Page 100 of Ride the Wave

‘What?’ I laugh nervously, swirling my white wine round the glass. ‘Adriano, I don’t know what you’re—’

‘Iris,’ he interrupts softly, ‘I have eyes. I can see what is there between you and Leo.’

‘Nothing is there.’ I take a sip of my drink before fixing a smile. ‘But he is a great person and you must be really proud of him. I hope… I hope Australia is everything he wants it to be.’ I glance back over at him, my heart pounding against my chest. ‘He deserves it.’

Watching me closely, Adriano nods slowly. ‘Yes.’

‘Would you excuse me a moment?’

‘Of course.’

Giving him a warm smile, I totter along to the bathroom – that’s the only way I can get anywhere in these Jimmy Choo platform sandals – and lock myself in a cubicle, burying my face in my hands while I use the loo. What is it with the Silva men being able to see right through me? Part of me wants to hide in the bathroom all night and not face everyone out there – I should have told Marina that I’d rather not do anything tonight. That way, it wouldn’t have felt like such a big deal. But marking it like this, all of these wonderful people asking me about my experience here, it’s only making it harder to accept that it’s real. Tomorrow, I’ll be back in London and Leo will be another doomed fling.

How horribly depressing.

But I do what I do best and tell myself that I’m fine, emerging from the bathroom having checked my make-up is flawless, my curled hair is still falling in soft waves, and that my orange mini – a really cute dress with bows on the shoulder straps and a square neckline – is hugging my frame as it should be. Nobody will be able to read behind my smile anymore; I’ll make sure of that.

I’d make an exception for Leo, but for him to read anything about the way I’m feeling at all would require him to talk to me or even look in my direction. But he does well to avoid both for such a long period of time that I wonder whether I’ve upset him. It was a bit awkward this morning when he left the flat for training. Neither of us spoke about tonight – he’d banned me from mentioning my flight home all week, because he argued that by lingering on when I was leaving, I wasn’t committing myself to enjoying thenow.

‘Like when you’re surfing,’ he reminded me, when my legs were entwined around his in my bed, his hand resting on the dip of my naked waist, ‘if you focus too much on what might happen in the future, you miss what the water is telling you at the time and, whatever you do, it will never be as good. You should live in the moment.’

I thought he made a good point and so I stuck to his instructions. But he was quieter than usual this morning, and more withdrawn. One of us should have had the guts to talk about tonight. Instead, the goodbye that has to come is just hanging in the air, a gloomy cloud of grey seeping into all the colour in the room and making everything else grey too.

‘Speech!’ Anna cries suddenly when I’m mid-conversation with the owner of the coffee shop I’ve been spending the majority of my earnings on. ‘Iris, time for a speech!’

I try waving her off, but soon the others all join in with her demands, giving me a round of applause before the bar falls silent. Right at the back, I see Leo hovering, his eyes on the ground. My heart lurches. I can’t leave it like this. I’m going to have to force him to talk to me at some point. I clear my throat, beaming around at the rest of my captive audience.

‘All right,’ I say, with a nervous laugh, ‘I suppose I can say a few words.Obrigada.’

My terrible pronunciation draws a cheer from the crowd, which I wave off with my hand, chuckling with embarrassment.

‘I’m afraid that’s the extent of my Portuguese, as you all know, so the rest of this’ speech—‘Not true, you can order a coffee in Portuguese!’ Marina corrects me, raising her glass, laughter rippling through the room.

‘That’s right, I can. Very important.’ I take a moment to think about what I want to say as the noise dies down again. Taking a deep breath, I smile out at everyone. ‘Thank you all for coming tonight. It means a lot that you’re here to wave me off. I can’t quite believe it’s only been a few weeks; it’s felt a lot longer than that.’

‘Probably because you had to put up with Leo’s conversation,’ someone at the back quips, prompting further laughter.

I watch as his friends clap him on the back and he laughs along with the joke, shrugging and shaking his head. I force a laugh, accidentally looking in the direction of Adriano, who offers me a sympathetic smile. Reaching for my wine, I take a large gulp before gathering my line of thought and holding the room’s attention once more.

‘I have loved my time here and I can only hope that through my writing, I do all of you and your beautiful home justice. It’s strange to think that tomorrow, I’ll be back in England and, to be honest…’ I swallow, my mouth suddenly bone dry ‘…I’m not sure anywhere else has captured my heart quite like this village.’

My eyes naturally flicker to where Leo is standing. He meets my gaze and holds it, finally. Everyone else in the room falls away. It’s me and him. My strength wavers, hot tears pricking at my eyes. I exhale, my breath shaking.

Someone very softly clears their throat. I don’t have to look at them to know it’s Adriano. He’s saving me from myself. Plastering a grin on my face, I tear my eyes from Leo and hold my glass up in the air.

‘A friend of mineveryrecently told me that it’s the people who make the place,’ I declare. ‘Burgau has the scenery, it has the weather, it has the food, it has the wine – but, for me, this place truly is made by its people. So here’s to you!’

The guests cheer, raising their glasses.

‘Oh,’ I add, quickly, holding up my hand, ‘and if, when the article comes out, you’re pissed at anything in there, blame my editor. If you love it, it’s all me.’

I receive a satisfactory wave of laughter before an enthusiastic round of applause. I attempt to make a beeline through the crowd for where Leo was standing. I have to speak to him; I don’t want to wait any longer. But I’m delayed in making my way through the bar, getting caught up in conversations with people I pass and by the time I reach the back, he’s not there. I crane my neck to try to see him, but he’s nowhere. After waiting a good amount of time to make sure he’s not just popped to the loo, and having checked with Adriano and his friends, none of whom know where he is, it dawns on me that he may have left.

‘Screw that,’ I mutter under my breath, furious at him as I march out the door.

He’s not getting away with slinking out of here without saying goodbye. Not after the time we’ve spent together, the way we’ve talked, how intimate it’s been. He might be too cowardly to talk about it, but I’m not – and I won’t let him be, either. So, if I have to nip out of my own leaving drinks to walk all the way to his flat and have out this goodbye, then I bloody well will.

Walking down the rickety wooden path from the bar to the pavement, I have a wobbly moment on my heels and almost go over, groaning at the thought of walking all the way to his in these shoes. Why couldn’t he storm off after yoga when I was in trainers? Selfish prick.

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