‘In a bit.’
‘It’s so hot,’ I say.
‘Are you going to tell me about it?’ he asks.
‘Of course I will, if you want to know.’
‘Yes.’
I walk over to him and pull my T-shirt over my head. ‘Sorry, I’m too hot,’ I say, unbuttoning my shorts. ‘Rock climbing is hard work.’
He watches me guardedly as I strip off down to my swimming costume – a blue-and-green polka-dot one today.
I step into the pool and let the cool water engulf me, going right under. When I emerge, Charlie is looking at me, and he’s still waiting.
I swim over to the edge and gaze up at him. ‘You should come in, it’s lovely.’
‘Did you meet Isak?’ he asks, and it doesn’t take a genius to work out that he’s jealous.
What went down between Nicki, Charlie and Isak happened years ago, but Charlie still clearly detests the thought of him.
That’s because he still loves his wife desperately, I think with a pang.
Regardless of the thought that popped into my mind when I woke up this morning, I don’t believe I would have ever told Charlie if Nicki was having an affair with Isak. It would hurt him too much. He deserves to have untainted memories of her, of the mother of his child.
He stands up and pulls his light-grey T-shirt over his head. He’s already wearing faded orange swimming trunks.
‘What was he like?’ he asks as he slides into the water beside me. My breath quickens.
‘All right,’ I reply noncommittally. ‘He had no idea about Nicki.’
‘No?’ His eyes widen.
‘No. He was sad to hear about it.’
Charlie leans his back against the side of the pool and rests his elbows on the ledge behind him as he stares moodily at the waterfall. He looks like a frigging model with his broad chest and bulging biceps.
And I know that’s not an appropriate train of thought considering he’s struggling with memories of his late wife.
‘He said he’d help me with my research,’ I reveal.
He glances at me again. ‘Yeah?’
‘I’m meeting up with him tonight.’
‘Oh.’ He seems surprised and then put out. ‘So we’re not going to the Thai restaurant?’
‘Tomorrow?’ I ask hopefully.
He nods. ‘What didyouthink of him?’ he asks, and it’s a more specific question from the ones that have come before.
‘I liked him,’ I reply honestly. ‘He’s good at his job. He’s certainly good at encouraging people to sign up for rock-climbing lessons,’ I add with a smirk. ‘He thought I should go back for a course.’
‘Did you think he was good-looking?’
I laugh. Nowthat’sa direct question. ‘Yeah, in a wiry, rock-climber sort of way. He’s not a patch on you,’ I say with a grin.
He grins back at me. That comment cheered him up.
