‘I’m really sorry.’
‘Don’t be. There’s no rush. We’ve got plenty of time.’
But they didn’t have plenty of time, Claire thought, as she got into bed alone. She was going home tomorrow, then Mark would be in New York and it would be weeks before she could see him again. Bloody Sophie, indeed! Mark wasn’t the only one whose life she was sabotaging. She tried to ignore the niggling voice in her head that said Sophie was just a convenient excuse because she didn’t want to admit that her heart simply wasn’t in this.
29
Luca was glad of the distraction when Ali showed up at his flat on Sunday afternoon. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He’d thought he’d be glad to have all his time to himself again – he’d been neglecting his painting lately – but he missed Claire. He wasn’t used to having sex with someone he had any kind of relationship with. It was a novel experience for him and, to his surprise, he liked it. He had thought it would be boring having sex with the same person over and over again, but it added a whole other dimension that made the sex more interesting and nuanced and…better. And it was relaxing not having to worry about Claire getting clingy and making demands on him.
‘Where’s Claire?’ Ali asked, wandering from room to room.
‘She doesn’t live here, you know.’
‘Doesn’t she?’
‘No. So, what’s up?’ he asked, as he cleaned his hands on a rag.
‘Nothing much,’ she said, prowling around restlessly,like a caged tiger. ‘I just haven’t seen you in a while. I thought I’d take you out to dinner.’
‘Dinner?’
‘Yes.’ She turned to him. ‘You remember dinner? It’s the meal that comes after breakfast and lunch.’
‘Oh, that dinner.’ He could tell she was in one of those moods where she wanted to make things up to him. He sighed. She would never be done trying to make things up to him.
‘Yes, that dinner. My treat.’
‘You shouldn’t spend your money on me. We can have dinner here.’
‘Really?’ she asked, tilting her head to the side and looking at him sceptically. She skipped over to the kitchen area, opened the fridge and peered in. ‘What would we have?’
‘I’m pretty sure there’s some cheese that’s still broadly feasible.’
‘You mean this?’ she asked, her lip curled as she held up something green and hairy that might once have been cheese. He couldn’t really tell from where he was standing. He felt bad because Claire had left it there and he’d let it rot. He didn’t like her wasting her money on him.
‘Okay, not cheese, then,’ he conceded.
‘What do you normally have for dinner? What would you have if I wasn’t here?’
He really had no idea. When he was working flat out, like he was now, he often forgot to eat until he realised he was almost faint with hunger. Then he’d just grab whatever was closest to hand.
‘You don’t have anything, do you?’ she asked crossly.
‘I do sometimes,’ he said defensively. ‘If I think of it.’
Ali rolled her eyes. ‘And what do you have then?’
‘Toast.’ He grinned.
Ali tutted. ‘You don’t eat enough. Look at you – you’re skin and bone. Come on, I’m taking you out for dinner, and that’s that.’
‘I don’t know…’ He hesitated. ‘I have a lot of work to do.’
‘Luca,’ she said sympathetically, ‘you need a break.’
She was probably right. He was getting paint-blindness, and he felt dizzy and disoriented from too little sleep. Apart from the few hours he’d spent at Claire’s house on Friday night, he hadn’t been outside the flat in days – that couldn’t be healthy. And, now that he thought about it, hewasreally hungry.
‘Okay, you’re on. I’ll just go and clean up a bit,’ he said, waving his paint-stained hands.
