‘BUT YOU COULD HAVE...with Fabrizia...’
‘Yes, I could have. But I didn’t want to. I want to be here with you.’
He didn’t want a relationship. For ten years now he had been certain that his lifestyle wasn’t compatible with that sort of commitment. But after less than a week with Amber, he was questioning that decision. He had meant what he said—he didn’t want to get involved. But he wasn’t sure how he was meant to walk away from her either. He was fascinated by Amber in a way he hadn’t experienced before.
He wheeled nearer to her again, leaned closer still until there was no escaping his scrutiny. He wasn’t going to let her get away with hiding from him. ‘The way that we got here, that might have been a set-up, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m enjoying getting to know you. Why do you find that so hard to believe?’
He could see the indecision in her face. See her trying to rationalise their way out of this in the way he was trying so hard to avoid. Enough. He had to make her understand.
He knew that she wanted him: it showed in the quickness of her breath, the flush of her cheeks and the flicker of her tongue to moisten her lips. What she wanted wasn’t in doubt. Whether she could trust him, trust herself, to take it was another question.
He took her hands and pulled himself closer, until his chair was butting up against the overstuffed upholstery. She didn’t believe him when he told her that she was beautiful—maybe she would believe him if he showed her instead. One kiss. He could give her one kiss without it leading to more.
He shifted from his chair onto the sofa, wanting—needing—to be closer to her. He would have to be, if this was going to work. He cupped one cheek with his hand, and bit back a groan as she turned into his palm, hiding her face from him. The light from the candles set around the room caught at her face, dancing golden warmth across the tops of her cheekbones, highlighting the delicate point of her chin, and—like a beacon—the plump dip above her top lip, the very top of her cupid’s bow. He wished she’d look up at him, but her eyes were fixed on the patterned upholstery.
He touched her other cheek with his fingertips and gently tilted her face up. She finally flicked her gaze up to him, but darted it away just as quickly. He ached to kiss her, but didn’t just want to do this; he wanted her to know why.
‘Amber,’ he started, but she placed a finger across his mouth, silencing him. He still held her face in his hands, and she leaned forwards, until her nose nudged at his, and he could rest his forehead against her brow. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Amber caught at her lip with her teeth before she let out a long sigh, closed her eyes and leaned in. She bumped her mouth against his, and for that fraction of a second it was as if every nerve in his body ended in his lips. Her mouth was soft and full, the lower lip just a little plumper than the top as it slipped too briefly against his. Electric shivers of desire burned through every place that their skin touched, and he yearned for her, for more. He knew that he had to be patient; he trusted that if he gave her space she would come to him.
Just as he was about to lose his mind with aching anticipation, she whispered his name. When he opened his eyes, all he could see was Amber. Her lashes, thick and long and a deep charcoal black, cast feathery shadows on her cheekbones, hiding her feelings from his view.
She still didn’t know.
If she truly knew how beautiful she was, she wouldn’t avert her gaze like this. She would be a beacon, bold and fearless, demanding everything that was her right.
He nudged at her chin, and smiled as she finally raised her eyes, defiance in her features. He couldn’t tell her what he thought of her, so he would show her with the heat in his eyes as he looked at her; the way that he let his fingertips dance over the lines of her face, tracing where the candlelight caught at her features, light and shadow. He rubbed his thumb gently across her bottom lip, making sure that she knew that that spot, just there, had been keeping him awake at night.
Just as he was about to lose reason and reach for her again, her hands threaded into his hair and she pulled his lips to hers.
Fire burned through him again, great walls of flame spreading through his veins as she opened her mouth to him, tasting and testing and demanding. With the taste of her, any pretence of self-control was lost. He pulled her closer and her legs across him, folds of bronze silk moving with her, sliding under his hands. With the curve of her bottom nestled in beside him, and the whole sweep of her thigh just waiting for his hands, he finally lost the power of thought. She tasted of espresso and vanilla, of rich red wine and Marsala, and as she shifted on his lap he turned her to press her tight against his chest. And then she was on top of him, a knee either side of his hips and her long, beautiful, perfect spine beneath his hands.
