Chapter 39
Just get on with it. That had been the advice from everyone Alyssa had dared to confide in about whether it was time she publicly admitted her relationship with Devan.
Over coffee with Sylvie, her newly re-established best friend had rolled her eyes and told her to stop dragging her feet like a sloth.
When Alyssa had whispered about the possibility with Jess in the corner shop, Jess had clapped with glee and offered her a loudspeaker and a crocheted banner.
Then Mrs Halfpenny had popped up from behind the new penny sweets display to suggest they get T-shirts printed.
At least she hadn’t tried to haul her to the truth chair.
Small-town life was nothing if not quirky.
So as Alyssa walked up the stone steps of the huge countryside hotel, the spring sunshine warming her face, she was beaming to herself. Because she was a woman with a secret she was preparing to spill – only this time, the secret was a good one.
Love Task Six had arrived, and she wasn’t sure what it was, other than the app had told her to pack for the weekend – clothes for gentle exercise, luxurious lounging, and dinner.
And judging by where her car had arrived, the venue was an exclusive spa hotel.
In her old life, places like these had brought her out in hives.
At times, she’d been gifted mini breaks in exchange for promoting them.
Though despite her usual radiant photos, she hadn’t enjoyed having the happy lives of lovey couples and giggling friends shoved under her nose when her own life had been distinctly lacking.
A young man and woman passed, arm in arm, and she smiled genuinely at them.
Things were different for her this time.
Now she was arriving as a contented person too, even if she was more than a little jittery about her mission.
Though this place would be perfect. Devan would be expecting her to pretend she was all about Pilates and namastes, and sipping chamomile tea with her lima beans.
But she was about to surprise him – in more ways than one.
Since the night of the tango dancing, and after finally facing her dad, she’d decided it was time.
She hadn’t yet seen Devan, who’d apparently arrived earlier with Teijo, as he’d had a morning work meeting.
She’d been so busy with her deluge of new love coaching clients that she’d barely seen him since the tango event.
He’d been tied up with working on his next app idea too, as inspired by Mrs Halfpenny, who would no doubt be the T-shirt and poster girl.
It would be a self-love version of ’Appy Together – although goodness knew what they could call it.
’Appy if Everyone Else Would Just Sod Off?
Not that that was exactly what loving yourself was about.
Standing at the top of the steps, Alyssa turned for a moment, to take it all in.
The majestic Cotswold stone building, with its honeyed hues and deep green ivy that trailed like bunting.
The manicured hedges, shaped perfectly like chickens.
The spacious striped lawn, dotted with bistro tables and those hanging cocoon chairs that were big enough for two people to cosy inside, if you didn’t mind a bit of motion sickness.
Yes, this time she could allow herself to enjoy this, without having to fake it.
In truth, she almost couldn’t fault Devan’s love app, which gobbled up her questionnaire feedback and gave her exactly what she needed – even when she didn’t know it.
Devan was incredible at his work, and she’d been selfishly blind to that as she’d clung to her goal of disproving his app.
A pang of guilt shot through her at having counted on Good Old Devan to take her side instead of fighting for his own. She needed to make amends for that.
‘Alyssa.’
She heard the upbeat tones of Devan’s voice behind her in the doorway, and instinctively, she turned to him.
His face was animated and his smile full.
The sun caught the flecks of auburn in his hair as he pushed it back, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands when they were pretending not to be a couple.
She wanted to fling hers around him and blurt out how much she’d missed him – and quite honestly, how she wanted to nibble him like a biscuit in that tight black jumper and muscle-hugging jeans.
But Teijo appeared behind him brandishing his camera and notebook, and suddenly she didn’t know what the etiquette was for two people who’d been secretly falling for each other, when one of them was about to confess things.
So instead, she scratched her head – which in hindsight was not a good look, unless you wanted people to suspect you had lice.
‘You look beautiful,’ he breathed, taking in her long orange floaty dress and summery straw hat, none of which matched her branding or usual black and pink trendy casuals, but nonetheless felt swishy.
She didn’t mind that her pink waves clashed or that her nails, still a bit grubby from working in the shared garden but painted glittery rainbow shades by Emmalina, didn’t tie in.
Devan cleared his throat, seeming to remember Teijo was behind him. ‘I mean, you’re looking well. Shall we get some tea and sit on the lawn? Then Teijo can take photos. I’ll find someone to look after your bags.’
Alyssa nodded, reaching for her suitcase at the same time as Devan, their hands brushing, the warmth of his accidental touch filling her.
Every part of her still tingled when she was near him, and she felt the overwhelming urge to end the charade and tell everyone she was wild about him right here and now.
But it affected Devan’s life too, so she wanted to clear things with him first – even though they’d recently told Emmalina.
And then Teijo was there with his camera, snapping her uncertainty and the flush of her cheeks, and she recoiled, remembering public declarations could be mortifying. Stay cool.
Doubt fluttered inside her as she wondered for the umpteenth time what people would say when she more or less admitted her online persona was no better than a glorified cardboard cut-out, and she’d been fibbing about everything from quinoa to her keenness on Devan.
