Chapter 6
KIT
Well, that didn’t end the way I was hoping it would.
I think in my semi-intoxicated state I’d had a mad idea about proving to her she was better off without that loser, Adrian. That there are far better lovers, better men. Like me.
But, whatever. There was no way I was going to push her to carry on. She’s clearly having a hard time getting past the emotional havoc that shithead wreaked on her and I don’t want to add to that.
I’m pretty sure her agreeing to come back to mine this evening wasn’t all about getting one over on her prick-of-an-ex though.
I got a good boost to my self-esteem anyway, from knowing she still finds me attractive. That there’s definitely still a connection there.
Even though things hadn’t finished badly, five years ago, I’d still been a bit cut up that it hadn’t worked out between us.
I’d really liked her. Unfortunately, she’d wanted to get more serious and I really wasn’t in the market for that kind of commitment at the time.
I wanted to live large during my uni years. At least, that’s what I’d told myself.
I’d thought about her a lot after we split though and wondered whether I should have tried harder to make it work.
Still, no point in hanging on to regrets, as I pointed out earlier.
Shame I didn’t get to make her come tonight though. I’d always loved seeing her lose it after holding herself back so tightly. That had been a big part of the fun when we used to have sex – the teasing and the winding each other up and the battling to get the other to relent and let go.
Anyway, I’m choosing to take this evening as a positive healing experience, just like my therapist would encourage me to. I’m moving on with my life. Forging ahead. Re-discovering the fun.
I’ve lived with the shitty way I’ve been feeling since Katya left for long enough. It’s time to concentrate on my emotional wellbeing now.
With that in mind, as soon as I wake up the next morning, I go straight out to the pool and do fifty lengths, then scoff down the meal that’s been laid out in the dining area of the apartment for me.
It’s a traditional bento breakfast and it’s a thing of beauty, with each small dish presented on its own tiny, delicate plate or bowl.
There are colourful pickles to go with the grilled fish, curls of crispy seaweed, pretty pink and white narutomaki fish cakes, steamed rice and a cup of miso soup to wash it all down with, followed by green tea.
I feel positively healthier after eating it all.
After taking a quick shower I call my driver to pick me up and we head into the city.
I’m going to stay busy today. Focused on myself. Occupied.
* * *
The Kinkaku-ji temple in all its golden magnificence is a sight to see. The gold leaf it’s decorated with is so luminescent it hurts my retinas to look at it. Not that I can bring myself to look away.
And the gardens it’s situated in are fucking magnificent.
It’s dazzling here.
No wonder it’s such a popular place to visit.
Walking around it, I’m conscious that my skin feels prickly, in a weird kind of way.
Every time I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye, I get a rush of awareness all the way up my spine.
My brain keeps telling me I’m seeing Chloe in my peripheral vision, but whenever I allow myself to turn and look, it’s never her, just some other woman with hair a similar colour to hers or with her height and build.
It’s really busy here with European tourists too, so it’s happening constantly.
Leaving the temple, I go to buy some noodles from a pop-up food stall in a public park and eat them on one of the communal picnic benches, exchanging a few friendly words with a bunch of other tourists – something I’ve not done in a long time.
It brings it home to me that I spend most of my time now in exclusive, top-flight restaurants or behind roped-off VIP sections with other uber-wealthy people intent on removing themselves from the general public.
I’d forgotten what fun it could be to shoot the shit with a bunch of down-to-earth strangers.
After I finish eating, I go for a wander around the streets of Kyoto for another hour or so.
But nothing really grabs my interest.
I’m feeling oddly on edge, like there’s something else I should be doing – some unfinished business – and it’s messing with my head.
Eventually I think fuck this and head back to the hotel. Sightseeing was never my bag and it definitely isn’t today, not when I’m in this mood.
As I walk back through reception, I’m aware of a hubbub of noise coming from the direction of the bar. I stroll over, curious to see who’s in there and what’s going on.
It’s the group of women who smiled at me in the pool yesterday. They’ve all got cocktails in front of them and are laughing away at something one of them has said.
‘Hey, gorgeous, want to join us for a pre-dinner drink?’ one of the women calls, flashing me a brilliant smile. Her accent sounds Transatlantic American and she, like the rest of them, is clearly well monied judging by the way she’s dressed and styled.
