The Perfect Girlfriend(55)

‘Lily. I’m serious. Everything’s a blur. Just fragments.’ He stares at the food remnants. ‘We ordered food? After a meal out?’

This piece of information seems temporarily more incredulous to Nate than the marriage bit. I think he’s still under the influence. He’ll have to be careful and behave normally – although his alcohol level will be within the flying limits by the time he is due to report for our flight, and Rohypnol barely lasts twenty-four hours, so he should be safe enough.

‘Come and lie back down. You don’t look well.’

He obeys. Lying down, he groans, then closes his eyes.

‘Do you want some painkillers?’

He nods. I take two from my bag. He opens his eyes, lifts his head and I help him swallow by gently tipping water from a plastic bottle into his mouth. His head falls back and he shuts his eyes again. His breathing gets deeper.

I leave him alone for a good hour before I shake him awake. ‘Nate! Go and get in the shower. You’ll feel better. I’ll phone room service and ask them to clear this lot up, as well as bring some brunch. You look as though you could do with something to soak up the alcohol.’

On his way to the bathroom, he picks up the wedding photo and stares at it. He then spends longer studying the marriage certificate. It confirms that we definitely got married yesterday on July the eighteenth.

I hold my breath.

He turns round to look at me. ‘Lily. We need to talk.’

I dial room service. ‘Hello. I’d like to order . . .’ I say, pointing at the bathroom.

Nate picks up his phone and, negotiating the debris, he shuts the door behind him. I replace the receiver and put on a dressing gown. I wedge open the room door and push the trolley outside into the corridor. I can hear the shower running. I twist the bathroom door handle. He has locked it!

The thing is, he’s going to have to make the best of the situation. There’s no point in him fighting this – us – any longer.

The water stops. Silence. He is on the phone to someone. He is talking quietly, but his voice is clear.

‘No fucking idea, mate. You’ve got to help me sort this.’

A knock at the door. I open it and step back to let the waitress in.

‘Where would you like the tray?’

‘On the bed, please.’

I sign, tip and let her out. Nate is still whispering away.

I knock on the bathroom door. ‘Breakfast, darling.’

‘Out in a minute!’

‘OK.’

I remove my robe and pour myself a coffee from the cafetière and sip, whilst looking out the window. I can feel the outside heat on the glass. As far as I can see, there is activity. I imagine other couples, like the ones in the Ford Mustang last night. I bet they are happy, normally planning their future. I don’t want this to turn into a hollow victory. I knew it was a high-risk strategy, but love can grow. And I genuinely love Nate, which is why I’m perfect. I’ll be a good wife, and he will never truly be happy with anyone else. I just need him to understand that. I wish he’d given us more of a chance when we got together last year, because he only has himself to blame for all this.

The bathroom door opens. I keep looking out the window as though I, too, am contemplating the situation. If I act too needy now, he’ll dig his heels in. He pours himself a coffee and stands beside me. He is wearing a robe. It irritates me, because it appears as though he fears that by simply wearing a towel around his waist – as is customary for him – he will be exposed. He’s acting like we’re strangers after a one-night stand.

‘Let’s start from the beginning. Talk me through what happened last night.’

I look him in the eye. ‘The thing is, babe, last night wasn’t the wedding of my dreams either. But . . . we grabbed the moment. Carpe diem and all that. Our buried feelings resurfaced. What’s done is done. And . . . we do love each other.’

Silence.

Nate exhales loudly. ‘Lily. I don’t understand how last night happened. I guess we were having fun and it went too far. But you need to realize that I don’t love you in that way. We split up, not because I didn’t like you, but because I’m not ready to settle down with anyone yet. If ever.’

‘So, last night? All those things you said about how much you missed me and loved me, they were lies?’

‘I can’t remember everything, Lily. There are blanks in my memory. I feel pretty shit.’ He sits down on the bed.

I swing round. ‘Oh? So I’ve cheated on Matt for no reason? Because it’s the sort of thing a woman does without encouragement?’

He raises a hand to his forehead and massages it with his forefinger and thumb. ‘I don’t know how you interpreted it, Lily . . .’

‘I love you. That’s what you said last night. We got married. How would you like me to interpret that?’ I mimic his voice. ‘Let’s do it. Let’s do it for real. Let’s get married.’

‘Lily—’

‘Juliette! I’ve told you, it’s Juliette now. We’re not getting off to a very good start if you can’t even get my fucking name right.’

It’s my turn to lock myself in the bathroom. He pounds on the door.

‘Lily! Lily.’

I turn the taps on full blast and put my hands over my ears. My eye make-up is a little smudged, but I don’t look too bad considering the stress I’ve been under. I study my reflection, looking for changes now that I’m a married woman.