He wasn’t getting it. He’d never gotten it. As sweet as he could be, as intelligent and fun, he saw no reason for his woman to work, mainly because after his mother had married his father, she’d stopped working and had babies instead. I had no intention of changing what I did. No intention of dropping my hours. I didn’t need or want to belooked after.I could look after myself.
I didn’t respond, simply locking the screen and making sure the phone was on mute. I didn’t need Matt spoiling the scenery, even if it was mainly desert. But what I did need was to make a decision. I wasn’t marrying Matt; I wasn’t going to stay living with him – my stuff at his had become thinner in recent weeks as it had been transported back to the small flat I’d kept up even though he’d insisted that it was more cost effective for me to live with him permanently.
I didn’t do permanent.
Since leaving college I taken a series of fixed-term contracts. To be fair, until I was more senior, had written a few papers or had the opportunity of leading at a centre, everything was fixed-term contracts at zoos, reserves, large vet practices. It suited me. A fixed-term contract enabled me be able to say that I didn’t know where I would be in six, twelve, eighteen months’ time. I could return home like a boomerang with no guilt or explanation, no in depth analysis needed.
“Trouble at home?”
I forgot how Callum saw everything. He read body language like it was an early reader, humans as well as animals.
“Boyfriend.”
“Oh.” His eyes went back to the sand outside the window.
“Soon to be ex.” I threw him a bone.
“Poor guy.”
Then I ignored him.
* * *
The hotel wasone I’d seen on a travel documentary, holding the world record for number of floors or something. I didn’t care; as long as it had a working shower and a mattress that didn’t have the consistency of wood.
Abel told us something about times for meeting tomorrow afternoon, mentioning he’d email everything out, so I automatically switched off, instead visualising the shower and the force of the water. The hotel was grand, opulent, the sort of place where Matt would want us taking a ‘short break’ for him to recharge his batteries. The sort of place that was wasted on me.
“You don’t look impressed.” Callum ushered me into the elevator before him, the concierge looking completely impartial.
I shrugged. “I’m too tired to be impressed. You’re probably used to all this.”
That grin. The thousand-kilowatt grin that made every person in the room light up just as bright.
“Not really. My mum used to take us to Ireland for holidays where we stayed in caravans near the beach so no one cared if we tramped sand in.”
“You’ve stayed in places like this before though?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I have. And I like them just as well as I like Riads in Marrakesh or this lighthouse I stayed in once off the coast of Anglesey.” He smiled using just one side of his mouth. “Everywhere has its charm when you look hard enough. At least most places do.”
Ever the optimist.
“Where’s been your favourite place to stay?” For a moment I forgot about Callum and his magnetism. I didn’t want to engage with him beyond our professional interactions. When I’d been told that Callum was going to be my co-vet on this, I’d almost considered backing out, but I needed the money. Fixed-term contracts worked for my mental health, but not for financial security. This meant I could take a low-paid job working for a charity for an eighteen-month stint without having to worry about paying the bills.
“Galapagos on the beach. Or on a fishing boat around the Norwegian fjords.”
“And who was the lucky woman who was with you?” Because there was always a woman, usually a different one.
“Galapagos it was Marta, she was a local and married with five kids. Norway it was Jo, and he was a fifty-five-year-old fisherman and not my type. Too old.”
“You developed some hard limits then?”
The lift pinged and slowed, signifying we had reached our floor.
“Some.” His eyes twinkled.
He was doing this on purpose, pushing me. This would be his game, just like it was eleven years ago, a game he’d spent four years playing and then when he’d finally won, never bothered to claim his prize.
“I’m assuming you still have a range of hard limits.”
