She let out a short laugh. ‘Not exactly.’
He poured a small measure of whisky into a glass and slid it towards her. ‘Need one of these?’
She didn’t, actually, but politeness forced her to thank him and take a small sip. Looking at her face, he chuckled softly.
‘What?’
‘Not a whisky fan, huh?’
‘Oh.’ She felt her skin prickle with embarrassment. ‘Well, no. Not exactly.’
He took the glass back from where she’d set it on the table. ‘Yeah, I figured when I saw your face.’ He screwed up his eyes and turned down his mouth in imitation. She should probably have been insulted, but there was something so open, so non-judgemental about the way he was teasing her.
‘Hey!’ she said with mock indignation.
He shrugged and took a sip from the glass he’d given her. ‘I’d do the same with Prosecco, if that helps. So what’s up?’
‘Ah nothing. Just stressed, I think.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah. Why?’
‘It’s just,’ he touched his own face below the eyes, and ran a finger down his cheek, tracing an imaginary tear. ‘You got that panda thing going on,’ he explained.
‘Oh!’ She stood up and glanced in the glass of the door. Her reflection wavered, but she could make out the darkness around her eyes. ‘You got me,’ she said.
He laughed, but there was sympathy in the sound. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’ She sighed. ‘I’m shattered from work, I think. Just… hard not to think about it.’
‘Amen to that,’ he tilted the whisky glass slightly as if giving cheers then took another sip. ‘These students don’t know what’s going to hit them in a few years, am I right?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Ah, can’t help envying them that.’
‘So, you’re here for work?’ she asked, changing the subject.
He made a face. ‘Kinda taking a bit of time to think strategy.’ He took another sip.
‘God, I wishIhad a strategy. If I’m honest, it’s more like I’m drowning!’ She grinned, but almost instantly felt the corners of her mouth waver.Don’t cry. Do Not Cry.
‘Yeah? How so? You’re like an intern, right? You’re not meant to know everything,’ he said kindly.
She wanted to nod. Tell him she was being stupid. Play the ‘I must just be hormonal’ card to get him to back off. But she was so, so tired. And so, so sad. ‘Not exactly,’ she said.
‘Hey,’ he said, shifting his chair a little closer. ‘You can tell me anything. Honestly. I can keep a secret.’
And somehow she managed to explain to this virtual stranger exactly what had gone on in her life. The misunderstandings that had occurred. The fact that she’d talked her way into a job that was way out of her league; that her money situation had made her feel obligated to play the part.
‘And I’m not twenty-anything. I’m thirty-four,’ she sobbed. ‘I lied about that too, here. Because I needed to get somewhere cheap to live. I’m… I’m getting divorced, my business has closed. I don’t have anything. But at work, I’m like this executive. They think I’m an experienced hotel manager. They even think I own this place!’ she said, gesturing around. ‘But in reality, I’m renting a room, I haven’t got any qualifications, I have no idea what I’m doing. And to top it all, Henri’s sleeping with other women, but apparently I’m the one who’s got a problem, because I mind.’
‘OK, slow down, slow down.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Right,’ he said, nudging a box of tissues towards her. ‘I know this seems a lot. But none of it is unfixable, OK?’
