Page 75 of The Wake-Up Call

“Not yet. Would you like a table in the bar for a coffee?”

I hate that I have to be polite to this man. I hate that he gets to buy Izzy flowers and I don’t.

“No, I can’t stop. Just wanted to see if she’s still on for this evening.”

I take too long to answer, and he tilts his head, eyebrows raised. Reminding me that he’s a customer, and ignoring him isn’t an option.

“I don’t know,” I say. “But she didn’t mention having plans this evening.”

“I’m taking her to the Winchester Christmas market. Parking’s a nightmare, but I’ve got a friend with a space in Fulflood, so we’re set,” he says with a little smile, as if to say,Aren’t I the lucky one?

She can’t be seeing Louis tonight. Tonight isournight.

“Would you like me to give her a message?” I snap out.

“No, don’t worry,” Louis says, tapping the desk again and pushing away. “I’ll just WhatsApp her.”

All the tension that left me in the gym is surging through me again. My phone rings; I answer too quickly, desperate for the interruption, and the person on the other end of the line says, “Oh, hi,” taken aback.

Louis gives me a small wave as he heads for the door, and I resist the temptation to return this with a rude gesture.

“It’s Gerry,” says the man on the phone. “My son said a woman rang about a ring?”

I sit up straighter. “Yes, sir,” I say. “Can I help you?”

“It was a long, long time ago, but I actually do recall a lady losing an engagement ring while I was staying at your hotel. She asked for my help looking for it. In the end, we never tracked it down. She told me she’d get a replica made so as not to upset her husband, who was a lovely bloke, loved her to distraction. Sorry, I don’t remember their names.”

I jot this down. “Can you tell me which ring it is you’re referring to, sir?”

“An emerald one. Izzy Jenkins emailed me?”

“Thank you so much for calling,” I say. “It’s all written down—I’ll let her know.”

She walks in just as I tuck the note I’ve written under her keyboard, beside her to-do list. My whole body tightens at the sight of her, and I smile—I wouldn’t be able to stop myself even if I wanted to. She looks beautiful. She’s in her uniform, rucksack slung over her arm, gold rings glinting on her fingers and her ears.

“Lucas,” she says with a quick arch of her brow.

“Izzy.”

I watch her as she comes around behind the desk, slinging her bag under her chair and turning her computer on. She side-eyes me, ponytail bouncing. Her hair is still striped in red and orange, and beside the fine gold necklace she always wears is just one more, with a tiny broken heart pendant. I wonder why she made those choices—the fiery hair, the heart.

She reads my note and frowns.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing, it’s just... this makes things more complicated with the emerald ring. If half the couple don’t even know it was lost, because the woman kept it a secret...” She purses her lips. “Never mind. I’ll get there.” She widens her eyes slightly at her to-do list.“Somuch to do today. Chat through the snag list for the bannisters with Irwin, negotiate some deals we can actually afford for staff at the Christmas party, torture you interminably until the evening comes...”

She meets my eyes, and her expression is pure wickedness. My heart lifts: She isn’t seeing Louis tonight. She’s got plans withme.

“It’s going to be a long day,” she says.

•••••

She makes me wait until eleven before she plays her first move. I return from a trip to the post office to find her looking up at me from the desk with a quick, devious smile that hooks something in my chest and pulls it taut. She stands, reaches for my desk chair, and wheels it away towards the lost-property room.

“Am I using your chair today, or...?”

“This way, Lucas!” she calls.

---