I pause for a second, wondering whether it’s a good idea. But they all seem genuinely friendly and welcoming, and I’m definitely in need of a diversion right now, so I decide what the hell.
‘Sure. I’d love to,’ I say, strolling over to where they’re sitting.
The woman with perfectly styled red hair points to a free chair next to her. ‘Come sit with me,’ she purrs.
Walking round to the chair, I pull it out and sit down, turning to smile at them all in turn. There are seven of them in total.
Lucky seven.
‘Are you here on a hen do?’ I ask.
They all laugh uproariously at that. ‘Divorce party. Well, a week-long celebration of Tana finally getting free of her limp-dick of an ex-husband,’ the woman with a long shiny sweep of dark hair says, giving me a slow wink.
‘Are you from New York, by any chance?’ I ask with a grin.
She grins back. ‘Sure are. How about you, honey?’
I lean back in my chair and fold my arms. ‘London. I’m based in South Kensington right now but I’m selling up and moving out.’
‘Oh, yeah? Where to?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know yet. I’ll probably stay in central London but I’m taking some time out to think about it.’
‘Bad break-up?’ the woman with a sleek, honey-blonde bob asks me, her expression a mixture of sincere concern and intense curiosity.
‘Pretty bad. We were going to get married. It was her choice to end it.’
There’s a general murmur of condolence. ‘Sorry to hear that, sweetie.’
‘But now you’re here with your beautiful new girlfriend?’ a woman with shocking pink lipstick says from across the table.
I frown at her, confused. ‘Sorry?’
‘The woman you were with at the pool yesterday. Is she not your partner?’
I huff out a laugh, a strange sense of longing rushing over my skin. ‘She used to be. A long time ago. Not any more.’
They all look at me with surprise and curiosity on their faces. ‘Shame. You make a gorgeous couple,’ the redhead says.
‘I always thought so,’ I agree.
‘Ooh. There’s a story in there somewhere. Care to share it with us? We love a bit of gossip!’ the blonde says.
Again, I pause. But maybe talking about all this with a bunch of friendly strangers is exactly what I need right now.
It feels good to be the centre of attention anyway.
‘Let me get myself a drink and you all another round and I’ll tell you all about it,’ I promise, rising from the table and heading over to the bar.
* * *
Chloe
This is not how I expected my visit to Japan to go.
I was all set to spend the majority of it alone, processing my feelings about the end of my relationship with Adrian and coming to terms with the fact I’m now single – and free – though not in the place I thought I was going to be, both emotionally and physically, at this point in my life.
But no. Bloody Kit had to turn up and destroy my plans like the wrecking ball he is.
I don’t even know how to feel about what happened between us last night. At the time I wanted it to happen, so much, but now I’m wondering whether it was a huge mistake to let myself get so close to him again.
He’s always made my head spin. It was one of the reasons I split up with him five years ago.
I felt so out of control and consumed by my craving for him. It was disconcerting. Especially because he didn’t seem to feel the same way about me.
After giving myself a talking to, I pull it together and head into Kyoto to look around the centre of the city, trying to keep my mind on the things I’m seeing and experiencing, instead of how my body is still humming with a long-ignored need that Kit’s woken up in me.
It’s a buzzy city, full of tourists, many of them dressed in traditional kimonos with tabi socks and zori sandals, which I discover can all be hired for the day from a number of shops on the main streets.
I consider hiring an outfit myself, but decide against it for now. I’d feel a bit strange walking around in it on my own.
This, of course, makes me think about Kit again.
He’d probably be encouraging me to do it if he was here. He was always up for a laugh.
I think Adrian would have probably told me to go ahead and do it too, but he would have said it to indulge me, rather than actually understanding the fun I saw in it.
And he’d have been a bit uncomfortable walking around with me dressed like that.
He’s always been pretty reserved about how he – and by extension I – appear to other people.
I’ve found this frustrating at points, but I could usually jolly him out of it.
It was always an extra effort I could have done without though, if I’m being honest.
At the thought of Adrian, a wave of grief-tinged tiredness hits me from out of nowhere and I decide to call it a day on the sightseeing for now and head back to the hotel.
Perhaps I should take a quick nap, then have a swim before dinner. Pamper myself a little.