I’m not sure Bridget bought what we were saying, but she makes up a green juice from powder that smells like the gunk you get on the Mersey sometimes.
Malachi and Whit move off eventually, too loved up to pay much attention to the rest of us.
There’s still no sign of Patrick and Carys, even when we’ve washed up our plates and pans.
‘Ready for a beautiful day in paradise?’ Warren says in that slow, deep voice. A flash of a smile.
We walk over to a big squishy seat in the sun that reminds me of soft play centres. It’s warm under the sunshine already.
Last night is playing on my mind. I’ve not cheated on him, because we’re not really together, but we talked on the way here about being exclusive, just to be safe. And that means I probably need to be honest with him, as much as I can, about who I am.
I wander round to grab some suncream from a table nearby, scoping the area for cameras. We’re still un-mic’d but I can’t relax about it yet.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I ask as we settle down. I flip open the lid of the suncream and pour a splodge into my palm.
‘Shoot.’ Warren settles his bucket hat over his eyes, like makeshift sunglasses.
‘Did you think you’d fall in love here, like at all?’
He flips up the brim of his hat to peer up at me with one eye. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Just curious.’
Warren sits up, removing the bucket hat from over his eyes. ‘I was open to it,’ he says, as he picks up the suncream and starts slathering it onto his long, muscular arms. ‘To falling in love.’
My throat feels dry. Maybe Carys is right – am I denying Warren a chance at falling in love with someone for real?
‘But none of the women sparked anything in me, until you,’ he says, and I catch his meaning. ‘What we have… it’s the best situation I could possibly imagine. And I think that, in time, love is going to come.’
I lick my lips and taste suncream, all synthetic coconut. ‘I think so too.’
Love, not romantic love. Partnership. Friendship. Family. Those are the kinds of loves that we are working towards.
‘We align on so much,’ he continues. ‘I think we make a good team.’
I want to be honest with him about the fact that I’m gay as the yellow brick road, but now isn’t the time. When we’re alone in our new apartments, provided they aren’t bugged either, then I’ll tell him. It makes sense to hold off a little longer.
‘Me too.’ He’s missed a few streaks of suncream on his back, so I stand up and rub it in down the centre of his spine.
‘See, you’ve got my back.’
I groan. ‘That was offensively bad.’
He presses his hand over his chest. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being corny.’
‘This is going to be a test of my sanity.’
‘What about you? Did you think you would?’ He swats me with his hand and I boop a blob of suncream onto the tip of his nose, which he rubs in aggressively.
I’m thankful for the distraction. ‘Why do men always do skincare like that?’
‘Like what?’
I mime the same action, rending my skin around like I’m getting an aggressive facial massage.
‘Alright, alright, point made. You can teach me to be more delicate,’ he says, laughing all the while. The change is so sudden that I almost jump when he reaches over for my hand.‘To be serious again for a second, Dolly, I don’t have any regrets, if that’s what you’re asking me. Do you?’
I look at my future fake husband. Yes, he’s lowkey famous in his career, far more than I am I guess. Niche famous. And he’s also good. Kind. Funny. Caring. Someone I see myself reflected in. A man I can trust.
