Dominic. He might have grown up into a very neat-and-tidy, conservative man who is certainly not my type, but he’s also, it turns out,justas handsome as he was all those years ago, and when we came back into the room I was stupidly just as tempted to kiss him as I was when we were young. Fortunately, I now have the advantage of having gained some common sense, so when he looked at me likethat, and moved towards me, I decided totalkrather than kiss and said the first thing that came into my head. Dream job. And then I carried on waffling about jobs for ages. A very good passion killer.
From the snippets I’ve heard about him over the years, I shouldn’t take it as any kind of personal compliment that he did at that point look at me like he was also very tempted: the long string of broken hearts he’s left behind him demonstrates that he’seasilytempted.
Obviously, if I wanted a rebound straight-out-of-my-separation fling, he’d be an ideal candidate, because he clearly wouldn’t be in any danger of having his feelings hurt. But I do not want a rebound fling. And if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be with the only person I’ve ever imagined myself to have fallen head over heels in love with on (more-or-less) first sight, because, while I don’tthinkthere’s any danger of me falling in love for real with someone who’s turned out to be so different from me, I really don’t want to join the list of women whose hearts he’s broken. Plus, Dominic – due to their surface similarities – was the indirect cause of me getting together with Jed. Basically, it would be like going back in time and hooking up with the man who I thought for a long time was The One That Got Away, but who is in fact The One Who Turned Out to Be Very Different from Who I Thought He Was and Is Definitely Not the One For Me. It would be madness.
And Jed…Jed. I haven’t replied to his message yet. I haven’t had enough time alone to think about what I want to say. Iamgoing to reply, because for seven years he was a huge part of my life, and I want to remain on amicable terms with him forever. I’m still on Happy-birthday-I-hope-you’re-well terms with his mum and sister, and I want Jed to be happy, and it would feel weird never to speak ever again. Obviously it would kill me a little if I discovered that he’d met someone else he was serious about and was having a baby with them (for example), but not because I don’t want him to be happy, just, I suppose, because it would feel like a huge rejection of me, since that was the reason we split up.
I think I might be in serious danger of overthinking things (something I know I’ve been doing fairly often this year) but itisweird that he texted me out of the blue and told me he missed me. On the twenty-ninth of December. It would be a lot more normal, surely, to text me on Christmas Day or New Year’s Day and say Happy Christmas or New Year andnotsay he missed me. His text read like he just suddenly couldn’t hold it in any more and wanted to speak to me.
So how should I reply? Should I say I miss him too? Or… not?
No. I should not say I miss him too. I should say something very bland and see if he says anything else. And then if he does… well, I’ll think about that when it happens.
Before I can continue with the overthinking, I whip my phone from my bedside table and send him a quick reply:
Hi! All good here thanks. Hope you’re well too! Happy New Year for the 1st!
Done. Thank goodness. Now I need to push him out of my mind and get on with enjoying this amazing trip. Beginning with going straight to sleep now because we have an early start in the morning.
The morning.
Dammit. Dominic and I didn’t agree what we’re going to do when we wake up. He’s probably an early riser who goes for a run every morning before his very healthy breakfast. I don’t want him to feel he has to lie in bed until I’m awake, which will certainlynotbe early.
I get out of bed and go over to the sitting room door and knock, hoping he hasn’t gone to sleep yet.
‘Mmm?’ Dominic replies.
I open the door but stay behind it, suddenly conscious that my pyjama shorts are very short and my top is just a vest, and I do not want him to see me like this. I also don’t want to see him in bed, because I don’t need that image imprinted on my retinas and stopping me from sleeping; justimaginingit is bad enough. And it feels really weird thinking about Dominic in bed when I’ve just texted Jed, however much of a nothing that text was.
‘What do you want to do in the morning?’ I ask from my side of the door. ‘Are you an early riser?’
‘Fairly early, yes.’
I nod in the darkness. Of course he is.
‘What would you do in the morning if I weren’t here?’ I ask. ‘Would you for example go for a run or for a swim or to the gym before breakfast?’
‘Maybe.’ He’s laughing. ‘You’re welcome to join me in any or all of those.’
‘Yep, no, I’mreallynot a morning person. So basically I thought I would just mention that I don’t want to ruin your morning so you’re very welcome to come through the room to the bathroom as soon as you wake up so that you can get going whenever you like.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t want to disturb you.’
‘Very sure. It’s highly unlikely that youcouldwake me up because I am adeepsleeper, but if you did,I’m sure it would be good for me.’ I suddenly have a vision of Dominic waking me up the way he did that morning all those years ago and get very hot in my behind-the-door position.
‘Okay. I’ll see you in a few hours’ time for a crack of dawn ten-mile run then,’ he says.
‘Hilarious,’ I say in my best sarcastic tones. I’m smiling, though.
* * *
I’m not sure how easy it will be to get to sleep knowing that Dominic’s on the other side of the sitting room door, but we’ve had a tiring day and the bed is beautifully comfortable and the duvet the perfect weight, and I realise when I’m woken by the sound of a door clicking closed that I must have drifted off immediately last night.
My first thought iswhere am I?My second isoh my goodness I’m in South Africa in this suite and that sound came from the direction of the bathroom so Dominic must just have walked past me and seen me in bed asleep. I don’t think I snore or drool – Jed never mentioned that I did, anyway – but who knows whatelseI might have been doing in my sleep.
By the time Dominic’s out of the bathroom, dressed in sports kit, naturally, I’m nicely arranged exactly in the middle of the pillows, on my back, slightly propped up, clutching the duvet to my chin, looking as un-embarrassing as I can possibly manage.
‘So, our run?’ he says. ‘Ready to go in five minutes?’
