Regret This Later (The Love Hotel #3)

Chapter 1

LAILA

‘How does it feel to finally be free?’ my neighbour Juliette asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

‘You make it sound like I’ve just been released from a maximum-security prison!’ I chuckled before taking a bite from one of the fancy French pastries Juliette had laid out on the posh antique dining table in her impressive conservatory.

When I told her that my twenty-one-year-old son, Ricky, was going travelling for at least a year, she insisted on hosting a special lunch to celebrate me getting my life back.

I’d heard of divorce parties, but I never knew ‘empty-nest celebrations’ to toast an only child leaving home were a thing. And to be honest, I was dreading rattling around in the house by myself.

As much as Ricky annoyed me by always forgetting to put the toilet seat down and leaving dishes in the sink (not to mention the collection of used glasses in his bedroom), I was still going to miss him.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Now wasn’t the time to get emotional.

‘Oh, Laila, but you have!’ she declared in her thick French accent. ‘Now you can have passionate sex in the afternoon, walk around your house naked whenever you please and you will no longer have to wash your son’s dirty pants. If that is not a reason to celebrate, I do not know what is!’

‘I won’t be having sex in the afternoons or any time of day, considering I’m at work during the week and volunteering at the weekends.

And there’s the small fact that I don’t have anyone to actually have it with!

’ I sighed, pulling out the bottle of Cava and box of chocolates I’d bought to thank Juliette for organising this celebration out of my bag.

‘And at my age, there’s no way you’d catch me walking around naked! ’

‘At your age?’ Juliette’s jaw dropped. ‘But you are only forty!’

‘I’ll be forty-one next month!’

‘That does not matter! With your fantastic skin and gorgeous figure, you look like you are in your twenties.’

‘Yeah, right!’ I scoffed. Whilst it was true that my warm brown skin did look youthful (definitely down to my genes and not my haphazard skincare routine), saying I looked twenty years younger was a bit of a stretch.

I wasn’t put together like Juliette. She was in her mid-fifties and so glamorous.

Her nails were always perfectly manicured.

I couldn’t remember the last time I wore nail polish.

Juliette’s make-up was flawless, whereas the most I ever wore was tinted lip balm and mascara.

And she had weekly blow dries, whereas my thick curly hair was usually tied up or braided by yours truly.

‘Here.’ I handed her the bottle and chocolates, hoping we could change the subject.

‘Why did you buy these?’ She wrinkled her nose.

‘To say thank you – for everything.’

‘Darling, it really is not necessary. I have the champagne on ice and I picked up some French truffles from Harrods yesterday which are to die for!’ I wished I could’ve afforded to bring something more extravagant, but money was tight right now.

‘Anyway, as I was saying,’ Juliette continued.

‘You have the chance for a fresh start. When I got divorced and my son chose to live with his father, I could have been sad that he had rejected me, but I realised it was my chance to reclaim the life that I lost. And I have not looked back! Although I loved my son, having my freedom was important. That is why I am excited to become a grandmother. Then I will have the best of both worlds: the chance to enjoy children then hand them back whenever I want so they do not interfere with my lifestyle.’

‘You’re going to be a grandmother?’ My eyes popped.

‘Not yet, but I will be soon! Now that Gabriel is back in Paris, it is only a matter of time until he rekindles his romance with his wonderful ex and they will make such beautiful babies. Did I show you the photo of him on the PinstaSpam?’

‘You mean Instagram?’ I stifled a smile. Juliette was not a fan of technology or the internet so I wasn’t surprised she’d got the name wrong.

‘That is what I said,’ she insisted as she plucked her phone and glasses from the table and started tapping the screen.

‘I didn’t realise you were on social media?’

‘Goodness, no! I am always sending Gabriel photos, but he never sends any to me, so I have saved a link to his page. I do not bother looking at the boring business things. I just check occasionally to see if there are new photos of him.’

It was weird that he didn’t like sending pictures to her. And if the Instagram page was for his business, why wouldn’t she be interested in reading all the posts to see how he was getting on? I know I would.

Whenever Gabriel used to come over during his university holidays to hang out with Ricky, I always thought he’d go far and was amazed at how smart and sensible he was.

