Page 134 of The Honeymoon Affair

‘I’d feel better if you stayed,’ says Charles.

‘I don’t honestly care how you feel,’ I tell him.

According to the app, the cab will be here in fifteen minutes.

I decide to wait in the hall.

Iseult

Dearest darling Iseult – Izzy. I don’t blame you for not picking up my calls. I’m really sorry for tonight’s debacle. I’m horrified it all went so horribly wrong. I realise I shouldn’t have allowed Ariel to cook for us. I’m so used to her rescuing me that I wasn’t thinking. I know you must hate me right now, but please don’t. Because I love you. I love you more than life itself. Charles xx

What takes my breath away is that as well as calling me Izzy, he’s put two kisses at the end of the text. He never does that, even though he knows I like it. So he’s clearly really upset about tonight. Which he should be. I’m really upset.

I’m sitting in Mum and Dad’s bedroom after helping Steve up the stairs and putting him to bed. He kept trying to worm the night’s events out of me, wanting to know what had gone wrong in paradise, and I’d finally told him to shut the fuck up because he was driving me insane. I reminded him that he was in my house and taking up my space and my time and that he was walking on the thinnest of thin ice. And so he eventually did shut up and agreed to go to bed. But I know he was enjoying himself because he could tell there was something wrong.

Once he was out of the way, I poured myself a glass of wine (another Lidl special) and brought it up to the bedroom. I heard the ping of my phone and I knew by the tone that it was from Charles, but I didn’t look at it. Instead I got undressed and threw my pink cardi into the linen basket for washing, though I’ll have to do a hand-wash and even then I’m not sure the tiger lily stains will come off. Then I went downstairs and fetched the bottle of wine. One glass was never going to be enough to see me through Charles’s text.

So he loves me more than life itself, does he? I mutter as I scroll through it. How much is that relative to his love for Ariel? More? Less? About the same? That’s the reply I want to send him, but I don’t. Instead I switch off my phone, take a huge mouthful of wine, then lie back and look at the ceiling. I think of the first time I saw Charles at the White Sands hotel, and how even then, seeing him alone at his table, I was attracted to him. And how much more I was attracted to him when I saw him dive into the pool at his villa. And then how rude he was on the beach and in the bar when he almost spilled his drink over me, but how charming he was afterwards. And how much fun we had talking about his novel and turning it into a cosy crime. (Well, it’s not that cosy, but it’s still very good.) I think of how grateful he was and how I liked his gratitude, and then how fantastic the sex was between us. How much better it was than with Steve. How much it made me feel that Charles was the one because he cared for me and wanted to cherish me. How much I wanted to love and cherish him too. I don’t want to lose that. I think about how grown up I feel when I’m with him. And how grown up he is compared to Steve. At least, how grown up we usually are. Because tonight we were like children.

Nonetheless, I’m in love with him as much as he claims he’s in love with me.

But is it enough?

I roll over and turn out the light.

#LoveConquersAll #OneForTheProblemPage

Chapter 36

Ariel

Unwritten thoughts slip away like last night’s dreams.

Marcus Aurelius

Surprisingly, I wake up early the next morning, with a reasonably clear head, and after a run alongside the river followed by a vigorous shower, I feel renewed. My hand is still raw and sore, but a couple of painkillers and more burn ointment is keeping the pain at bay. I don’t spend any time thinking about Charles, Iseult and the disastrous dinner but instead settle down in my favourite armchair with a manuscript from a writer named Tamara Bondarenko that’s both funny and moving and keeps my attention for longer than the first three chapters. I make a note to call Tamara in the morning. She could be one of my new signings for this year.

I’m going to need a lot of new signings to replace Charles.

Because if last night has proved anything to me, it’s that I need to stop representing him.

My phone rings.

‘How are you?’ asks Ellis.

‘Pretty good. I’ve been for a run, I’ve found a new author and my hand is much better.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she says. ‘Mum and I are heading home later. I was wondering if you’d like to meet for coffee.’

‘I really don’t want to see Pamela,’ I say.

‘Not Mum. Just me.’

I’ve missed Ellis’s friendship over the last few months, but I’m not sure that having coffee with her is the right move for me. If I’m cutting Charles out of my life, surely I should be cutting his sister out too. And yet it’s always good to have female friends. So I agree to coffee, and half an hour later we’re in a smart café in Clonskeagh.

‘Are you sure you’re OK after last night?’ she asks when we’re both seated with frothy cappuccinos in front of us.

‘Last night was a massive mistake on my part,’ I say. ‘The more I think about it, the more I think I was actually quite crazed to even consider cooking for you all.’

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