‘Hello,’ she echoed, with a soft smile. ‘How are you this morning?’
‘Absolutely knackered.’
‘I think I know something that could help,’ she said, her dark brown eyes wide. She leaned forward to plant a chaste kiss on his forehead. It was a compelling scene: the big, burly boxer with his tiny girlfriend fretting over him. The audience would love it.
‘All better,’ Declan declared. ‘You should patent your healing technique; you’d make millions.’
Zoë giggled, sitting up and stretching her arms above her head.
‘Well, the second step to this ancient healing ritual,’ she said, playing along and looking over her shoulder at him, ‘is piping hot tea.’ She raised an eyebrow.
‘God, yes, please,’ Declan said, pulling himself out of bed and hoisting her into his arms, bridal-style. She shrieked with laughter. ‘Shall we?’ he asked, ignoring the pounding behind his eyes.
They walked out to the kitchen like that, greeted by hoots and hollers from the others.
‘Oi,’ Jack called over to them, as Declan placed Zoë gently on the counter. ‘You two tying the knot, then?’
‘If we do,’ Declan called back, ‘would you officiate?’
Zoë hopped down and pushed him towards the others. ‘Go on, wifey can make the tea this morning,’ she said, winking.
Declan laughed, heading to a daybed occupied by Holly, Maeve and Oliver.
‘You up for being my best man?’ Declan asked Oliver, sitting next to him.
Maeve glanced between them, confused. ‘Am I missing something?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ Oliver cut in, slinging his arm over Declan’s shoulder. Declan ignored a stab of discomfort, reminding himself that he was allowed to touch Oliver now that it was for the show. ‘Declan and I are mates, didn’t you get the memo?’ Oliver gave a fake smile and made his eyes wide, like a hostage being held against his will.
‘We talked it out like men,’ Declan agreed.
‘I conceded that the better man had won the girl,’ Oliver said solemnly, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.
‘Fancy a workout, mate?’ Declan said, conscious of the cameras.
Zoë came over, handing a steaming mug to Declan. She perched herself next to him on the daybed and took a small sip, nodding expectantly towards the weights. Working out together had become part of their routine, but Declan didn’t want to leave Oliver.
‘Wait, Zo, why don’t you put us through one of your bootcamps?’ he said, knowing she wouldn’t refuse – it was the perfect opportunity to promote her channel.
‘What?’ Zoë asked, taken aback.
‘You know, like your videos,’ Declan explained. ‘Tell us what to do, critique our form, be our drill sergeant.’ Zoë looked unsure,but Declan could tell she just wanted to be convinced. ‘You’ll get to boss us around; it’ll be fun.’
‘It could be a competition,’ Holly added.
‘Yes, Holly!’ Declan said, pleased the idea was catching on.
‘Er, do I get a say in this?’ Oliver asked.
‘No.’
Oliver laughed good-naturedly. ‘Oh, it is so on, King.’
Declan looked to Zoë again, and she finally nodded, conceding. ‘I actually have the perfect outfit for this,’ she said earnestly, and the others laughed.
Fifteen minutes later, Declan and Oliver were standing side by side on the grass, yoga mats in front of them. Zoë stood on the patio stairs, with two cameramen trained on the developing entertainment and the rest of the contestants gathered to watch.
‘All right, boys,’ Zoë called in her trainer voice. ‘We’re doing a circuit of three minutes for each exercise: squat switches, step-back kick-ups, burpees and a two-minute plank.’ She nimbly showed off each move as she explained it. ‘On your marks, get set… go!’ She blew on the whistle Paige had scrambled to find for her.
