I let the water wash over me, scrubbing all my emotions away to the smell of the lavender shower gel.
*
We check out of the B&B and get a taxi to take us back to the hotel. Turns out, we aren’t all that far away. The forty-minute drive takes us on a picturesque journey through Scotland. I make sure to look out the window and maintain space from James. This was the agreement. I get these sudden bursts of memory, scenes from last night, and feel myself blush, hoping James doesn’t notice.
I sort of want to reach over and squeeze his hand or stroke his hair, now dry and floppy again. But then I remind myself of what things will be like on Monday. Only forty-eight hours away. I picture the morning meeting, how Michael will make a decision regarding our next event and James’ idea. My stomach tightens from the fear of it all. Will we be able to keep this professional? Will we be able to act as if nothing ever happened between us? What if he tells Michael?
“You’re freaking out,” I hear his low voice beside me. I don’t look around though. There’s no way he can tell without even seeing my face. And so, what if I am? It’s none of his business now.
The taxi rolls down the driveway to the looming castle, stopping just outside reception. We stand side by side, both unsure how to confront this situation.
“We can’t let him think he’s won,” James says.
I exhale slowly. “So what? We hate each other again?”
“I don’t know,dowe?”
I blink, finally turning to look at him. He’s watching me with an unreadable, blank expression. I want to ask him what he’s thinking, why he’s being distant, but I know that’s dangerous territory. It’s easier to be practical about this. We both agreed.
“I’ll go first,” I say, striding off, composing my face into one of pure annoyance. By surprise it isn’t hard to achieve. I think that’s because Iamannoyed. Furious, in fact. I want to find Michael and scream at him.
But Michael isn’t even here.
I ask the receptionist to point us in his direction. She says she was expecting us and passes me a note. Strangely, this time, it’s specifically addressed to James, and when I turn to find him a few steps behind, I pass it to him with a glare.
Why would it be for him and not for us both?
James casts his eyes over it. He glances my way once he’s finished. He looks tired or resigned. He sighs. “Michael left yesterday. Wanted to spend his weekend in London.”
“Wow,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.
“He booked us return flights. And he’s put money behind the desk for a taxi.”
“What else does it say?” I ask. There’s more than that on the note.
James scrunches it up, tucking it in his pocket before I can snatch it off him. Well now I’m fucking suspicious. He shakes his head. “Nothing else.”
“Show it to me,” I demand, my hand out, palm flat.
James takes it back out with a huff, passing it across to me. It reads,If you have arrived at the hotel together, I assume you have achieved the objectives I set you. Why isn’t this addressed to both of us? I glare at the paper but the rest of it is just about flights and taxis as James already told me.
“What does that mean?” I say.
James stares at me for a second like I might figure something out, then simply shrugs. “I don’t know.”
I open my mouth to start an argument because something in my stomach tells me that isn’t true. That he’s hiding something from me. But I don’t say anything. Instead, I leave him right there, brewing, as I spin on my heels and storm back out of the hotel lobby and into the surrounding countryside.
I half-expect James to follow but he doesn’t. That’s ok, though. That’s a good thing. And when he finally does join me again, a good thirty minutes later, he has our suitcases. He passes me mine. I mutter a thanks then we climb into the taxi.
*
We don’t talk again until we arrive at Heathrow. James is taking a different train to me, which comes as no surprise – I vaguely know where he lives. He’s closer to the office than me. He gets a direct train into London Liverpool Street. I’ve heard he even has his own flat. Not unexpected now I know how much more he earns than me.
James squeezes his chin as I stroll out of the arrivals gate, walking towards my platform. I have my wallet back now but still no phone. At the ticket machine I tap in the location then pay, turning to find him still hovering.
“What are you doing? You’ll miss your train,” I say.
“I can come with you if you want. Get you to your flat at least.”
