If I thought my inner critic was kicking my arse over that tiny kiss, she’s had a field day with that text message since the moment I woke up.
Selfish bitch. What about Lizzie? How could you do that? What do you want from him? Don’t be an idiot. He’s not interested in you. He doesn’t want you.
If he wanted you, he wouldn’t have reacted like that when you kissed him. He’d have tried to kiss you back.
And then my mind comes back to the crucial question: Why didn’t he reply to my message?
Maybe he really likes Melanie. He must like her if the idea of being allowed to come on my face isn’t enough to tempt him away from her.
Maybe it’s over between us.
Not that it ever began, but if I’m totally honest with myself, I’m not sure I believed I’dneverget another chance with him. After replaying the expression on his face after I slapped my mouth on his, combined with the fact that he hasn’t replied to the message from the other version of me that he met at Delirium, I might have to face facts.
I’ll never have him again.
I groan and stretch, pressing the button by the side of the bed to open the curtains, which recede from the wide window with a mechanical click and gentle swish.
Time for a swim.
I glance at the clock. It’s just after six am, and if I want to go for a swim, I should go now. I’m not sure I can face Rafe at our normal time, but I need to clear my head. If I get up now and swim, I can be finished before he comes down.
Ifhe comes down.
He’s probably with Melanie. Maybe she came home with him. Maybe she’s in the penthouse right now. I can’t bear the thought, and I let out a muffled scream into my pillow.
If Melanie is here, he definitely won’t come down to the pool this morning.
Last night, I left the party as early as was acceptable, partly because I was drunk and didn’t want to make a fool of myself, and partly because I couldn’t handle being in the same room as Rafe anymore. My eyes kept finding him, and not once did he look over. I never caught him staring at me. He had his eyes on that other woman the entire time.
I apologised to Lizzie for my early departure and promised I’d take her out for lunch today before she catches her flight this evening. I can’t believe this day has finally arrived; I’ve narrowed my search for alternative accommodation down to a flat in South London. I was hesitating to commit, stalling for time and hopingthat maybe, somehow, I could stay here, with Rafe. I can’t do that now. Not after that dreadful kiss.
I’ll sign the lease today and leave as soon as possible.
I fling back the covers, change into my swimsuit and robe, and make my way down to the pool. When I get there, it’s empty, as I expected, but I can’t help feeling disappointed.
The last thing I should want is to bump into Rafe down here when I’m hungover and hardly wearing anything, but there’s a sting, a pinch in my heart at the thought that we’ll never swim together again. I’ve ruined everything.
Ilovedswimming with him.
I check the clock. I have forty-five minutes before he and I normally meet, so I can be in and out before he comes down.
I swim fast, but the rate my heart is beating is definitely not just about the speed of my swimming. Rafe might not be here, but I can’t stop thinking about him. What will I do when I see him? What will he do? Will he ignore me? Talk to me, but ignore what happened?
I feel sick. I’m so emotionally confused, I can’t tell if I want to see him or want to avoid him. Both, I think.
When I’ve tired myself out, I get out and hit the sauna. I need to sweat out the booze I drank last night. I don’t feel too bad, seeing as I got to bed early, but I don’t often drink, and I still feel a bit groggy.
I turn the sand timer on the wall upside down and take a seat. I’ll let it run halfway, and then I’ll leave.
That should give me plenty of time before Rafe comes down.
I focus on my breathing, and the intense heat begins to penetrate my muscles.
Soon, I’m covered in sweat. It’s pearling all over my skin when I hear a splash.
I start. If I were a dog, my ears would be pricked. Only one splash, followed by the sound of swimming. It could be anyone who lives in the building, but whoever is out there is alone.
I tip forward on the bench and glance through the sauna’s glass door, catching sight of dark hair and muscled arms as they arc over the water in a graceful, rhythmic freestyle.