‘Fine. Hey, how do they say hello again?’ he asks me. ‘The sitter said it and the other staff say it all the time, but I can never catch it.’
‘It’s pronouncedsawasdee,’I tell him. ‘Sa-was-dee.’
He repeats it. ‘Think I’ve got it now. Seems to be their go-to phrase here.’
‘It is.’ I’m about to float on my back when I remember that I’m not wearing anything.
‘What did Sara say when she found out about you and Elliot?’ Charlie asks curiously.
‘I haven’t told her yet.’
‘Why not?’
I shrug, but don’t give him an answer.
‘I still don’t really understand why you didn’t tell me.’ He doesn’t just sound curious now: he sounds a bit hurt. ‘That’s a big thing to leave out. I thought we were friends.’
‘We are,’ I confirm quietly. He’s facing the shore, but I’ve paddled off to his left.
‘Is that it?’ he asks, giving me a sidelong look. ‘Can you really not give me a better explanation? I don’t even know if he broke up with you or if you ended it.’
‘I ended it,’ I confess.
‘Why?’
How can I answer him? I sigh, softly. ‘I can’t talk about this now.’
If I reveal that we broke up because I’m in love with someone else, I’ll be laying all of my cards out on the table.
‘Yeah, I guess not,’ he says gruffly, looking away. ‘It’s not like I can give you a seven-second hug if you get upset,’ he adds, injecting humour into his tone.
I laugh. ‘Why not?’ Bolstered by how much wine I’ve had to drink, it comes out sounding a little flirty.
‘Do youwantto get a stiffy against your hip?’ he asks with a grin, casting me another sideways look.
I laugh again. ‘I thought I wasn’t fanciable.’
‘I never said you weren’t fanciable.’He remembers that conversation, too.‘I said I didn’t fancy you.’
Too well, it seems.
My stomach falls, but before I can swim away, he catches my hand.
‘In my defence,’ he adds, pulling me back towards him, ‘you did have a boyfriend at the time.’ He gives me a pointed look and adds, ‘You also said you didn’t fancy me.’
‘I don’t feel like that any more,’ I whisper, shocking myself. What am I doing?
Unsurprisingly, that comment renders him speechless. I try to extricate my hand, but he grips me harder.
‘Bridget?’ he questions in a low voice.
‘Charlie?’ I reply, mimicking his tone. He doesn’t smile. He’s looking straight at me, deadly serious, and his eyes are glinting in the light from the fairy lights dangling in the trees on the beach.
A shiver ripples through me.
‘Are you cold?’ he asks, and I wonder if it’s an attempt to change the subject. I should be relieved.
But I’m not.
