“What if I’m enjoying my own company?” I ask innocently.
“You’re a liar. You think I’m hilarious.”
“I think you’ve confused me with someone else.”
“Sara, I’ll increase the interest I’m paying you if you don’t let me sit with you.”
I snort. “You’re threatening to pay me more money if I don’t want your company? That’s a bizarre threat.”
“I’m thinking three thousand per cent.”
“Gah. Fine. Sit down,” I say, feigning disinterest.
He takes a seat and rearranges his napkin. “It may be that I am suffering from trauma bonding, but I really missed you this afternoon.”
“It’s been six hours,” I say – mouth full of another spoonful of the soup sent from heaven.
“I know but nobody was mean to me. Nobody rolled their eyes at me. Not even a single jab.”
“Sounds awful,” I say, trying not to smile.
He leans forward whispering, “I’m not sorry we missed the cruise.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Why? Because you got to see Naples and Pompeii?”
He smirks. “Yes, Sara. That’s why.”
“Well, I don’t regret it either,” I agree, nodding.
“Oh yeah?” His whole face lights up, hopeful.
“Of course. I met Cole Devaney.”
His sudden laughter makes the woman behind him jump. He twists and apologises. She clearly has no idea who he is because she simply looks offended.
The waiting staff are quick to synchronise our meals. Once Gus has finished his soup we’re served our fish dish. We talk about our favourite parts of the trip so far. I admit I’m missing Roko and his pet dolphin. Gus wonders if the polo he signed for the taxi driver ever made it back to the daughter and whether she was grateful or furious her dad only got Gus to sign his sweaty polo.
I drink slowly, careful not to let myself fall into the same trap as my first evening. A small lump starts to build in mythroat at the thought of it. Gus must catch onto my sudden change in mood because he asks, “What’s on your mind?”
I blink, lifting my shoulders protectively. “Oh, nothing,” I say, trying to brush it away.
“Hey. Come on,” he says. “I’m hardly going to judge.”
“I’m thinking about the first night. How it felt. That’s never happened to me before. I felt out of control.” Gus nods but doesn’t speak. “I’m sorry you had to rescue me that night,” I say.
He frowns, tilting his head. “I’m sorry you were upset. I’m not sorry I found you. I’m glad I could help.”
“It seemed like you’d dealt with that sort of thing before.”
He nods. “Oh yeah. Panic attacks all over the place in my industry. You wouldn’t believe it.”
“I think I could surmise, considering the things you’ve told me.”
“As the concerts got bigger, as my fame grew, the pressure took a lot of getting used to. I used to get panic attacks in the middle of the night. The fear of letting people down, the fear of dropping the ball on the rest of the band, it reaches you when the world is silent. I’d have nightmares for days about forgetting to put clothes on and being rushed straight up onto the stage.”