She murmured his name again as he broke their kiss, but it was lost in a sigh as he pressed his lips to her throat. He opened his eyes and lean shoulders filled his vision; he noticed for the first time the light spattering of freckles, coaxed out by the Sicilian sun. They were like stars dotted across the sky, he thought as he brushed his lips against one galaxy, and then another. He followed a constellation down to her collarbones, and breathed in the smell of her rosemary shampoo as his kisses found her neck.
He didn’t care that this was a terrible idea, didn’t care that it couldn’t go anywhere. All he could care about was this, right now: the slide of silk beneath his palms as he ran his hands over calves, thighs, and cupped firm buttocks. The sound of her gasp as his palms explored higher: the smooth sweep of her waist and then back to the warm bare skin of her shoulder.
As he shifted round, tried to fall back against the arm of the couch and pull her with him, he remembered where they were, remembered that Fabrizia could walk in at any moment and find them. He closed his eyes again, but it didn’t work. Real life had found them, and the clip-clip-clip of stiletto heels on a stone floor broke into his consciousness. Fabrizia, nearby.
Amber must have heard it at the same moment he did, because she sat up, breathing fast, and clutching at the neckline of her dress. They both looked across at the door in the same moment, and Amber jumped up.
When Fabrizia walked in, Amber still had her back to the doorway, and Mauro could see her rearranging her expression as she was brushing imaginary creases from her dress.
As she gathered her bag and wrap, and gave their thanks for a wonderful evening, Mauro realised that Amber couldn’t hide the golden glow, like an aura around her that he had helped to light, and she was keeping burning.
They said goodnight to Fabrizia, and he wondered whether Amber would call out the woman who had tried to seduce her date. But in the end, she had settled on a classily subtle smile and a kiss on each cheek, as the memory of their kiss so clearly radiated from her expression.
* * *
Why had she done it?
She had known from the day that she had met Mauro that he would bring nothing but trouble, and now here was where she paid the price.
With the clarity of the morning after, she knew that a kiss like that had to come at a price. For those few minutes last night, she’d forgotten who she was. She had been the imperious goddess that Mauro told her he saw, oozing confidence and sex appeal. But it had been safer there, where they had known, deep down, that an interruption must come sooner or later. Alone in the villa, they had no such safety net.
‘Mauro...’ she had started to say when they’d returned.
‘Do we need to talk about this?’ he’d asked.
‘I think we do. It’s not that that wasn’t...nice.’
‘Nice?’
The expression on his face told her exactly what he thought of that descriptor and she grinned shyly.
‘We both know what it was,’ he said.
‘OK...’ she conceded. ‘I know what it was, and nice doesn’t even start to... But it was a one-off.’ She nodded her head emphatically, but wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince more. ‘Considering that we have both said that getting involved isn’t what we want, let’s just say that it was a mistake. A very enjoyable one,’ she added at the sight of his raised eyebrow, ‘but we should forget that it happened. And keep it just between ourselves, of course. I don’t want anyone to know, Mauro.’
Last night that had seemed like the only sensible thing to do. This morning, she had to ask herself, was that really what she wanted? She had come here with the intention of showing a softer side of herself on camera, maybe flirting a little to get the job done. But now that there was something real between her and Mauro, every instinct that she had was telling her to hide it. To bury it. To shove those feelings somewhere she didn’t have to think about them. Somewhere they couldn’t hurt her. She knew that it didn’t make sense. But there was no room in what she had with Mauro for examination. For expectations. If anyone else were to find out what had happened, if they were to start asking questions, then she was going to have to think about them. She was going to have to think about how she felt about what had happened, and she just couldn’t.
That kiss had been nothing more than enjoying Mauro’s body—part of the weird fantasy life that the TV company had constructed for her this week. That, and their killer chemistry. He had told her that he thought she was beautiful, and just for a few minutes she’d chosen to believe him, to see how that might feel. Now those moments of madness were over, she just had to bury the memory somewhere deep, where it couldn’t hurt her.
