Page 52 of Wanting Mr Black

“Oh. Yeah, well, even more reason for you to talk it out, if you ask me.”

I’m not convinced.

She leans back on the bed and fixes me with a look, which tells me I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear. “Okay. Imagine this. You finish it with him. You move out. It’s over. You never see him again outside of work. He’s just your boss, and you’re just another employee. How do you feel?”

Fresh tears leak from the corners of my eyes and slide down my cheeks. My heart aches at the inconceivable thought.

“Bereft,” I whisper. “I wouldn’t be able to stay at Gladstone. I’d have to find another job. There’s no way I could carry on working there.”

“You spent yesterday trying to dance and drink your troubles away and forget, but you know what you really need to do.”

I stare up at the stark white ceiling. She’s right. There’s only one thing that will make me forget, and it’s the person who caused the pain in the first place.

“I know I need to speak to him, but I’m not ready yet. Finding out about the car accident has brought all the memories of Dad’s death back, which isn’t helping. I need a little time to get my head around things … and then I’ll call him.”

“See,” she encourages, flashing me a smile. “Now, come on. You’ve done enough moping around. Let’s get ready and head out. I’ve heard there’s a pool party going on this afternoon.

Twenty-Six

The five-star luxury hotel sprawls across one acre of glorious sandy white Ibizan coastline, overlooking the shimmering sapphire Mediterranean. Bleached wood benches and cabana beds lie dotted around each of the four swimming pools beneath the shade of palm and juniper trees. It’s expensive and very lavish.

I tug at the bright red bikini bottoms I’ve borrowed from Lucy and sit down on the sun lounger, hidden from the scorching afternoon sun beneath the shade of an enormous parasol.

Lucy opens a beady eye and shoots me a look. “Stop fiddling.”

“I feel self-conscious,” I moan, immediately feeling ungrateful.

In my rush to get away from Art and leave the apartment, I only managed to pack underwear, one bikini, one pair of flip-flops and a few dresses. Lucy has kindly lent me some of her things, so I don’t have to bother going to the shop, but the bright red halter-neck bikini I’m wearing makes my boobs feel as though they’re pushed up beneath my chin.

“You shouldn’t. You look hot.”

“Art would have a fit.”

“Yes, well, he isn’t here, is he?” She beckons a passing waiter over. “Two cosmopolitans, please.”

I ignore her request and turn to the waiter. “Can I just have a water, please?”

He flashes us a polite smile before scuttling off.

“Oh, come on. Let your hair down.”

“I did!” I insist, lying down on the lounger. “Last night. And now, I’m paying the price for it.”

I rub a hand across my thumping forehead and stare out across the turquoise waters of the pool in front of us. She’s right; I’m a lightweight when it comes to drinking.

“I’m planning on making the most of the all-inclusive bar.” She shrugs and retrieves her beeping phone from the floor beneath the lounger.

I watch curiously as she taps the screen and breaks into a smile, confirming my suspicions.

“Is that Steve again? He’s been texting you all afternoon.”

“I know.” She grins. “He says he can’t wait to see me again.”

“Sounds like someone’s keen.”

The waiter returns with our drinks and places them on the wooden table between the sunbeds.

She gives him a smile of thanks as he disappears, and she takes a sip of her cosmopolitan. “I do hope so.”

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