The guests around us chat, the low murmur of their conversations lightens the atmosphere.
I sip my drink and watch the fish in their carefree world, swimming beneath us, the waves gently lapping against the stilts.
“Are you ready to order?”
“I’ll have the prawns, followed by the fish,” I say.
“I’ll have the salmon, followed by the steak, rare,” Jax adds.
Predictable. Still a steak man.
Our waiter leaves.
“Your questions?” I ask, unable to take the intolerable silence when everyone around us is talking.
Jax leans forward and smiles.
My chest aches at the sight.
“Hobbies. What do you do to relax?”
CHAPTER 15
JAX
“Hobbies?”
She stares at me like I’ve asked her an alien concept.
“Yes, you know, the things you do to unwind, relax?”
She grunts, but I see the moment she realises I’m serious.
“I run,” she says eventually.
“You always liked to run.”
I think about the morning almost three months ago, when I saw her running through the estate. She’s skinnier than she was then. The stress is not something she’s handling.
“Anything else?”
“I read magazines,” she says, her tone becoming defensive.
I chuckle. “Hospitality Design and Boutique Hotelier are not magazines.”
“I beg to differ,” she says, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
“They’re linked to your job.”
“Are you saying I’m boring? That I’m a workaholic?”
“If the shoe fits,” I say.
“Guilty as charged,” she admits, with a smile. “I love my job, what I do.”
“Do you still play the piano?”
Her smile fades, her hand dropping to her cutlery. She straightens it.