And she had to do it fast, because in less than an hour she was going to be on camera, talking about how their date was going. If she got it wrong, her job could be at stake. Ayisha kept telling her to be herself—but she was herself when she was writing, and look where that had got her. As good as unemployed, the last time that she looked. The whole point of her being here was to be someone else, someone that the public liked more than they liked her.
If she was herself on screen today, then what would the public see? What questions would she have to answer? What parts of herself would she have to expose?
In a steaming hot shower, she pushed her memories away, deep into a distant, hidden corner of her brain. Somewhere she hoped they could stay safely during their interview. Good practice, she told herself. For when they left this place and her time with Mauro was just a fond, distant memory. Not something that would affect her in real life.
She dressed in a light silky beach dress, burying the memory of Mauro’s lips where her collarbones were exposed. Tying the shoulder ties a little tighter to cover the cleavage that Mauro had touched so reverently. The plan was for them to have a lazy day on the private beach and in the grounds of the villa. A luxurious picnic had been packed, along with several bottles of ice-cold Prosecco.
She had said little to Mauro since they’d discussed their kiss—it had hardly seemed necessary. They’d said everything they’d needed to already, after all. They both knew that they didn’t want to be involved. They both knew that the kiss had been a mistake.
When she breezed out of the bathroom with her carefully practised air of nonchalance, it was to find Mauro wearing a killer smile and another crisp white shirt, waiting for her in the kitchen. He whistled through his teeth as she approached, and Amber fought hard to keep the reaction of her body down to a brief stutter of her breathing and the lifting of the hairs at the back of her neck. Not bad, she thought. She might carry this off yet.
‘We’re going to be late,’ she said.
‘Everything OK?’ Mauro asked, and she could hear the concern in his voice. ‘Is there something I’ve missed?’
‘Nothing, nothing. I’m fine, Mauro. I just don’t want to keep them all waiting. The sooner we start, the sooner it’s over with.’
He followed her out of the door, but she could still feel his eyes on her. Not the sensual caress of his gaze from the night before, but a harder, more calculating stare. She shrugged off the feeling of unease. She was imagining things.
They walked down to the beach and found the crew waiting for them at a gazebo, where a loveseat with white linen covers was being set up for the interview. Gauzy white curtains fluttered on three sides of the structure, protecting the seat from the warmth of the afternoon sun.
‘Mauro, Amber, great timing,’ Ayisha greeted them. ‘The light’s perfect so we need to be shooting in about ten minutes. Get yourselves on the sofa, we’ll throw some make-up on you both and then get started.’
‘Both of us?’ Amber asked, feeling the foundations of her protective walls take a little pressure. The last thing she wanted to do was share her true feelings about Mauro with the world. That would mean acknowledging her feelings, acknowledging that, much as she tried to avoid it, something stronger than simple physical attraction was developing, something that had the power to hurt her if she dared to acknowledge it.
She would only be able to keep herself safe from hurt if she could block last night from her mind, but how was she meant to do that if she had Mauro sitting next to her? Close enough to touch, to kiss, to smell. To remind her of everything that they’d shared while she pretended to all the world as if none of it had ever happened.
But she didn’t see what choice she had. By the time that she had opened her mouth to protest, Ayisha was already deep in conversation with Piotr, and Mauro was moving over to the loveseat. Amber sat herself primly at the other end, shifting further and further away, until the rattan arm of the chair was biting into her waist.
‘Relax, cara, I won’t bite, you know,’ he said in a low voice that reminded her of last night. Reminded her that she hadn’t minded all that much when his teeth had trapped the flesh of her shoulder, just hard enough to make her gasp.
It took all her self-control to keep her face neutral as she looked over at the TV crew, praying that there were no microphones on them that she couldn’t see.
‘Don’t, Mauro.’
‘Don’t what?’
Did he really not know what he was doing to her? Or was this an act—was he trying to lead the conversation back to that kiss?
‘I just need to relax and get this over with, and I can’t do that if I’m thinking about you biting, or thinking about yesterday, or about...you at all. So just don’t, please.’
