pietra, visible from the vantage point at the castle, was built two thousand years ago, with dozens of additions and fixes over the centuries. Up close, it’s a patchwork of stone and brick and it seems miraculous that it’s still standing.
Everything about this morning has been incredible. We’ve skirted through side streets, marvelling at the weathered wooden doors – or maybe that was just me – and wandered through piazzas, gazing up at marble statues, palatial staircases, and ornate balconies.
Every moment has been an excellent distraction from obsessing over the moment I will come face to face with Lucia.
Now we’re outside her gallery, both dumbstruck as we stare at the handwritten sign. Even in Italian, it’s easy to make out what it says – essentially, that the gallery is closed for the week, because Lucia is on holiday.
‘My Italian isn’t great – actually, it’s practically non-existent,’ I admit, ‘but that says what I think it says, right?’
‘Yes.’
We exchange a look, then Willem walks over and cups his hands against the glass door to peer inside. ‘Definitely closed,’ he says, stepping back.
‘So, what do we do now?’ I ask.
‘We go to her house.’
‘We can do that’ – I point to the sign, specifically to where it says ‘Mykonos’ – ‘but I doubt she’s going to be home.’
He expels a frustrated sigh. ‘You’re right.’
‘I suppose there are some things that even a tech genius can’t foresee.’
He gives me an odd, almost shy look. ‘I’m hardly a genius.’
‘I was talking about Marie.’
‘Oh.’
‘But you clearly have skills as well.’
‘Thank you – I think ,’ he teases, his blue eyes twinkling.
Oh god, here comes another heart flutter. I’ll need to see a cardiologist if this keeps up.
‘Look, we’ve been on our feet for hours,’ I say, trying to ignore my telltale heart. ‘What do you say we find somewhere to have lunch and figure out what to do next?’
‘Okay. But I would like to go to her house. Just to be sure.’
I stare at him a moment. The chances that Lucia is having a staycation and lied on her sign to throw people off her scent are almost nil. But we did come all this way. We might as well check her other known address.
‘All right, let’s go.’
He takes his phone out of his pocket and a moment later, looks up and says, ‘This way.’
* * *
‘Is it terrible that I’m relieved?’ I ask after we give our order to the waiter – a gruff man with a salt-and-pepper moustache and an obvious disdain for tourists.
‘That Lucia’s not in Verona?’ asks Willem.
I nod. ‘Although, it’s just kicking it into the long grass, isn’t it? I’ll have to come back at some point.’
‘ We will have to come back.’
I regard him closely, at war with myself. Do I want to spend more time with Willem? Absolutely. Should I be sorting out my disastrous love life before I even entertain thoughts about another man? Absolutely times two.
Was it therefore ridiculous of me to pack lacy knickers and condoms for this trip? Absolutely times a million.
‘Look, Willem, I really appreciate all your help, but you’ve already done so much. And that’s not counting showing me around Verona,’ I add with a smile, hoping to soften my words.
He studies me intently, his incredible blue eyes boring into mine. I almost lose my nerve and call for the bill. Right now, I’d like nothing more than to drag him back to our accommodation and use every square inch of that super king bed.
I clear my throat. ‘What I’m saying is?—’
‘Kate, I’m not going to abandon you.’
‘Abandon me? Letting me handle this myself isn’t abandoning me, Willem. I’m perfectly capable of breaking the news to Lucia by myself,’ I retort crossly.
His lifts both palms to placate me and I clamp my mouth shut before I give him a right bollocking.
‘I know you can do this by yourself, Kate. You’re intelligent and capable?—’
I scoff, cutting him off with a grunt.
‘What?’ he asks. ‘Is something funny?’
‘No, not funny – just you calling me “intelligent”.’
‘You are. You’re other things too, but your intelligence isn’t in dispute.’
‘He says to the woman who was duped by a con man.’
‘That’s not…’ He sighs. ‘I would like to go back.’
‘To the flat?’
Maybe he wants to ravish me on that giant bed. Gah, bloody inner voice – shut it!
‘No,’ he replies, ‘to the part of the conversation where you got angry with me.’
‘Oh, well, I wouldn’t say angry , more annoyed.’
His lips disappear between his teeth for a moment, and he stares at me intently before releasing them. ‘Kate, I want you to see this situation through my eyes.’
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Go ahead.’
‘A couple of months ago, Ady told me about Dunn – that she’d met this man, that he was older and different from the men she’d dated before – actually, they were more like “boys”,’ he says with a snort, and I recall what Adriana told me about her exes.
‘Anyway, at the time, I didn’t think much of it – Ady’s her own person. But then a few weeks ago, suddenly they’re engaged. Now that raised my suspicions. I hadn’t met him, our parents hadn’t met him… And they’d only been together, for what? Two months? That’s strange, right?’
I nod, even though Jon and I hadn’t been together long when I agreed to marry him – a little over three months. But even that was considered fast by most people’s standards. My parents apparently thought so, and Margot certainly did. She’s never shut up about it.
‘But when I initially looked into him,’ Willem continues, ‘I didn’t expect to find anything.’
‘Really?’ I ask.
‘Well, no, nothing like this. It was simply due diligence, a way to set my mind at ease. Like I said, I’ve always been protective of Ady, so I planned to conduct a cursory search, appease any concerns I had, and never mention it to Ady.’
‘And then you found me,’ I say quietly.
‘And then I found you. You may not need my help, Kate, but I wish you’d let me give it. Just like with Ady, I feel protective of you. Dunn is a horrible man, and I hate what he did to you – to both of you – and I want to play my part in exposing him. I want to make sure he never does this again.’
My breath hitches and I swallow the lump in my throat. I had no idea when I first laid eyes on Willem that he might become someone I felt emotionally safe with, but that’s what’s starting to happen.
‘That’s… I appreciate that, thank you.’
‘So, you’ll accept my help?’ he asks.
‘Sure,’ I reply.
One word, but it speaks volumes. Sure, Willem, I’ll let you adopt the role of big brother, vigilante, and protector of foolish women everywhere.
It’s probably for the best, him seeing me that way. Now I won’t be distracted by lustful thoughts of Willem – or romantic ones – while I excise Jon from my life.
Hah! If only that were true.