Page 88 of I Knew You Were Trouble

Is that what I’m doing, monkey-barring from one man to the next before I’ve properly recovered from Jon’s betrayal?

Before he and I started seeing each other, I was ‘chronically single’, as Margot liked to say. I’d goneyearswithout being in a serious relationship. Have I now become the type of woman who struggles with being single?

As I sip my pint of beer, I scrutinise the question.No, I tell myself. If Willem weren’t a part of the equation, I would happily move on from Jon, content to be on my own until I got up the nerve to ‘get back out there’ – another of Margot’s favourite soundbites, even though she doesn’t follow her own advice.

Willem’s on my mind because it’shim, not because I’m desperate to be with someone and he just happens to be around.

Right?

I let out a lazy sigh. Maybe I won’t know for sure until I see him again.

I picture his blue eyes… How they’re framed with lashes so thick, he could star in a mascara advert… How that shirt he wore to dinner in Amsterdam matched their shade exactly… How they crinkle slightly at the corners when he’s trying not to let on he’s amused, betraying him… How they linger on mine when he’s mulling over what to say next…

My phone rings, cutting through my romantic musings, and I answer it without checking who’s calling, expecting it to be Margot.

‘Hiya,’ I chirrup.

‘Hello, Kate.’

I plummet back to reality with a thud.

‘Jon,’ I say, my mouth suddenly dry.

I take a swig of beer – as much for the Dutch courage as to quench my thirst. I cannot let on that this call is anything but a welcome surprise.

‘I’ve missed you, darling. I so wish I could have seen you this week,’ he says.

Has his voice always had that whiny quality?I wonder.

‘It’s a shame,’ I reply.

He’ll take that at face value, no doubt, even though I’ve internally imbued it with a different meaning.It’s a shame you’re such a lying, conniving, spineless snake, Arseface.

‘Indeed.’

An idea pops into my mind, and I act on it before I can second-guess myself. ‘What about this weekend?’ I ask cheerfully. ‘I’m as free as a bird tomorrow –andSunday.’

My heart is in my throat as I wait for him to respond.

‘Oh, darling, Iwish, but I’ve got to be in Frankfurt first thing to pick up the Tokyo route.’

‘Oh, no,’ I whine, doing a brilliant job of sounding devastated (if I do say so myself). ‘That’s such a pity. I haven’t seen you in anage.’

‘Iknow, darling,’ he says in the most patronising tone. If he tosses in a ‘there, there’ I won’t be surprised. ‘That’s why the phone call,’ he adds. ‘I’ve missed your voice.’

‘Aww, how lovely,’ I say, sounding as if I mean it.

I glance at my half-drunk beer. Either it has magical properties, or I’m in a far better place than I thought I was when it comes to Jon. I’m actuallyenjoyingthis, stringing him along.

‘Look, I best be getting on – flight preparation.’

‘Oh, right.Veryimportant.’

‘I’ll let you know when I’m back in London. Hopefully sooner rather than later.’

Trotting out the typical bog-standard vagueness, I see. Jon has rarely ever committed to a specific date more than a few days out, something I only realised recently when combing over our entire relationship.

‘Of course,’ I say reassuringly.

---