I can’t do this if I’m thinking about you. Why had she said that? She wasn’t thinking about him. She’d spent every minute today studiously not thinking about him. And now she’d gone and said that and he was going to think that it was this whole big thing, and then they’d have to have a conversation, another conversation, about how much neither of them wanted a relationship, and then she’d have to die of awkwardness about the whole thing as they went through the motions of the last few days of the holiday.
‘I’m sorry,’ Mauro said, and Amber gave a small smile at the sincerity in his voice. ‘This interview’s going to be fine. Just be yourself.’ She rolled her eyes with a huff, and he frowned.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Don’t do that. Don’t put yourself down like that.’
‘I didn’t—’
‘You did. You rolled your eyes when I told you to be yourself.’
‘Well, yeah. It’s not the greatest advice. Turns out, when I’m myself, pretty much everyone hates me. Or hates my work, at least. No, I need to try being someone else: I’m just not sure who yet.’
The line reappeared between his eyes, the one that told her that he wasn’t happy, but before she had a chance to ask why, Ayisha had appeared in front of them with her tablet computer, demanding their attention.
She smiled, or tried to. The corners of her mouth turned up, but she knew it hadn’t come anywhere close to reaching her eyes.
‘Come on,’ Amber said. ‘Game faces on—let’s get this over with.’
* * *
She pulled her mouth into even more of a grimace, but he couldn’t return her attempt at a smile. Game face? What game exactly was she playing? She’d told him already that she had been railroaded into this by her boss at work, but that didn’t explain why she couldn’t just be herself on camera. It didn’t explain why he could see the protective defences being erected around her as clearly as if they had been barbed wire. She had been herself on the first show, he was sure of that. So what had changed? This forced smile, this fakery—it wasn’t her.
But if a game face was what it took for her to relax, to take a deep breath and shuffle closer to him on the seat... He’d play along—for now.
Before he could say any more, the make-up artist was drenching them both in powder, complaining about the shine from the sun lotion that Amber had used to protect her skin. As soon as it had been banished, Julia was in front of them, they were miked up, and a steady red light was warning him that they were both being watched.
‘So then, you two,’ Julia began. ‘Here we are more than halfway through your date. Can you tell us how it’s going? Do we need to book a church for the wedding or separate flights home?’
Mauro forced himself to keep his eyes on Julia, and not to share a conspiratorial look with Amber, however tempting it might be. He waited for Amber to speak, but no words came. He stepped in, trying to cover their awkwardness with breezy self-assurance.
‘Ah, Julia. You can’t expect us to tell you all our secrets, can you? A man’s allowed a little honour, after all.’
‘So coy, Mauro,’ Julia said with her trademark tinkling laugh. ‘That’s not what we’re used to from you. Surely you’ve got a little gossip for me.’
‘Well, I think you can safely say we don’t need the separate flights. Can’t we, Amber?’
He glanced across at her and knew instantly it was a mistake. She looked up at him at the same time, and when their eyes met he knew that heat flashed between them. That they saw not each other, sitting formally awkward here, but memories of heat and passion, of eyes locked together in intense desire, fingertips and lips exploring and tasting. And then that, all that, was gone, and in its place Amber’s eyes flashed horror and then fear.
‘Of course there’s nothing going on,’ she said to Julia, her voice just a little too loud to be considered natural.
He knew that they needed to cover this. Whatever her motivation for this act she was putting on, he guessed that it must be important to her. Well, he’d always heard a believable lie was as close to the truth as possible. The best way to cover up what had happened between them was to act his usual, flirtatious self. As if this were nothing. ‘Not for want of trying on my part,’ Mauro said, stretching an arm around the back of the seat with a mock yawn. ‘I’ve tried my hardest to seduce this beautiful woman, Julia, but so far she’s resisting my charms.’
‘Oh, really, I imagine that’s taking quite some personal discipline. Are you finding it as difficult as Mauro seems to think you should, Amber?’
Come on, play along, Amber. He willed her to do it, to pick up his thread and weave the story that would keep their cover. They could still save this. He brushed her shoulder with his knuckles, knowing that the move was make or break. The physical contact could tip her over the edge; make her so mad that she spilled their secret. But, as he had hoped, instead she leaned back against his arm, and turned to give Julia a blazing smile.
