Page 73 of One Bed

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug that could mean ‘whatever’ or that he agreed. The knot was back, tighter than before, acid flaming in her stomach. He was being end-of-the-world serious; he wasnotgoing to talk to her.

Bea dropped her legs and stared at the pebbles beneath her feet. She could say it was fine, could keep taking whatever he’d give her and push her resentment away. Or she could walk away, telling him she wanted everything or nothing at all. She knew so little about him and had no idea what made him tick.

She was the only one standing in the storm, emotionally battered and whipped. He was somewhere else. Safe, and keeping himself dry.

Had meeting her changed him at all? Had she taught him anything? What was he risking? As far as she could tell, nothing. She was all in, and he stood on the edges of the maelstrom, watching her twist, unwilling to join her.

Bea realised she had another choice to make, and it was a big one. She could compromise or she could be brave and stand up for herself by demanding more. But if she did that, she could lose him…

Before she could decide, Gib spoke, his deep voice low and quiet. ‘This is just a fling, Bea. It’s not supposed to be this serious.’

Was he blaming her? It sounded like it. ‘And that’smyfault?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ he countered. She knew he was irritated, she could see it in his eyes and his tight mouth. Well, tough. She was beyond irritated, she was really pissed off.

Hurt, too. And that hurt would probably deepen and spread, but right now she was as mad as a raging river in full flood. What the hell was wrong with this man? Would it hurt him to give hersomething? Anything?

‘Look, Bea, we’ve only known each other for less than two weeks…’

Yeah, she knew what was coming next. ‘I’m not at a point where I feel comfortable sharing my inner world with you.’

And wasn’t that another verbal slap. What was wrong with her that he didn’t feel like he could trust her? No, wait, hold on … why was she somehow at fault for him being unable to open up? This washisissue, not hers. She wasn’t in the wrong here, she wasn’t the one who was emotionally fucked up. OK, she was, but not as badly as him.

Bea pulled her shirt over her bikini top. She stood and stepped into her pretty, short floral skirt. Instead of her habitual flip flops, she’d worn a pair of beaded sandals, thinking that she and Gib would go out for a drink, maybe supper later.

This day had been long enough, though, too much had happened, and she needed some space, some distance. For the first time since last Sunday, she didn’t want to be around him. Now she was desperate for the privacy he claimed he wanted.

She didn’t know how she was going to share a bed with him tonight, but that was for later. Right now, she just wanted to go back to the villa.

‘Bea—’

She didn’t want to hear his excuses, to listen to his justifications. Nothing he said would make her feel better, so it was better he said nothing at all. ‘It’s been a hell of a day, Gib. Will you drive me home now?’

He placed a hand on her arm, and she looked down at it, wishing he didn’t make her body sing. But, like his unwillingness to talk, it was something she needed to live with. Or not live with. She had to work that out.

‘We can talk about this, Bea.’

‘Bullshit!You can’t, or won’t talk to me. I do all the talking, I open myself up to you, lay it all out, and you dip in and out, skimming the surface. I don’t know if I can do that anymore.’

His mouth tightened. ‘Are you saying we’re done?’

Oh, God she didn’tknow! ‘I’m saying that I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m saying that it's been a long day and I want to go home. Will you take me home, or should I call a taxi?’

He stared at her, obviously frustrated.

‘I’ll take you.’ He picked up his shirt, dragged it over his head, and placed his sunglasses on his face. Picking up his keys, phone and wallet, he placed a hand on her back to steer her to the car.

She sidestepped and moved away from him. She didn’t need his guidance, just like he didn’t need her questions.

ChapterFifteen

Gib walked from the en suite into the bedroom, sighing when he saw Bea with her back to him, her palms under her cheek, pretending to be asleep. She lay on the very edge of the bed, as far away as she could get from him. Great, the Great Wall was back up, without the pillows, but still insurmountable. He walked over to the credenza, placed his phone on top of his state-of-the-art charger and looked out of the window, the full moon hanging over the sea. This wasn’t how he’d thought today would end.

Bea didn’t say anything to him on the drive back to the villa, and when he placed his hand on her thigh, as he normally did, she pulled her leg out of his reach. He knew she wasn’t happy with his response on the beach today, but what did she expect? That because she’d opened up to him, he could reciprocate?

Didn’t she know that if he could he would?

But keeping himself closed off, safe from ridicule and judgement, was a habit he couldn’t seem to break. God, she was so much stronger than him. She’d survived being a child forced to take on adult responsibilities, simply rolling up her sleeves and getting it done. He didn’t, not for one moment, doubt that Bea would rewrite her book, and do it spectacularly, because she knew how to bounce back, she’d been doing it all her life. She might say she was scared of criticism, of being judged, but, as far as he could see, she was pretty well-adjusted.

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