Whilst Ricky was in his room playing video games, we’d often talk for hours about the latest autobiography, memoir or motivational book he was reading, the things he’d learned from them and the business he dreamt of starting.

He seemed so ambitious and driven. I don’t remember being even half as mature at his age.

I had so many questions about Juliette’s relationship with her son, but whenever I tried to find out more, she clammed up, so I’d stopped asking.

Juliette squinted at the screen, then, after scrolling for a few seconds, she thrust her phone in front of me.

‘This is a photo of him speaking at a conference about seven months ago. I must ask why there are not any more recent pictures. Look at him!’ she beamed. ‘Is he not the most beautiful man ever created?’

I was about to do a mental eyeroll because of course every mother thought their son was beautiful. But when I caught sight of him, my jaw dropped.

Wow.

Juliette wasn’t lying.

He really was handsome.

Very, very, very handsome, with a capital H, underlined, bolded and then highlighted in luminous yellow.

‘Th-this is Gabriel?’ I stuttered as I picked my mouth up off the floor.

What a difference several years could make.

I didn’t remember him looking like that.

Not long after Juliette moved to London, Gabriel used to visit almost every month. He must’ve been around twenty then and was gangly and slightly awkward. But about a year later, he stopped coming over because they fell out. She never said why.

Although they’d started talking again last year, I hadn’t seen him in person for ages and he looked totally different.

Gabriel had short, dark hair, olive skin, thick dark brows, a gorgeous smile and there was nothing gangly or awkward about him any more.

Nope.

The man in this photo was standing confidently on a stage in front of a huge audience, wearing a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms.

Excuse me, but when did forearms become so sexy?

Shame washed over me.

I shouldn’t be perving over Juliette’s son.

Yes, he was a fully grown man. At a guess, I’d say he must be twenty-eight now, or maybe twenty-nine? Anyway, it didn’t matter. It was still wrong. If Juliette knew I’d even thought about her son in that way for a millisecond, she’d kick me out of her house in a heartbeat.

‘Oui, this is my Gabriel,’ Juliette beamed proudly.

‘He’s…’ hot, ridiculously handsome, gorgeous… ‘he’s… changed a lot since I last saw him,’ I said diplomatically. ‘It’s a lovely photo.’

‘It is. His father may be useless, but he was very attractive. With two beautiful parents, it was inevitable that Gabriel would be stunning. So will my grandchildren. Sybille, his ex, is also very beautiful.’

‘Well, I hope Ricky waits a while before making me a grandma!’

‘You feel that way because you put your life on hold for your son. But now he has left, it is time to start dating again!’

Ugh.

Just thinking about going through the rigmarole of trying to find a man made me want to break out in a cold sweat.

When I fell pregnant at nineteen, it was a shock. I know that sounds crazy, considering I knew how babies were made, but I wasn’t expecting to get knocked up the second time I had sex. Ricky’s dad was shocked too, hence why he didn’t stick around.

Although I knew being a single mum would be hard, I vowed to give Ricky the best life I could and make him my priority. So for the first seven years of Ricky’s life, I decided not to date at all.

But when a cute colleague started flirting with me at the call centre I worked at, I was so flattered that we ended up having a fling. Which led to me losing my job because work relationships apparently weren’t allowed.

I’d dated on and off since then, but it never lasted more than a year. They’d either cheated, lied or ghosted me.

I didn’t think it was healthy for me to bring men home, only to have to explain to Ricky months later that things had ended, so I didn’t actively pursue anything again until Ricky started uni.

My last foray into dating was three years ago, whilst Ricky spent two weeks in Devon with his best friend and his family.

Juliette encouraged me to sign up for a dating app (despite the fact that she never dared use them herself) and that was another epic failure.

So after several disastrous dates, I finally decided to call time on looking for love for good.

It was too much hard work for zero reward.

‘The idea of meeting someone sounds cool in theory, but after my last attempt at using dating apps, I’d rather stay single, thanks.’

‘Times have moved on since then, darling. Dating apps are not the only way to meet a man. I have arranged something very special to bring you out of your shell. I will reveal everything when Marjorie and Cordelia arrive…’ A cheeky glint flashed in her eyes.

I was about to ask what she meant when the doorbell rang.

Juliette sashayed to the door. When she returned, our neighbours, Marjorie and Cordelia, were with her.