Page 116 of I Knew You Were Trouble

He nods and this is the part where I am supposed to go, but my feet are rooted to the spot. It doesn’t help that he’s standing between me and the door. His gaze latches onto mine, but it’s unbearable and I look away, hitching my handbag strap further up my shoulder.

‘Okay, I’ll get out of your hair.’ I stride towards the door, deviating around him, only as I pass, he captures my free wrist with his hand.

‘Kate…’ he whispers, and for a millisecond, I think he’s going to ask me to stay so we can talk things through. ‘Safe travels,’ he says instead.

Suddenly, there’s a lump in my throat the size of Trafalgar Square and tears prick my eyes.

How?How did I give my heart freely to a prick like Jon, but when a good man like Willem comes along, I cock it up?

I don’t trust my voice, so I nod sharply, then leave, and this time when the front door closes, it feels final.

I look up and down the road where cars are parked bumper to bumper on both sides and the footpath is littered with bikes. It’s unlike me to not have an exit strategy – I should have ordered an Uber or called a cab – but a lot of my behaviour of late is unlike me.

Worried that Willem might be watching me out his front window, I walk down the road away from the canal. Margot gave me the name and address of her hotel, but the thought of checking in, then sitting there by myself all night, stewing, is unbearable.

No, if I’m going anywhere, it’s home. I get to the corner and fish out my phone to order an Uber to the airport.

* * *

Sunday arrives wet, grey, and miserable – typical of London spring weather to lull us into a false sense of ‘it’s getting warmer!’ then have us digging out winter woollies at least one more time.

The weather’s also a fitting accompaniment for my grim, miserable mood. Only yesterday morning, I woke up next to Willem in Italy – blissful, hopeful, thoroughly ravished – and now I’m back in London.Alone.

I bundle myself into my fluffy robe and Uggs and go to the kitchen to make myself a coffee. Even before the water boils, I know this will be a poor cousin to the coffees I enjoyed in Italy – or the coffee Willem made me in Amsterdam. I may be spoiled for drinking instant coffee ever again.

That’s not the only thing I’m spoiled for.

Now that I’ve discovered there are decent men in this world – kind, honest men, men who can make my toes curl simply by looking at me a certain way – I will never be able to accept ‘good enough’ again. The Kate of today wouldneverfall for someone like Jon. I suppose that’s one good thing to come from all this. I’ve upped my standards.

But I’ve also cocked things up with the decent, clever, sexy man across the Channel, so it’s hard to chalk this up as a ‘win’.

I eye my phone, which is sitting on the benchtop face-down. I haven’t yet summoned the nerve to check my messages.

No doubt, Jon will have sent his obligatory I-miss-you message without bothering to enquire about my ailing health, despite me telling him I have the flu.

But worse, I won’t have heard from Willem.

I heave out a self-pitying sigh. I really didn’t think this through, being back in London without Margot and with nothing to keep my mind off things. Though I seem to have made a habit of not thinking things through.

The kettle boils and I pour hot water into my mug, absentmindedly stirring while I consider how to spend my day. There’s always work I can catch up on but Mina frowns upon working over the weekend unless absolutely necessary. I doubt replying to bog-standard emails or getting a jumpstart on my monthly reports will count as ‘absolutely necessary’. Working would only earn me a friendly earbashing tomorrow about work–life balance.

What about Poppy?I think. Shehasbecome a confidante of sorts and she doesn’t judge me – even when I’m behaving like a complete idiot. She also has terrific insight; maybe she’ll have advice for me about how to stop sabotaging my own happiness.

I suppose I could ask her to lunch – she can only say no. I pick up my phone to message her and it vibrates in my hand. It’s Margot:

Heading down to Rotterdam with Adriana and Lucia for the day. Flying back to London tonight. Love you. And stop moping. It will all work out.

Ofcourseshe knows I’m moping – more so now that she’s shared her plans for the day. If I’d just stayed in Amsterdam,Icould be on a day trip to explore a new city with my bestie and my new pseudo-friends.

‘Gah! Just message Poppy and ask if she’s free, you silly muppet.’

I do and she is. Finally, a bright spark in this otherwise bleak day.

We make plans to meet at The Black Penny in Covent Garden at 12p.m. and I head into Central London early to take myself to the National Gallery. Hard to stay miserable when basking in the greatness of Degas, Monet, Cézanne, and Van Gogh.

27

KATE

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