Chapter Thirty

‘What?’

‘Carter. He’s here. In the lobby.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, now.’

‘What the hell is he doing here?’

Lauren shrugs. ‘The hell should I know?’ she says. ‘He isn’t looking good, though. Like he hasn’t slept in days. Real rough.’

‘Did he say anything?’

‘Only that he was looking for you. He caught an early flight. Won’t speak to anyone except for you. He kicked up a hell of a fuss with the receptionist when she wouldn’t tell him which room you were in.’

Well, that’s something, I think. It wouldn’t have been a good look to have Carter barge into my suite and find me all wrapped up in the arms of another man. Even at his most mellow, I dread to think how that would have gone down – and based on the sounds of things, he’s not doing all that well.

But why now? Of all moments, why does he pick now to show up?

‘… right,’ I say. I can handle this. No big deal. It’s only Carter. Just… make a plan, that’s all. ‘Let me get changed. I’ll be right down.’

‘Hurry,’ she says. ‘I’ll try and stall him.’

‘You think that’ll work?’

‘I think I’ll last longer than the receptionist. I should at least be able to stop him finding out about… you know. This.’

About Jack. About my infidelity.

No. It wasn’t infidelity at all. How could anyone call it that? Carter was the one who had made it clear that we were broken up, that whatever we had was finished. We were done. There was no on-a-break bullshit, not the way he’d played it. So why the hell do I feel so guilty all of a sudden?

‘Thanks,’ I say.

‘Don’t mention it. Just be quick, OK?’

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

I head back inside the hotel room and close the door behind me. As it clicks shut, I press my forehead against it. The wood frame is cool, the pressure somehow helping to keep my thoughts in order. I can fix this, I think – but what would fixing this even look like?

Think.

I need a plan, that’s all. I can figure it out. I can get rid of Carter without him finding out about any of this, if I just–

‘So… who’s Carter?’

I spin around so fast that I’m in danger of drilling right through to the floor below. In the doorway to the bathroom, Jack is standing with a towel wrapped around his waist, his short-cropped hair still damp from the shower, water droplets still speckling his smooth, dark torso. In any other moment, I would have loved the sight of him like that – it looks for all the world like an invitation to begin one more glorious round of lovemaking – but now I have more pressing concerns.

‘Who?’ I ask weakly.

‘Come on, Ella,’ he says. ‘This hotel… the doors are paper thin. You and your friend weren’t as quiet as you think. Boyfriend, I guess?’ He pauses for a second, like the word and everything it might mean leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. ‘Husband?’

I hate that I might have caused that in him.

‘He’s my fiancé,’ I say. 'I mean, my ex-fiancé.’ Very, very much my ex-fiancé. Very far from my mind. Or he was, anyway.

‘I didn’t you know you were engaged,’ Jack says simply.

‘I… was. Past tense.’

‘Does he know that?’

I nod. ‘Yeah, he knows. He was the one who broke things off.’

‘I see,’ he says, in a voice that suggests he’s seeing a lot of things that aren’t really there. ‘And now he’s here.’

‘That’s what I’m told, yeah.’

‘Looking for you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, it sounds like you two have a pretty important conversation coming,’ he says, pulling on his shirt and suit pants from the night before, despite his body still being a little damp. ‘I’ll take a rain check on that brunch, OK?’

I’ve never seen Jack this quiet, this subdued. Even after he saved me from the mugger in the alleyway outside the Coeur de Vie, when his whole body seemed hard as granite, he still had a playful spark in his eyes. Now he just looks… drained. Extinguished.

Hurt.

‘I get how this must look,’ I say as he finishes getting himself dressed. I wish I could say more, but… well, how am I supposed to explain it? How do I rationalise the fact that I didn’t tell him about Carter before? Never mind the fact that there was no Carter; that when he met me I felt – no, I was – truly alone in the world. How do I explain why I didn’t say anything?

‘Do you? Really?’

‘Yeah, I do. And I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry I have to say that it’s not what it looks like, but… well, you know.’

‘It’s not what it looks like?’

‘Exactly.’ I pause, composing myself. Jack doesn’t take his eyes off me. For a moment I find myself wishing he’d storm off the way spurned lovers always do in the movies – at the very least, it would give me a few seconds’ reprieve, and a chance to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to say now – but he just stands there in front of me, half a room and half a universe away. Fuck it, I think. What’s the worst that could happen? A little honesty never hurt anyone, except for all the times it did.

‘Carter broke up with me,’ I say. ‘Recently. Very recently, in fact. The day before we were supposed to fly down for the wedding.’

‘This wedding?’

I nod. ‘Yeah. Sorry.’

‘So the other night, when you said you were just here to blow off a little steam… I was the steam?’

‘No. Not at all.’

‘That’s kind of tough to believe, Ella.’

‘I know. It’s just…’ How can I put it? How can I possibly make him understand everything that’s gone through my mind in the past couple of days? Hell, I’m not sure I understand it myself.

I take a deep breath. ‘I wasn’t happy with Carter,’ I say at last. ‘I just didn’t realise that until he was gone. But we had this plan, you know? Everything was supposed to fit into these neat little boxes, and as time went by I just sort of stopped questioning whether that was what I wanted. When you met me that first night at the Coeur de Vie, that’s who I was waiting on a call from. Not work. Carter.’

Jack runs a hand over his face. ‘So while I was hitting on you, you were sipping cosmos and praying your ex would take you back?’

‘Yeah. But that was wrong of me. Stupid, in fact. If Carter had called me then, I would have flown right back to fix things, wedding be damned – and what kind of a shitty friend does that make me? But that’s just it. It’s not Carter’s fault, I’m not saying that, but I’m not… me, when I’m with him. I’m not the version of myself that I want to be.’

‘And who do you want to be, Ella?’

I shrug. ‘It’s been five years, man. Maybe it’s too soon to tell just yet. But I know I need a change. A fresh start. I need to figure out who I really am first, and maybe then I can work out the kind of person I want to be. You know, to have something to work towards.’ The words come tumbling out of me, earnest and honest. I’ve never admitted that to anyone before. The idea of not having a plan is terrifying to me… but hearing it out loud, I know it’s the truth. I’m not OK as I am. I do need a fresh start.

And now, perhaps, is as good a time as any.

‘I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this,’ I say. ‘And I’m sorry if you feel like I misled you, or if I hurt you, or if I did anything to make you think that last night wasn’t something really incredible. This last few days have been…’ I pause. Too sappy? Well, in for a penny... ‘I don’t know how I would have made it through these last few days if you hadn’t been around,’ I say. ‘Truly.’

Jack stands tall, but his spines are down now; the bristliness and chill that followed him out of the bathroom has softened somewhat. ‘So you going to see your ex is…’

‘Is me telling him it’s over. For good. For both our sakes.’

‘You sure?’ he asks.

I wasn’t, not until the words are out of my mouth, but it’s the right thing to do. I had never known hurt the way Carter had hurt me with that phone call, with the desire to throw away our plans.

Our plans. My plans. Whatever.

I nod and lean up, giving Jack a soft kiss on the cheek. I can smell the lingering scent of the hotel shower gel on his skin. He smells familiar, now – comforting, close. ‘Yeah, I’m sure. So, so sure. I’ll be right back, OK?’

I can see him struggling with it for a moment, the idea turning over like a rip current beneath his smooth, placid exterior, but then he smiles. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘I’ll wait up here.’

Part of me wishes that he’d lean down and give me a kiss back for luck, but of course he doesn’t. It’s on me now. I’m the one who has to make the call.