Page 17 of The Island Villa

“And you don’t you want to take Mark?”

Adeline wondered why Mia kept bringing the subject back to Mark.

“He doesn’t like Shakespeare, and I respect that, just as he respects the fact I find tennis boring. He doesn’t expect me to join him on the courts, or in the stands as a spectator. He has his own group of friends for that.”

Mia tilted her head. “As a matter of interest, what do you do together?”

“Plenty of things. Just yesterday he booked a sourdough baking class for us both.”

“A sourdough baking class.” Mia repeated the words slowly, as if she couldn’t quite make sense of them. “You’re making bread together. That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s the second saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Mia said. “Why isn’t he taking you salsa dancing, or whisking you away for a spontaneous weekend in Paris or Rome?”

“We’re busy people so spontaneous doesn’t work for either of us. And I don’t dance.”

“But you should dance, that’s my point!” Mia leaned forward. “When did you last let yourself go?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

Mia waved her hand. “When did you last do something rash and impulsive? Something you haven’t planned six weeks in advance? When did you last lose control, sleep with a man you’ve just met, go to work wearing the same dress you wore to party until dawn?”

Adeline frowned. “Both those suggestions sound awful. Although if you’re speaking from experience, then I’m more than happy to hear details.”

Mia sighed. “Your sensibilities would explode. Do you honestly love him, Adeline?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you love Mark? You know—counting down the hours until you see him next, heart racing when he walks through the door, don’t ever want to be with anyone else because being with him makes you feel great, that kind of thing.”

This, Adeline thought, was why so many relationships didn’t work.

How could they, when people were making a life choice based on transient feelings?

“It’s not his job to make me feel great. It’s not his job to meet my emotional needs. I don’t expect someone else to make me happy. I’m responsible for my feelings.”

“You’re sounding like a textbook.” Mia tried again. “Is he your soulmate? Is he the one?”

The conversation was starting to make her uncomfortable. “I don’t believe in soulmates. And I don’t believe there’s only one person for each of us. How can there be? Statistically, it would be impossible to meet one person destined for you. How? Where? What if the one person for me lives in Peru and I’m in London? And how are we supposed to identify each other? The idea of it is ridiculous. There are many people we could each be happy with.”

Mia gave her a long look. “And yet you hate the fact that your mother is now on her fourth marriage.”

“Just because there are many people out there you’ll be compatible with, doesn’t mean you always make the right choice. My mother follows impulse. She has these wild romantic notions, and thinks with her heart, not her head.”

“A trait that has made her extremely successful,” Mia said dryly. “I’m still not understanding what you get from Mark. Is it sex? Or do you do that yourself, too?”

Adeline felt her cheeks heat. “Our sex life is fine, thank you.”

“Fine? Will you listen to yourself?” Mia thumped her glass down on the table. “Whatever happened to passion? What about the heart-racing-eyes-across-a-crowded-room feeling? I’m talking about the type of chemistry, and the type of sex, that isn’t scheduled in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, or whenever it is that you and Mark spend time together.”

“Tuesdays and Fridays,” Adeline said flatly. “I have my yoga class on a Thursday and Mark has—”

“Okay enough. Stop. You’re killing me.” Mia tipped her head back and then sighed. “If that’s a good relationship you’re describing, I’m not interested. Sourdough baking? I’ll stick with walking home in the early hours wearing the dress I danced in the night before.”

Adeline wasn’t offended. She knew that most of the population dreamed of romantic love. It was the reason the divorce rate was so high. She found it exasperating.

“Let’s change the subject. We’ll never agree on this one.”

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