I laugh out loud.
‘Not going to give in,’ I say. ‘At the risk of going full toddler again.’ And then I sit on both sofas in turn and pat them.
Flavia pats the edges of the sofa I’m sitting on and then plonks herself down on the other one and pats that one too.
‘I have just out-patted you,’ she tells me.
I laugh again and say, ‘Not at all toddler-like from you.’
‘Never,’ she agrees.
And then she laughs too, and then, for no apparent reason, we bothreallylaugh.
When we’ve returned to normality, both of us literally wiping our eyes, Flavia reaches a foot out and touches one of mine briefly (the sofas are next to each other at right angles, so we’re seated within easy reach of each other).
‘Thank you again for helping me today,’ she says. ‘With all your planning and your logic. It was an amazing day and I wouldn’t have enjoyed it anywhere near as much without you.’
I nudge her foot back with mine and say, ‘Nothing to thank me for. Any logical planner would have said the same.’
We sit there, smiling at each other, and I suddenly wonder how, in the space of one day, we got to this point. She’s become… a woman Ilike. I can’t entirely remember why I found her quite so annoying yesterday.
She breaks our silence. ‘So I’m going to take the sofa tonight and you’ll take the sofa bed again tomorrow night back in the hotel, and in return you’ll go first in the bathroom now and then go down to drinks so that I can have the room to myself.’
I feign shock. ‘Did I notpatthese sofas? Meaning they’re mine?’
‘I’m sorry, but in my world sofa-patting is not legally binding. Youhaveto let me take the sofa or I won’t sleep out of guilt. And now youhaveto go into the bathroom because otherwise we’ll be late for our sundowners.’
‘I’ll think about the sofa,’ I say as I gather up clothes and my toiletries bag.
‘No thinking necessary.’ Her cheeky smile stays with me as I close the bathroom door behind me.
I take a cold shower, but it doesn’t do as much as I would like to stop me remembering how good Flavia and I were in bed together all those years ago and wondering what a repeat would be like.
‘We seem to have become friends,’ I tell my mirror reflection as I brush my teeth. Flavia’s lovely and she’s clearly been bruised by events of the past year. I like her very much. I don’t want to hurt her. And I would. Because that’s what I do.
Nothing of that nature can happen between us. Maybe we’re becoming the old cliché: just good friends. Clichés can be a good thing. They’re there for a reason.
9
FLAVIA
Dominic looksgorgeouswhen he comes out of the bathroom. Being newly-out-of-the-shower-damp really suits him. His hair is tousled, like he towel-dried it very fast, he’s wearing a dark shirt and dark jeans, which show hints ofverynice muscles when he moves, and, yep, I’m basically drooling.
I’m not sure drooling over Dominic will end well for me, though, so I just smile at him, and say, ‘I’ll meet you there,’ before whipping myself into the bathroom.
I’m ready in record time, because I don’t want to miss any of the evening. I brought two dresses to choose between and opt for the fancier one in deference to the incredible location and general amazingness of today. The dress is maxi length, cobalt blue with a plunging neckline. I team it with strappy gold sandals and lots of lipstick and… well, yes, I feel that I’m looking as good as I’m ever going to manage, and I basically can’t wait to see Dominic – and the others – and am expecting to have a very nice evening with them.
I check my phone before I go and send a few quick messages, replies to Mum and a couple of my girlfriends. I avoid looking at Jed’s message again. I think I’ll just send a breezyHappy New Yearon the first, and that will be that unless heactuallyhas something to say to me, in which case I’ll leave him to say it. I don’t want to think about him any more now; I just want to enjoy this evening.
Dominic has his back to me when I arrive on the terrace, but immediately turns in my direction, almost as though he senses my presence behind him.
His eyes travel the length of my body, and it feels as though he’s making an effort to drag them back to my face.
‘That’s a lovely dress.’ His voice has gone so gravelly it almost hurts.
‘Thank you.’ Suddenly, I can hardly breathe, and my voice has come out sounding way huskier than it has any business doing.
Dominic reaches a hand in my direction and then lets it fall again. I wonder… what he was planning to do with that hand before he thought better of it.
