Page 82 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

‘So, about last night—’

But before she could finish, Flick let out a loud groan. ‘Oh God, don’t. I don’t want to think about it.’

Maggie was momentarily confused.

‘Note to self: never FaceTime your boyfriend to put his mind at rest that you’re not having an affair, while in the honeymoon suite.’

‘Oh no.’ As it became clear what she was talking about, Maggie clamped her hand to her mouth. ‘I didn’t think.’

‘Neither did I.’ Pulling a face, Flick lifted her sunglasses and did her scary wide eyes.

Despite the thirty-something-degree heat, Maggie noticed she’d still applied her trademark flicky eyeliner and wondered how it didn’t smudge in the heat. She’d given up with the mascara, even waterproof had melted down her cheeks, making her resemble a giant panda.

‘I went back to our room to have it out with him and totally forgot.’

‘But how could he tell?’

‘Well, the swan-shaped towels might have been a bit of a giveaway but I think it was the plaque above the bed with the big love heart and “Amore” that might have swung it.’

Maggie let out a strangled groan. They both looked at each other. The situation was dire. Which, of course, made it all the more funny, and they both snorted with laughter.

A few guests around the pool looked over to see what the commotion was.

‘Don’t, we must be serious,’ hissed Flick, wafting her hands in front of her face in an attempt to suppress the giggles. But it was impossible. Why is it that when you’re not supposed to laugh, things are always a million times funnier?

‘So what happened?’ whispered Maggie, her face half buried in a towel.

‘We had another massive row and I tried to explain and he got all upset, and then we made up. At least I think so.’ She pauses. ‘I dunno. I’m not very good at relationships,’ she added, as an afterthought.

‘Who is?’ consoled Maggie, shooting her a look of solidarity as she wiped her eyes. ‘I met a man last night and acted all weird. I mean, God only knows what he thought of me.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Flick threw out her hand. ‘Back right up. You met a man?’

Realizing how it sounded, Maggie shook her head. ‘No, not like that. I didn’t meet him, meet him. I knew him before. We both do. Well, sort of.’

‘How sort of?’

‘It was the man at the restaurant in Rome. Where we had the pizza.’

‘The handsome stranger who was staring at you!’ Flick looked triumphant. ‘No way!’

‘Way.’ For once Maggie felt quite hip.

‘I knew he fancied you! What did he say?’

‘Don’t be silly, he didn’t fancy me. He was just being friendly as we recognized each other. We’d both climbed up to the famous viewpoint. His name’s Sander, he’s Dutch.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing. We chatted for a little bit, then we said bye.’

‘Did you get his number?’

Flick was suddenly seeing Maggie in a whole new light. While she’d been holed up in her hotel room, having another tedious argument with Rory, Maggie had been out on the Amalfi Coast, being chatted up by a handsome stranger. Unexpectedly she felt a twinge of envy.

‘No, of course not.’ Meanwhile Maggie was fast wishing she hadn’t mentioned it. She wondered why she had. ‘Though I gave him mine,’ she added, almost as an afterthought.

‘You did?!’