Page 32 of One Bed

‘I thought I’d give you some space to shower, to get into bed, to avoid feeling awkward after we shared the hottest kiss this side of the sun. But when I came back you were perched on the side of that fucking stupid couch, pretending to be asleep.’

Crap.She had to work on her acting skills. Bea nibbled on the inside of her cheek and thought about a way to get out of this uncomfortable and frankly miserable conversation. ‘I’ll go into Fira today and buy a mattress, or I’ll sleep on a couch in the house.’

Gib reached across the table and held her wrist in a firm grip. ‘Stop it, Bea! Just tell me what happened to change your mind about trusting me.’

‘I never said I trusted you!’

‘You would never have suggested us sharing a bed if you didn’t,’ Gib shot back. OK, damn him, that was true. ‘Tell me the truth, Bea.’

She looked down at his fingers gripping her wrist, long and broad, with neatly clipped nails. His grip was light, as if he was conscious of his strength, and of his size. What should she do? Tell him the truth – that she’d freaked out at the idea of sharing the bed with someone who’d just got lucky? – or brush off his concerns and allow him to walk away?

‘Talk to me, Bea. Help me understand.’

Beas lifted a shoulder to her ear. She was too tired to argue. ‘We kissed, and, as you said, I backed away. I felt a bit overwhelmed and shocked at my response.’ Her embarrassment level was already high, so what would a little extra truth matter? ‘I haven’t dated for a long time, many years rather than many months, and I’m very out of practice.’

He nodded. ‘OK. For the record, you wanting to go slow wasn’t an issue for me.’

She winced and twisted her lips. ‘But you still went into Oia.’

He lifted his hands, obviously confused. ‘Yeah. I went to the bar you recommended for a beer. Walked around the town for a while. Came back.’

Was it possible that he hadn’t got any action? ‘You didn’t meet anyone?’ she asked, her voice higher than normal.

‘I spoke to two older gents from Dublin, and I bought them a beer.’

He was going to make her say it, to spell out her fears. ‘You left here frustrated…Shit!’ She placed her hands on her face, peering at him through her fingers.

Understanding jumped into his eyes. ‘Are you asking me if I met another woman, if I picked someone up for sex?’

She stared at his water bottle like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. ‘Like I said, you were …frustratedwhen you left. I thought you’d want to finish what we started. Even if we hadn’t kissed, I still wouldn’t want to sleep next to you after you’d had sex with someone else.’

He was quiet for so long that Bea had to look at him, and when she did, she saw the anger in his eyes, his thin lips and the muscle ticking in his jaw. Oh, God, he was properly pissed. But what else was she supposed to think? She’d lived with a man who routinely moved from her bed to someone else’s, who treated sex the same way people treated takeaway coffee. She’d been out of the dating game for a while and, for all she knew, that was acceptable hook-up behaviour these days. The dating world moved fast.

‘I’m going to say this just once… I didnotsleep with anyone else last night.’

OK, good.Phew.

‘I would never disrespect someone like that, sharing a bed with one woman – even if it’s only because of a stupid arrangement cooked up by your godmother –and sleeping with another. I amnota disrespectful prick.’

She believed him and the layer of ice surrounding her heart melted. Maybe Gerry was the exception to the rule. That made her feel a little better about the male species. Or maybe Gib was one of a kind.

‘Thanks for that.’ Wanting to move on – conversations like this made her feel she was rolling in poison ivy –she asked him why he thought Golly was up to something.

‘No, you’re not going to squirm out of an explanation.’

Fuckshitdamn.

He lifted his finger and pointed it at her nose. ‘Why would you think that of me? Apart from refusing to leave the cottage I hired, I have been nothing but respectful of you and this situation. So what’s going on in that pretty, but frustrating, head of yours?’

Gerry made her feel inadequate, frequently told her she was a terrible lover, and that she’d never been able to satisfy him in bed. (Or in life.) Last night, tired and overwhelmed, her insecurities had welled up, and she’d assumed Gib was like her ex and that he’d left her to go trawling for some action. But she couldn’t tell him any of that. Not now, or at any time in the future.

She’d endured enough humiliation on that front, thank you very much.

She’d worked through their relationship, and had some therapy to deal with the pain of him and her mother hooking up –a double betrayal. She also now understood that she’d been less than enthusiastic about sex because her life had been demanding. It was hard to work a full day, write at night, juggle the bills and pick up after her man-child partner. It was hard to feel sexy when you were overwhelmed and lacked support, when you were the one who held up the sky so it didn’t collapse on their heads. She’d done that as a child, and had continued to do it with Gerrie.

And also, sex for her, and many women, started in her head; a conversation, a little laughter, and maybe, if she was lucky, some flirting. Gerry hadn’t been fluent in any language but grunt.

Gib’s huge sigh reminded her he was waiting for an answer. An answer she couldn’t give him. He pushed his hand through his wet hair and pushed up from the table. ‘Jesus.OK, then, I’ll get my stuff together. I should be out of your hair in fifteen minutes, maybe even less.’

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