Page 89 of I Knew You Were Trouble

‘Bye, darling. Love you.’

‘Byeeee,’ I sing-song.

I will happily lie to Jon about most things, but he will never get another ‘I love you’ from my lips. I’d sooner lick a public toilet seat.

21

KATE

My flight to Verona dragged, even though it was only two hours long – anticipation, I suppose. I’m now in a cab, zipping through the winding streets, both looking forward to seeing Willem and anxious about the purpose of this trip.

Poor Lucia has no idea we’re about to deliver devastating news.

The cab turns onto a narrow street, then stops outside an arched doorway. While the cabbie retrieves my case from the boot, I get out, looking up at the hotel’s façade. Like many of the buildings in Verona, it’s beautiful. I pay in cash – with a generous tip – then wheel my case into the hotel.

As soon as I enter the lobby, I spy Willem at reception. He’s leaning on the counter and seems to be having an intense conversation with the receptionist.

I sidle up right as he says, ‘I don’t understand how this happened. The reservation was fortworooms.’

That doesn’t bode well, but surely it’s fixable.

‘Hi,’ I say, drawing his attention.

He looks down at me as if he’s surprised I’ve appeared by his side.

‘Hi,’ he says, clearly frustrated. ‘There’s an issue with the reservation.’

‘I heard. What’s the problem?’

The receptionist, who seems just as baffled as Willem, explains that the second room from the confirmation email has disappeared from the system. ‘I’m very sorry, sir,’ she says.

‘And you can’t just add the room back to the reservation?’ I ask.

‘No, I’m sorry. Unfortunately, all our rooms are booked for the weekend.’ She shrugs sheepishly.

I look to Willem. ‘What do you think?’ I ask. ‘Try another hotel?’

Please say we should just stay here. Together. In the one room they do have.

‘I don’t know,’ he replies, glowering at the reception desk.

In all our interactions, this is the most uncertain I’ve seen him, and there’s something endearing about someone as capable Willem being this rattled.

‘Are yousurethere are no other rooms available?’ I ask the receptionist, even though I’d be happy with the one. ‘Or what about a suite? Do you have any suites available?’

Her chocolate-brown eyes meet mine for a moment, then she steps in front of the desktop computer and starts typing quickly. She frowns at the screen, shaking her head and breathing noisily out of her nose. She jerks the mouse across the mousepad and types again. Eventually, she sighs and looks up.

‘I am sorry – I even checked our sister hotel near Ponte Nuovo. But I can call around and find you a second room somewhere nearby.’

Willem scrubs his hand over his face, then turns to me. ‘We really need to get to Lucia’s gallery. What if we leave our luggage here, go see Lucia, then figure out the rooms later?’ he asks.

It occurs to me that by then it might be too late to organise another room – perfect!

‘Sounds good.’

We turn towards the receptionist, who hands over luggage tags with a smile. She seems pleased to be able to help us withsomething. We tag our cases and she takes them from us, securing them in a locked room behind the reception desk.

‘Ready?’ Willem asks.

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