Instead, I waste some time messing about on the internet, then checking my accounts, taking great pleasure in the long strings of digits they all show.
Finally, my alarm goes off to let me know it’s time to dress for dinner.
Rolling off the bed, I go over to my wardrobe where my clothes have been hung up by the personal butler I get with the apartment. He must have come in while I was out at the pool. I’ve asked for him to keep a low profile while I’m here and just come in when the place is empty unless I specifically ask for him. He seems to have done this, which I’m grateful for because I don’t feel like making polite chitchat right now.
I get dressed in navy cargo pants and a fitted white T and style my hair, then spray on some aftershave. I’ve had one designed for me at great fucking expense, using the keynote fragrances I like, and it’s a joy to wear. I love the idea that I don’t smell like anyone else in the world.
I hear the hubbub of chatter coming from the dining room before I reach it and it suddenly hits me what I’m about to walk into. I brace myself for striding through the room alone to my table, hoping they’ve put me against a wall so I don’t feel too exposed sitting there solo.
The greeter gives me a bow as I approach and says what I think ishello and welcomein Japanese. I give her my name and she checks it against a list on an e-tablet then beckons for me to follow her into the dining area.
It’s a spectacular room of course, fitted out in the same kind of style as the reception, with the larger tables separated by free-standing square-patterned screens or hanging silk dividers. The sun is about to set, but through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the back wall I can still make out the wide river flowing below us in the dusky light.
I stride through the diners, chin up and chest out, trying to act as though I’m totally relaxed about eating in here on my own.
It’ll be a good opportunity to do some people watching and check out who else is staying at the hotel, if nothing else, and I have my phone in my pocket, so I can sit and read something on that if it all gets a bit weird and uncomfortable. And I can always get my plate sent to my apartment and eat there after all if I get bored.
As I walk towards the only free table on the other side of the room that the greeter is heading for, I see with a shot of pleasure that I won’t be the only person dining alone in here.
Chloe is watching me walk towards her with an expression on her face that very clearly saysSeriously?
Her table set for one is slap bang next tomytable set for one.
It’s like the hotel have deliberately put us together.
Well, isn’t that a funny coincidence.
‘Before you say anything, I didn’t orchestrate this. I swear,’ I fib when I reach my table.
Apart from the bit where I changed where I was going to eat this evening– Idon’tadmit.
‘Uh huh.’
From the tone of her voice, she doesn’t believe me.
I can’t blame her. This must look exactly like the set-up it is.
Pulling out the chair, I sit down and nod my thanks to the greeter.
So this is fucking weird. We’re sitting next to each other at separate tables, both looking out at the room and the empty space in front of us where our partners would have sat if they hadn’t dumped us.
It’s like we’re being forced to face the stark reality of our singleness in the most exposing of ways.
It seems Chloe is feeling the same way because out of the corner of my eye I see her shift in her chair and uncross, then re-cross, her legs, then lift the menu from the table and pretend to study it, all the while politely ignoring my presence right next to her.
But I canfeelher vibrating.
I know she’s hyper aware of me right here next to her.
Because I’m vibrating too.
I give a jokey huff, shake my head then turn to face her. ‘This is ridiculous. Why don’t we just share a table tonight if we’re both eating on our own?’
She turns and looks at me with an expression of resigned capitulation on her face. ‘It was inevitable, I suppose, that we’d be shoved next to each other since we appear to be the only single people staying at the hotel.’
‘Glad to hear you’re so happy about the idea of spending more time with me,’ I say drolly.
She sighs. ‘It’s not that. It’s just – I was expecting to spend my time here getting used to my own company again. I thought it would be good for me to prove to myself I could do it – have a good time, that is – without relying on anyone else to prop me up.’
