Her little outburst on the first night about not knowing how to pick a partner made me worried that he was perhaps not as boringly normal as he’d appeared in our first date, where I’d written him off as another nice man looking for a wife.
But knowing that she really likes him has, I don’t know, kicked up my protective side. I want to interrogate him for her. I don’t want her to get her heart broken.
And if my crush is going to get squashed, realising the man I am up against in my own mind is good for her will help with that.
‘All good?’ I call across the empty room.
‘Yes. We’ve got a second date this afternoon. Patrick and I,’ Carys says, a little breathless. ‘And you? With Warren, I mean?’
Okay, so I guess from her sharp tone that she clocked me picking Patrick and is slightly pissed off about it. ‘I get to see Warren tomorrow. I’m really looking forward to it.’
I want to tell her that I’m not interested in Patrick, like I need to do with Whit, but she says a little loudly, ‘Well, I’m going for a shower now, bye!’ and scuttles away.
So much for that.
My dates aren’t until after lunch, which I take to be a few hours from now, so I decide to go for a run in the gym: an activity that is mindless enough to take my brain out of my body.
About twenty minutes into my jog to the boppier tracks ofThe Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, Whit hops onto the treadmill next to me in the outfit she put on for her date, tailored high-waisted trousers and a pretty embroidered silk shirt. To my surprise and confusion, she kicks off her heels and starts running.
I slip out my slightly sweaty ear buds. ‘Good date?’ I ask, as she turns up the speed to levels I’ve never imagined running at.
She growls in response, then seems to realise she’s not actually used words. ‘It was a fucking shitshow,’ she bites out.
I hit pause on my treadmill so that I can concentrate better and eliminate the risk of falling off mid-sentence. ‘What happened?’
Whit keeps her eyes straight ahead as she quietly says, ‘They sent me on a date withthat arsehole.’
‘You’ll need to narrow that down for me,’ I say lightly.
‘Jackson.’
I recoil. ‘The one obsessed with being an alpha male?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Why?’ I say, meaning really why on earth would you pick him.
‘Fucked if I know. I didn’t ask for a second date for obvious reasons! The man has something wrong with him.’
I don’t disagree with that. Clearly, it’s not just my matches the show has fiddled with.
‘Did he say something to you?’
Whit slams the emergency stop with her fist, and slowly comes to a halt. ‘Nothing that was exactlyaboutme but… he just reminds me of my really controlling ex from when I was a student.’
‘Oh Whit. I’m sorry.’
She shivers. ‘He gives me the same feeling. Like all my skin has turned to goosebumps, and not in a good way. It’s bad enough when there’s a partition in the way; I do not want to be in the same room as that man.’
‘Do you need a hug?’ I ask, and she steps over to my treadmill so I can wrap her up. She’s almost as tall as me, but tucks her head under my chin and bursts into tears. I let her cry it out, and when a couple of the Hannahs try to come into theroom, I signal them to get lost for a few minutes. Whit deserves her privacy right now. The tension leaves her body in a big rush as the tears dry up.
‘You’re safe,’ I tell her. ‘I’ve got you. You’re safe.’
We stay that way until she stops shaking. She steps out of my hug, wiping the tears from under her eyes, and suddenly freezes. ‘Shit, have I ballsed up my makeup?’
‘I think a refresh might make you feel better.’ I take my pinkie finger and delicately dab away a few globs of melted eye liner that have peppered her cheeks like ashfall.
‘Did that fix it?’