What would her agent say? Would she lose a chunk of followers? If she did, would it truly matter?
As Devan chatted to staff about her luggage, she took a moment to step away.
She was coaching clients again now, and it would be foolish not to use her skills on herself.
What would she advise people when their mind monkeys were having a jungle party?
She closed her eyes. Deep breaths in, long breaths out. Repeat a mantra. You’re not a chimp.
Teijo rounded them up again and they made their way across the lawn to a sunny bistro table. Alyssa focused on the birdsong and the feel of the sun on her face, letting her mind clear and her busy thoughts float away. Maybe she should coach herself more often.
As they walked, Devan talked animatedly about his morning meeting and the new app he was creating, pushing his glasses back up his chiselled cheeks every time they slipped a little.
She had no idea what half of the tech jargon meant, but she was reminded again about his unapologetically geekish passion for what he did.
He cared fiercely about the positive impact his work could make – more so than she had, until he crashed back into her life and made her feel again.
They arrived at a table, Devan repeating his suggestion of tranquil tea, no doubt to help her keep up her image.
Alyssa took a deep breath, remembering the right people would accept the real version of her, and those who didn’t could get stuffed.
‘Actually, I could kill for a bacon butty and a nap in one of those swingy chairs. And maybe a dirty great ice-cream milkshake with chocolate sprinkles.’ She gave Devan a cheeky smile as she registered the surprise on his face.
It was time to let Teijo get the lowdown on who she really was, behind the smokescreen of fake downward-dog-loving photos. Oh God, oh God, oh Godddd.
No. She was going to own it.
She kicked off her pumps, hoicked up her dress and climbed into one of the egg chairs, sending it rocking.
The motion made her heart race – or maybe that was just the nerves.
But she was going to put an end to this charade, annihilating one lie at a time.
She pulled out a stash of trashy magazines from her cheap and cheerful tote bag.
‘This is the perfect spot for reading,’ she announced, barely suppressing a grin as she noticed Teijo appraising her reading material. She wouldn’t usually be seen dead with anything other than the latest trending personal development books, even if she never actually read them.
‘Get rid of your blackheads,’ Teijo read from the front cover of one of her mags. ‘And ten celebrities with sweat patches. Intriguing.’
‘I know, isn’t it? It’s so freeing to read that other people are human too – even the famous ones. Although I feel for this one, with the damp patches around the crotch of her designer leggings. Those roving cameras get everywhere, don’t they?’
She eyed Teijo’s camera and he put it down on the white bistro table next to where Devan was already sitting.
‘You seem …’ Teijo’s mouth twisted, as though he was trying to formulate the words. ‘Different today, Miss Heart. Everything OK?’
‘More than OK, Teijo.’ She beamed.
Devan was smiling to himself as he read the menu. ‘I sense Miss Heart is feeling rebellious.’
‘Are you not happy with the app’s choice of venue?
’ Teijo’s forehead crinkled. ‘I thought a weekend spa break for two would be perfect, judging by your Instagram images. You’re often singing the praises of spa treatments and massages, yoga and peaceful stays in the country to read and improve yourself.
’ He looked questionably at the harrowing article Alyssa had opened about how not to steam your lady parts, before quickly straightening his face.
‘I mean, the app suggested this weekend for the purposes of quality time and intimacy, although please don’t feel there’s any pressure to …
’ He swept an arm towards the disaster down below photos on the pages of the magazine, his cheeks paling.
Alyssa laughed. ‘Sit down, Teijo. Have a cuppa. And grab your notepad, because I’m about to get brutally honest.’ It felt terrifying. But not as scary as a whole damned life of make-believe.
By the time their drinks arrived, Alyssa was in full, slightly nervy flow, confessing to Teijo she’d never actually enjoyed a massage, because they made her uncontrollably ticklish and she didn’t like being poked by a stranger.
‘It reminds me of Friends, when Ross massages that guy using wooden spoons to avoid touching his naked flesh.’
‘Love that episode,’ Devan added.
‘Alyssa watches sitcoms?’ Teijo asked. ‘So is couples’ massage out? And what about the sauna?’
‘Those things are so hot,’ said Alyssa. ‘I always feel like a turkey on slow roast. Is it just me?’
‘Exactly!’ Devan nodded. ‘And don’t get me started on people breaking wind in hot tubs. We all know they’re doing it.’
‘Agreed,’ said Alyssa, putting a hand over her nose. ‘That’s if I even wanted to share a communal bath with a bunch of hairy strangers.’
‘Wow, you’re not going to get any more free spa breaks if I share these views on the socials.’ Teijo looked uncertain. ‘I mean, it will get plenty of clicks and comments for ’Appy Together, but …’
‘It’s OK,’ Alyssa replied, sounding more confident than she felt. ‘This is me. Odd thoughts and all. I’ll use the spa’s facilities, if that’s part of the task. But you’ll get my no-frills views, even if they’re not what readers are expecting.’
She could tell from Devan’s face that he was intrigued to see how this would pan out.