Page 33 of One Bed

He was leaving? What the hell? Standing up so quickly that she pushed the bench over, she grabbed his arm. He stopped, looked down at her and lifted one eyebrow.

Letting him go would be easy, he could walk out of her life, and she could carry on as normal. But normal was very boring, and very safe. Yes, she liked her routine, and her independence, feeling safe. If she didn’t engage with people, she couldn’t disappoint them and she couldn’t be criticised or, worse, hurt.

But Gib had brought colour and a lot of excitement into her life. Something about him made her feel strong and, weirdly, secure. In the short time she’d spent with him, she’d felt more like her authentic self, like the woman she would’ve been if she’d had a normal childhood. She felt that through him, she was meeting herself…

Bottom line, she didn’t want him to go. Not now. Not yet.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, dropping her hand. ‘I’m sorry I thought that.’

‘Why did you?’

So he wasn’t going to let her off easily. Bea bit the inside of her cheek, thinking. OK, she’d cracked open the door to her heart, but there was no chance of her flinging it wide open and allowing him to see the mess inside. ‘Can I just say that I’m used to being disappointed, and am very used to people acting badly, and leave it at that?’

He crossed his big arms, his frown not as deep as it was before. ‘If that’s the case, then you need to start hanging out with better people.’

She couldn’t argue with that. She stared down at her toes, wishing she could sink into the floor. ‘And I’d like you to stay,’ she quietly stated.

Admitting that much was hard and if he said no, it would sting.

‘Where are we on sex?’

She lifted one shoulder and looked at him. ‘Not sure yet.’

‘Fair enough. Sharing the bed?’

She couldn’t spend another minute on that divan. ‘That I can do.’

A few beats later, the corners of his mouth lifted, just a little, and his eyes lightened. He pushed his hands through his hair and sighed. ‘You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?’

‘Probably. I am, after all, Golly’s goddaughter,’ she reminded him, and the rumble of his laughter melted the remaining ice between them.

He thought she was trouble? Man, he was confusion, complication and chaos –and craving –in one six-foot-plus package.

* * *

An hour later, Bea and Gib walked into the kitchen of the villa and found Golly and Reena sitting at the vast wooden table, looking like they’d been dragged through the bougainvillaea backwards. Golly was wrapped in an oversized men’s bathrobe that skimmed the floor and Reena was dressed in leggings and a long white, slightly grubby T-shirt.

Both had massive cups of black coffee in front of them and Golly was tucking into the contents of the pot she cradled in her elbow, eating like she’d just ended a month-long hunger strike. Reena’s eyes looked a little glassy, and she swayed to music only she could hear.

Having lived with Gerry, Bea instantly recognised two people as high as kites. Her eyes swung round to Cass, who looked on the verge of tears.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked, though she was pretty sure she knew.

Cass wrung her hands together. ‘We messed up.’

At her nod, Bea turned to see Nadia standing in the door to the pantry. She tipped a rectangular cake tin and Bea saw what looked to be a thin, mangled, half-eaten layer of chocolate cake. Wait, were those chocolate brownies?Yum.Cass walked over and wrapped her arm around her wife, who looked like she wanted to walk into a wall and disappear. Nadia was a brilliant cook but tended to keep her distance from her employer and her guests. There seemed to be a lot of that going around.

And what did they mean they’d messed up? And how badly? Did they forget to order the lobster for the seafood platters? Had they double-booked and were going off back to the UK? Had they inadvertently poisoned the wrinklies?

‘What’s the problem?’ Bea demanded, her voice and panic rising.

Bea felt Gib’s hand on her back, his touch grounding her. Her heart rate dropped from 1,000 to 990, and she asked Cass to explain.

‘Is there any more of this?’ Golly interrupted, holding out her pot to Cass. Her dressing gown was only loosely tied, and Bea caught a flash of a naked, wrinkly boob. Too much, too early.

Walking over to stand in front of her, Bea pulled the dressing gown together and tightened the belt. She looked into the pot and frowned. The contents were yellow and gooey; it wasn’t porridge.

Golly slapped her hand away and tapped the pot’s rim with the back of her spoon. ‘More?’

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