Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
E ight a.m. in Tuscany is bright and beautiful, like it should be. The sun shines on the beautiful hills, only a few clotted clouds dot the sky, the lake is glittering. From the lower hills, the citrus smell of lemon and orange trees wafts up towards my window, past the toast-coloured houses. A chef somewhere in the hotel is making some sweetly crafted bread. My mouth waters.
The entire night is a big fuzzy blur. I look around the room and I see Weasel’s hoodie on the bed, folded perfectly. Before I think better of it, I pick it up and smell it. Cold Christmas. I smell the pillow next to me, and it smells like him too. Did he sleep here?
I hear the stream of a tap from the bathroom. Moments later, the door opens, and Weasel in a T-shirt and boxers (God, he’s a boxers guy) saunters out as if this is the most natural thing in the world. His legs are muscular, tanned; his boxers are navy, tight. Too tight. I refuse to look.
The only tell-tale sign he’s slept at all is his hair, which is slightly more ruffled. Which means we’ve slept next to each other for at least some of the night.
In the stark morning, without the comfort of night or my fever, this is absolutely, positively bizarre. I pull the sheets up around my chin.
‘Relax, little viper.’ He laughs and stretch.
I put my face into the pillow and groan. ‘Please put some clothes on. It’s so weird, waking up to you here.’
‘ You put some clothes on. That’s if you didn’t sweat through everything. Speaking of…’ Before I can say another word he leans across and feels my forehead with his hand. ‘Better.’
I can feel where his large warm hand has been, even after he gets back up and grabs the thermometer. ‘Once more.’
I groan but inside I almost enjoy how much he’s taking care of me. When it beeps, he nods. ‘Thirty-seven. Better.’
He hands me a chamomile tea and I take a sip. I keep thinking back to last night. What am I forgetting? I look at him.
‘Oh crap. The edits!’ I exclaim.
‘Done.’
‘What do you mean, done?’
‘I emailed Tony and said you’d do them when you get back.’
‘No, no, no, no, no, no.’ I cover my face with my hands and shake my face. ‘Tony is going to be so annoyed.’
Oh God, was this his plan?
‘For saying no?’ He pops a blueberry from the fruit bowl in his mouth. ‘I think it takes more than that.’
‘I’ve never let him down. God, I’ll be fired.’ Suddenly I realise what’s happening, this is how Weasel planned to get me fired. It’s over . ‘Which you’ll probably love.’
He looks confused. ‘Why would I love that?’
‘What exactly did you say to him?’
‘I said we were at a wedding, and you were busy, and you’d look at it when you got home.’
‘ We . God, so now Tony thinks we are a we . And I’m refusing to do work, and I can’t even be bothered to tell him that myself.’
‘Well, it’s true, Gemma, you shouldn’t have to work while on holiday, no matter how awful that holiday is. Even if the company is rather great.’ He winks.
‘Ugh.’
‘Besides, Tony responded straightaway.’
I braced myself. ‘And?’
‘He said, “Sure.”’
‘“Sure” like he was okay?’
He gets his phone out. ‘His exact words were’ – he looks at me – ‘because I know you’re going to ask: “Sure, sounds good, Ben, have fun.”’ He looks at me. ‘See? The world hasn’t ended because you said no.’
‘Well, technically you said it,’ I say, sounding doubtful.
‘Crisis averted.’ He leans over and hands me a blueberry which I sniff first before popping it in my mouth, in case my stomach revolts, or he’s poisoned it.
‘By the way, I did some of the edits. Just in case…’ He says it casually, as if it’s no big deal.
I stare at him mid-chew. Part of me is happy that they were started, but the other part doesn’t like it at all, Ben doing my work for me. His ‘ It’s over ’ comment still weighs in my head. I’m annoyed, but also thankful.
‘Hmmm, okay.’
‘Actually, Gem, in the spirit of honesty, I did something else too, and?—’
I put my hands up. ‘Enough, my nervous system can’t handle any more surprises.’ I suppose he’s done something like cleaning up my towels or my clothes and wants to gloat. Or he’s heard me snore and recorded it.
There’s a knock on my door. We stare at each other, neither of us expecting anyone.
‘Don’t look at me,’ I say, getting out of bed, feeling all sorts of insecure.
‘Too late. Last night, remember?’
‘Delete it from your memory.’
I grab the bathrobe and pad to the door, opening it a crack. It’s Mum.
‘Good morning.’ She pulls Dad into the doorframe and leans into my room, then wrinkles her nose. ‘Oh honey, it smells a bit in here.’
‘Of what?’
