Page 107 of The Wake-Up Call

“Then why does it say...” He trails off. “You have really bad handwriting,” he says after a moment, and there’s an edge to his voice now.

“I am so sorry, Louis.”

“So it’s Lucas you want, then,” Louis says, stepping back slightly. The sunset bathes us in rosy light; it’s a very romantic setting. I suppose that’s why he got the card out. The perfect moment. “It’s always been him?”

The question floors me. Because... well, yes, it has, really. I’ve cursed him and crossed him and kissed him, but yeah, it’s always been him, hasn’t it? Nobody has ever made my cosy warm heart beat the way he does.

I was infatuated then, and if I am entirely honest with myself, I’m infatuated now.

And he never knew. Henever knew.

“I really am so sorry, Louis. But I need to go, I’ve got to...”

He frowns, interrupting me. “Your colleague, that sorry-for-herself one, she gave the card to me. She said it was for me.”

I wince. Poor Mandy has never complained about my handwriting, but Lucas always says she gets him to translate half the stuff I write down. I thought he was exaggerating. It’s always perfectly clear tome.

“I guess she must’ve read it wrong, too. I’m sorry.”

Louis’s expression shifts. He seems to go from affable to calculating in a flash.

“Does Mrs. SB know you and Lucas have been getting off with each other on company time?”

I stare at him. “What? No, she... But we haven’t been...”

I trail off. Because, well, we have, a bit.

“What are you going to do?” I ask. “Dob me in?”

I’m kind of joking, but Louis just looks at me appraisingly for a moment.

“Do you know how many women would kill to have me take them to the Angel’s Wing?”

“Excuse me?”

“You think you’re really special, Izzy, with your multicoloured hair and your cute ‘mission’ to save this hotel. But the truth is you’re just a mousey little nobody in a dead-end job. It’s kind of sad.”

My mouth drops open. Louis’s nastiness is so sudden and so unexpected that his words don’t really land at all—in fact, as he slicks back his hair and adjusts his expensive jacket, I find myself wanting to laugh at him.

“A mousey little nobody? Oh, Louis.” I shake my head, shoving the card into my back pocket. “You know what’s really sad? The fact that you seem to think you’re somebody.”

I spin towards the door, already moving. I don’t have time for this slimeball—I need to find Lucas. I need to explain. God, what’s he been thinking all this time? What was he thinking when we had that screaming match after the Christmas party last year? What was he thinking when I said I hated him, couldn’t trust him, never would?

I want to cry. It’s as if the last year has shifted like an optical illusion, and suddenly I’m seeing a completely different picture. I just—I justhaveto find Lucas.

•••••

Poor Mandy is settling in at the desk; Mr. Townsend is in his chair; the motley collection of builders are mostly on ladders; and three restaurant guests are making their way to the door. But no Lucas in sight.

It’s half four—I’ve never known him to leave early before. Typical. I hover in front of the desk for a moment, craning my neck tolook for his car in the car park, but it’s not in his usual spot—he’ll have gone home, to the gym, or to Smooth Pedro’s. My money is on the gym, and I’m itching to get into Smartie and chase him down, but...

“Mandy,” I say, turning to look at her.

“Oh, God, Izzy, I’m so sorry!” she blurts instantly.

She covers her face with her hands. I stare at her.

“You know, don’t you?” she says, peeking out between her fingers. “I promise you, I only figured out what happened the other day when Lucas told me I’d misread Louis’s name on your handover notes. Iswearit was an accident.”

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