Chapter 17
Lola woke with a raging headache, not because she’d drunk too much the night before, but because she’d cried herself to sleep.
She hated how Jarek had so easily got under her skin, and yet she was more upset about the sharp words she’d had with Rhys.
He’d only come to check on her and she’d reacted thoughtlessly.
She decided to skip breakfast, because she didn’t want to face him. A cowardly reaction, but her swirling emotions were too confusing to deal with.
Of course her friends noticed her absence and Sarah came knocking, finding her still in her room long after breakfast would have been cleared away. She sidled in with a plate of cornetto, a freshly made Italian version of a croissant, and a cappuccino.
‘I thought you might be hungry,’ she said, setting the plate and cup on the coffee table between the two armchairs that faced the garden.
She sat down in one of them and crossed her legs.
‘Lovers’ tiff last night?’ At Lola’s blank face, Sarah continued.
‘You left abruptly. Rhys followed soon after and came back with his tail between his legs.’
‘Oh no, it was nothing like that…’ Lola trailed off, but why the hell was she hiding what was going on?
Twice now in the last few weeks Jarek had contacted her at the times he knew he’d upset her the most, almost as if he was reminding her that wherever she went, he wouldn’t let her forget about him.
Why was she trying to deal with this on her own?
‘It was just I got a message completely out of the blue?—’
Sarah’s phone ringing stopped Lola short.
‘Hold on; it’s Harry. Sorry, I need to take this.’ Sarah stood up and answered her phone. ‘Everything okay, love?’ she asked as she headed into the garden.
Lola sighed but gratefully tucked into the pastries and coffee, slowly feeling more able to face the day as the caffeine began to work its magic.
She was even more grateful when Sarah didn’t return, but not because she didn’t want to talk.
The burning feeling of anxiety in her chest would only grow if she didn’t have an outlet, but Sarah wasn’t it, because she wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut to Deni, to Gareth – hell, to anyone, friend or stranger – and Lola didn’t want a whisper of Jarek to reach Mirabel’s ears.
But there was one person she could talk to, who happened to be the one person she needed to apologise to as well.
By late morning when a few of the friends, including Rhys, decided to go to Porto Cervo, Lola jumped at the chance to join them.
One of the most exclusive locations along the Costa Smeralda coast, it was a playground for the rich and famous.
Huge yachts were tightly packed together along the marina, which was thrumming with people in designer dresses and expensive linen suits.
There were plenty of tourists too, gawking at the wealth on display as they posed in front of yachts that must have been worth millions.
After exploring the town, they joined Mirabel at the florists to check all was in hand with the flowers for the wedding, then they ate a late lunch at a restaurant with a peaceful garden terrace that overlooked the marina.
With Sarah, Deni, Mirabel, Barnaby and Gareth’s company, any awkwardness with Rhys was erased as the friends laughed and chatted together while tucking into salmon carpaccio and red snapper tartare.
But the knot of tension returned with the realisation that the longer she left the conversation she needed to have with Rhys, the harder it would be to broach the subject of the kiss.
Even the thought sent heat rushing through her body, and it wasn’t just heading for her cheeks…
Lola dabbed her mouth with her napkin, drained the remainder of her grapefruit juice and leaned close to Rhys. ‘Can we talk?’ she asked him.
‘Of course,’ he said hesitantly.
‘I mean privately.’
Rhys had been subdued throughout lunch and that worried Lola as they left the others ordering more drinks and headed out of the restaurant onto the sunny square.
Rhys stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and they strolled in silence.
Lola barely took in their surroundings as her head whirred with the different ways she could start the conversation.
It was only when they’d walked for a good couple of minutes and reached the wide promenade lined with the gleaming white yachts that she finally plucked up the courage to speak.
‘About last night?—’
‘You don’t need to apologise, Lola.’ Rhys shrugged. ‘You were upset and I came to see if you were okay, but I probably overstepped, you know, in my role of pretend boyfriend’ – he gave her a sideways glance – ‘or whatever it is we are.’
‘No, you behaved like a friend and came to check if I was okay because you care. I shouldn’t have shut you out the way I did or snapped at you. You didn’t deserve that.’
They wandered along the promenade that was dotted with exclusive bars and seating areas right by the yachts – a perfect place to people-watch and be seen.
‘Is that what you wanted to talk about? What happened at the end of last night?’
‘Sort of.’
His stress on ‘the end of’ suggested he was differentiating it from what had happened earlier in the evening. He deserved an explanation about why she’d been short with him, but it was the kiss she really wanted to discuss.
At the end of the marina, they cut up some steps to a path that disappeared beneath the trees and was lined with street vendors selling jewellery.
They emerged into the sunshine and Lola found a spot to sit on a sun-baked wall.
It was calmer away from the bustle of tourists on the promenade, although there was still the constant chatter from people at the nearby bar, mixed with the rhythmic click of cicadas.
Lola tilted her head to the sun, breathed in the scent of honeyed flowers and decided to get the awkward conversation out of the way.
‘What I really wanted to talk about was what happened at the restaurant earlier in the evening.’
‘Ah, okay.’ Rhys braced his palms on the edge of the wall, which gave the impression he was either attempting to anchor himself in anticipation of an uncomfortable conversation or he was readying himself to spring off and run away. ‘I wasn’t sure you wanted to discuss that.’
‘I did, I do.’
Lola’s phone pinged. Relieved that she had a momentary distraction, she picked it up. Thinking it would be from Deni wondering where they’d got to, she clicked on it.
Her heart stalled.
Fancy seeing you here :)
Not from Deni, but an unknown number, different to the one she’d blocked last night.
The tone of the message was somehow jovial, yet the underlying meaning sent ice-cold fear racing down her back.
She very nearly deleted it straight away, except there was a photo attached and from the thumbnail, something was telling her to look closer, to understand what she was dealing with. So she clicked. And gasped.
A photo of her and Rhys at the end of the promenade they’d just walked along.
Jumping to her feet, she whirled around, searching him out.
And, when she saw her ex gazing down at her, she stared in disbelief.
Jarek was sitting on the terrace of Zamira Lounge, the lounge bar just above them, his arm casually resting on the black railing, sunglasses pushed up into his dark hair, a sly smile on his face.
The blood drained from her, leaving her light-headed.
Her heart thumped so hard it threatened to overwhelm.
‘Lola? Are you okay?’ Rhys was on his feet, worry creasing his forehead.
Breathe, Lola, breathe , she told herself.
From the terrace above, Jarek raised his glass and fixed her with a look that nearly made her knees buckle.