Chapter 39
Max
Doily is one of those people who, once you’ve accepted their basic level of insanity, nothing they say or do surprises you.
Even so, I can’t say I saw her turning her back on showbiz for a retired air traffic controller from Horsham.
She invites us to join them for dinner, but I want to leave them to their cassoulet and whatever else they’ve got planned.
I should be feeling inspired. Doily and my dad are proof that romance is possible against the odds.
But this is no longer a question of beating the odds. Hunter and I need the stars to align.
We both know he nailed his audition. I try to come up with various ways that he could get the role and we could stay together, but they all come back to the same caveat – I’d have to give up my dream of being a diplomat.
There’s just no way that both of us can pursue our ambitions and be in the same location.
Living with him has taught me that’s how I want to be in a relationship.
I don’t want our lives to be spread across two countries or cities, constantly trying to squeeze each other in.
I want intimacy. Routine. The life I’ve had with Hunter for the past few weeks.
Impossible, in other words.
Of course, if I don’t get this Athens job, it won’t be an issue.
But seeing Hunter so engaged and motivated only confirms how much I want that for myself.
I’m surprised I still haven’t heard back from the assessment weekend.
Then, on my way to work the next morning, I log into my email and find one from the selection committee.
I’ve been invited to interview in Athens.
It’s hard to know what I feel in that moment. My stomach does a flip, part exhilaration, part dread. For years I’ve pictured this moment, stepping into the big leagues, but instead of a rush of triumph, there’s a weight pressing down on me. I should be elated, but it’s clear why I’m not.
Athens means distance. Distance from Hunter.
Athens means no more us.
Not that making the final stage means I’m going to get the job. Whoever else has been chosen is bound to be a strong contender.
When I arrive at the office, the first person I see is Quentin. He looks like he’s in a terrible mood. Damn. If he hasn’t made the final cut for Athens, I’ll almost feel bad for him. He wants this job just as much as I do.
I cross over to Mariam, since I can’t resist gloating that I’ve made it to the final stage. She’s at her desk staring at her computer, looking vaguely stunned.
‘It’s done,’ she says without looking up.
‘What is?’
‘The trade deal. We’ve agreed the fine print. It’s being published tomorrow.’
She looks bereft. No doubt she will be assigned a new project within the next few days or weeks, but until then, she has no idea what to do with herself.
‘Did you see the final shortlist for the Athens job?’ I ask.
‘I did.’
I wait for her to congratulate me. Nothing.
I glance over at Quentin, who’s continuing to sulk at his desk.
‘I take it Quentin didn’t make the cut.’
‘No, he did,’ says Mariam.
Huh. Now I’m even more confused.
‘So it’s between me and him?’
‘Yes,’ Mariam says pointedly. ‘You were always the favourites.’
Is she seriously not going to congratulate me? A switch flips inside me.
‘You know, I have never understood why you don’t want me to get this promotion.’
Mariam is taken aback.
‘You’ve never once encouraged me. You’ve always backed Quentin. I don’t get it. What does he have that I don’t?’
Mariam glances around, then lowers her voice. ‘Wrong way round.’
I frown in confusion.
‘It’s not that I want him to get it. It’s that I don’t want to lose you.’
I’m momentarily speechless.
‘Quentin has never brought much to this role when he’s not being handheld by Flora. But you . . . on a good day, you’re brilliant.’
I cannot believe this. ‘I . . . no.’
‘What do you mean, no?’ says Mariam. ‘It’s a compliment!’
‘Just because you think I’m good doesn’t mean you get to keep me indefinitely. I have my own ambitions.’
I’m worried that I’ve pushed it too far, but Mariam doesn’t look annoyed. If anything, she’s impressed.
‘I’ve always known you had your own ambitions,’ she says. ‘I just never thought I’d see you stand up for yourself.’
The conversation with Mariam leaves me rattled.
She seemed to genuinely think I’d be flattered, but how can I be when she’s effectively been rooting against me?
She can’t just hang onto me permanently because it makes her life easier.
It’s outrageous when you think about it.
But this is not a country that values ambition.
Yet another thing that I love about Hunter.
I’m tempted to go and speak to Quentin, but I decide I’d better let him stew in whatever’s bothering him for a little while longer.
I cross over to my regular desk, barely glancing at the random woman sitting in Nessie’s usual place.
It’s only after I sit down that I do a double take and realise that the random woman is—
‘Nessie?’
Nessie looks up from her computer. She’s had her hair straightened.
‘Any better?’ she asks bashfully.
That’s putting it mildly.
‘So much better.’
Nessie smiles in relief. ‘Max, I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you were honest with me. It really inspired me.’
‘Yeah, you look great.’
‘I’m not talking about that. I texted my friends, the ones I went on the hen party with. I came up with a reason why each of them was more boring than I am.’
Nessie gets out her phone and proudly reads me the reasons, which include the fact that one of them has only ever done missionary position with her boyfriend, one of them forced everyone to join an app to track their hormone levels, and one of them spent twenty minutes telling the group which hairdryer she decided to buy.
It’s the least Nessie thing I’ve ever heard, and I love her for it.
Suddenly it feels ridiculous that I’ve shared her whole journey but I haven’t told her even a hint of what I’ve been going through myself.
‘Hey,’ I say impulsively. ‘Do you want to grab lunch later?’
Nessie says yes like she’s been waiting for me to ask for years.
Honestly, I can’t wait to spill the beans and get her perspective.
I don’t expect it all to be positive – I have lied to her, after all – but I can take it.
Learning to be more honest is about what I share with others, but it’s also about what I’m able to receive.
I wonder how differently things would have turned out if Nessie had been in on it from the start.
If I’d gone for lunch with her the day after Buckingham Palace and told her what I was planning, would she have advised me against getting a fake boyfriend?
And if I had, would I be in a better or worse position than I’m in now?
I’ve grown so much over the past few weeks that it’s hard to have any regrets.
But the dilemma I’ve ended up in is torture.
At least I’m no longer the kind of person who keeps it all to himself.
As the morning ticks to a close and I prepare to head out to lunch with Nessie, I look at my phone and see a message from Hunter:
You need to come home. Now.