‘Sweat. Maybe vomit.’
‘God. Sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry, we’ll ask them to send the cleaners up once you’re out.’
I smile sheepishly. ‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘Got to look after you.’ I know it sounds silly, but I like that she said that. I feel an unfamiliar warmth spread over me, and a rare fondness for my family.
Dad looks at me with concern. ‘Sweetie, are you still thinking of coming on the boat cruise?’
‘Yeah.’ If I must.
‘Well, ummm…’ They look at each other. ‘Lulu was quite um … stompy last night, after you were sick.’
‘Stompy?’
‘Yes, well, stroppy. She even asked the hotel receptionist to spray everything with a disinfectant, but then the entire place smelled like mosquito spray so people went to bed pretty soon after that.’
I take a deep breath. Another thing I’ll likely get the blame for. ‘Maybe it’s best that I stay under the radar. I could stow away in the hull of the boat?’ I joke.
Mum smiles. ‘She did mention she needed help with the name tags. That could be a good way to make it up to her.’
And there it is. I have to make it up to her . And I feel the weight of guilt in the pit of my stomach, like I’ve done something wrong and have to make it right. I swallow hard and try to remember it’s only another two days, and then I’ll be back on that plane and headed home.
‘Sure, name tags I can do.’
‘That’s my girl,’ Dad says.
‘Good. I hate it when you two fight,’ Mum says as though Lulu is her daughter. She bends down and gives me a large, heavy bag, and I already know before I look that it’ll be full of name tags. They assumed I would say yes, and that irks me.
Suddenly, Weasel appears behind me. Thankfully, he’s at least put pants on and smoothed down his hair.
‘Morning, you two young lovebirds,’ Weasel greets my parents, and I watch Mum flush red, and Dad puff out his chest. What is it with Weasel? People seem to genuinely like him.
‘Adam, you were a trooper last night.’
‘Really, it was easy.’ Weasel shrugs and looks at me. ‘I mean it wasn’t. She’s demanding and feisty. She thought sharks were eating her feet.’
‘Oh, Gemma, really.’ My mum tsks and again I feel a sliver of shame, for just being myself.
‘But she amuses me.’ Weasel watches me for a moment. I look up at him and he seems completely honest. He has a genuine smile on his face and again I feel a warm glow in my chest.
Dad puts his arm round Mum. ‘Go on, love. Tell them what you planned.’
‘Oh yes!’ My mum smiles broadly. ‘For you lovebirds, we’ve left you a little treat.’
‘Treat?’ My stomach drops. I imagine a romantic dinner, or lunch. ‘I can’t eat anything too rich.’
Dad nudges Mum, who giggles. ‘No, not eating. Uhh, rather doing. Part of our package was a couples body mask and spa, and it’s not really our thing.’
‘Couples spa ?’ Suddenly, I feel like I’ve just been invited on a murder spree, rather than a relaxing spa day. It’s one thing for us to be nice to each other; it would be another entirely to get disrobed on a bed together. What if he has a stray hand? What if I do? What if we had to be nude like little mole rats? Terrible, horrible, worst idea ever.
‘Yes, we know you two will love it. Two p.m. today is the only time they could fit it in, which means you won’t be able to make the cruise. But you’ll still be in time to be on the lawn by five p.m. for Lulu’s surprise. So, enjoy.’ My mum smiles and winks. ‘And we don’t want to know a word about it.’
As they wave and walk down the hallway, I sigh. ‘ I don’t want to know a word about it.’
‘I think you do, since you could do with a bit of a wash.’
I choose to ignore his comment and close the hotel door. Weasel is standing there fully dressed. Right, of course. He’s leaving, course he is, back to his lair. I can hardly expect him to hang around with me, like an actual couple.
‘So, looks like I have name tags to do.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Thank you for uh … everything last night.’
He looks down at me with those blue eyes, honest and open. ‘I can help you out with the name tags.’
‘Really?’ I’m almost stunned into silence.
He nods.
‘Okay, well, first I should clean up this smelly room. There was a strange man in here last night. And before you say anything, I’m sorry about all of it.’
He gives me a gorgeous grin, one of those stupid heart-melting ones, running his hands through his wavy blond hair. ‘Okay, I need some proper coffee first anyway, so I’ll see you soon.’
Opening the door to his hotel room, he calls out, ‘Soy cappuccino?’ as if we were together, and it feels really strange, because I expected I would want to say something snarky back, but after a few beats I just call, ‘Perfect’.
A small warm tingle spreads across my body, and something in me seems to shift. I truly don’t hate him anymore.