The Perfect Girlfriend(48)

I know the answer now, which is that if I can extract a higher degree of security and reassurance from him, our relationship will quickly progress to a much deeper level. All this rationalizing makes me realize that it is the perfect moment to depart.

Like Cinderella, I have to leave him wanting more.

‘I’m going to call it a night,’ I say in his ear. ‘Say bye to the others. Matt’s going to call me shortly.’

‘I’ll come out, get a taxi with you.’

‘No, I’ll be fine, thanks. Stay and have fun,’ I insist.

This is what I mean. He thinks he doesn’t want me, but he’s proving that he does. It’s all up to me to help him come to terms with his feelings so this whole mixed-messages thing stops. Turning him down is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I have no choice.

This time, I’m in it for the long haul.





16


I only sleep for a couple of hours, I’m too agitated. I lie on my bed reliving every moment from the evening. I mull over every gesture, every sentence, every word. Each time, I arrive at the same conclusion: Nate is pliable, ripe to be re-moulded back into the man I knew.

Nate has posted several pictures of the view from the club’s balcony last night, twenty minutes after I’d left. My room internet connection is really slow; it’s frustrating, especially as I can’t access my spy app. Although the general group plans are to meet in the bar again tonight, I need to see Nate before then. Alone. In the absence of not being able to find out anything concrete, the gym is realistically my best option. It’s way too hot to go jogging.

Mid-morning, I head for the gym. There is a small café in the corner, which means I can sit and watch without having to pretend to exercise for hours. Two coffees later, I’m still rooted to my seat. I’ve read a local paper and got bored of checking to see if my spy app works, which it doesn’t. I pick up the in-house phone and dial Nate’s room number, intending to hang up if he answers. At least it will wake him up.

It rings. And rings. Damn. He has gone out.

I wait another ten minutes, in case he is on his way. I wonder if he is in such a deep sleep that he didn’t even hear the phone. Or – my heart sinks at the very thought – maybe he never went back to his own room. He could now, this very moment, be in someone else’s bed. Joanna’s? I stand up, perhaps rather too abruptly, as the man drinking a smoothie at the next table gives me a strange look.

Back in my room, I check his Facebook. Nothing. My spy app is still refusing to cooperate. There is a chance that Nate may have gone for a swim. It’s not his favourite pastime. But perhaps, with a hangover, he will consider it better than no exercise at all.

I put on my costume, replace my gym clothes with a dress, grab a bag and head for the basement floor.

Through the glass, I peer into the pool area. There are several people completing lengths and a couple of kids in the shallow end, but no one who could feasibly be Nate. Just as I turn away, I catch sight of him. He is wearing black swimming trunks and is heading for the Jacuzzi at the far end.

I nip into the changing room and undress as quickly as possible, shoving my belongings into a locker and turning the key. As I step out into the poolside area, the smell of chlorine and floor cleaning chemicals hits me. I stand, dithering, when I realize that the Jacuzzi is empty. Nate is not in the pool either. Bloody hell, I must have been mistaken. I stand, momentarily unsure what to do, when I spot two doors: Sauna and Steam Room.

I pad over and pull open the first door.

Empty.

I shut it and try the second. An over-strong menthol smell emits as I enter.

Amidst the steam, Nate is sitting on a wooden bench, leaning over, his head in his hands. He doesn’t look up.

Placing my towel on an opposite bench, I sit down quietly, feeling the heat against my legs as it moves up through my body. I inhale. I lean back and close my eyes, grateful for the extra few seconds to compose myself. The door opens. I fling open my eyes, ready to go after Nate, but a woman enters. Nate sits up properly. I can tell his eyes are adjusting to the shade and mist, then they widen as he spots me.

‘Lily?’

‘God, Nate. You gave me a fright!’

The woman glares at me.

I mouth, ‘Sorry.’

I smile at Nate and he grins back. I make a ‘shall we leave?’ gesture, by nodding in the direction of the door. He stands up and I follow him out into the relative cool.

I place my towel on a nearby hook and take a swift shower, turning the temperature to lukewarm to cool down. Nate waits patiently for his turn. Whilst he showers, I climb into the Jacuzzi, which is thankfully free from anyone else. I lie back and close my eyes, as though I’m so chilled out that it makes no difference to me whatsoever whether or not he joins me.

He does. He sits next to me. Not too close, but not too far away either.

‘I thought you were more of a gym person?’ I say.

‘I am. I woke up with such a bad head – the worst I’ve had for ages – and I couldn’t face it. I thought this,’ he points around, ‘might help.’

‘And has it?’

‘A bit.’

‘You need some hair of the dog. It’s the only thing for really bad hangovers. Come to the Venetian with me a bit later. I’m going to explore.’

‘I’m not sure. I think I should take it easy today, seeing as we’re operating tomorrow.’