‘A man with his reputation? I don’t think he deserves an easy time of it, do you? He should have to work for at least one of his conquests, I think.’
Julia laughed and leaned in close, resting her hand on Amber’s in a show of intimacy. ‘And are you planning—’ she waggled her eyebrows like a pantomime dame ‘—on being conquered?’
‘Oh, you can’t expect a girl to answer that,’ Amber answered in a sultry purr. ‘You have to allow us some secrets, Julia.’
Mauro bit back his surprise. A few minutes ago he had been sure she was about to lose it at the thought of giving themselves away, and now here she was flirting like a pro. Why had she changed the rules? Where was the sharp, witty, spiky woman that he was growing to—?
Growing to what? He stopped himself short with that thought.
Not love. Never that.
Love was standing still. Love was saying goodbye to ambition and achievement—not to mention saying goodbye to every other woman he might ever meet. Love was losing sight of all the pleasures and experiences that he might have if he kept looking for the next woman, the next adventure. His lifestyle wasn’t compatible with love, and he wasn’t prepared to give it up. He wasn’t prepared to fail another relationship, another woman. Letting Louise down had been bad enough.
He conducted the rest of the interview on autopilot. Aware somewhere in the animal part of his brain that Amber hadn’t let go of his hand. She was gesticulating with the other, telling some anecdote from their wine tasting. If the story had really happened, he didn’t remember it. She was playing a part, playing up to the camera and to Julia. It hadn’t bothered him the first time that he had seen her do it. But he knew her better now. Knew what she was hiding, knew that she was being this other person because she didn’t think that the real her was good enough. And she was using him to do it. Using him to pretend that Amber Harris wasn’t the goddess that he knew her to be.
He didn’t like it.
Because it wasn’t just her own life she was rewriting. His memories, his experiences were being whitewashed too. Last night, with its heated touches, and soft silk and moist lips, if she was making out as if it never happened, then he was missing out too. She was leaving his life with a giant hole where once there had been sweet seduction.
And all because her confidence had been so battered that she couldn’t face up to what they felt for each other.
He wanted the real Amber here with him. He wanted her really answering questions about what they were doing. About how she felt about him. About where this was going to go. He shouldn’t have to ask her that. This thing was meant to go wherever he wanted it to—which was precisely nowhere. Since when did he need The Talk? He had to pull himself together.
They wrapped up the show, and he held his temper and his tongue until they were on the boardwalk up to the villa and safely out of view of the camera. ‘What happened back there? Who was that on the seat with me? Because I didn’t recognise her one bit.’
That was it. Deflect attention from his own feelings. Perhaps if he could make this all about her then maybe he wouldn’t have to admit how conflicted the last hour had left him.
She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. ‘The way you looked at me, Mauro. We might as well have just told everyone what happened last night.’
‘I get why you want to keep it quiet,’ he said, ‘but it wasn’t that bad.’
‘It was worse.’ She wrapped her arms around her waist as she walked beside him. ‘I just hope that it doesn’t make the final cut on the show.’
Some chance—the whole show only existed to capture moments like that, and he didn’t think that this being a celeb version would get them an easy ride. ‘You know if it was that obvious they’ll definitely use it.’
‘I can only hope that they don’t.’
He let out a sigh of exasperation.
‘Would it be so bad? It was just a kiss.’
For a moment her face fell, and he knew exactly why. If she had described what had happened between them last night as ‘just a kiss’, he would have been fuming. He knew, deep down, that it was so much more than just the meeting of two mouths. ‘If everyone knew that something really had happened, rather than just a bit of flirting?’ Her face showed him that for her, yes—it really would be so bad. ‘To have everyone watching to see what happens to us. To have the story grow, be manipulated. To be asked what’s happened between us when we’ve both decided to move on and leave it behind us? It’d be awful.’
‘So why all the flirtation, Amber?’ The words burst out of him in frustration. ‘It doesn’t make any sense. You don’t want people to know that we’ve kissed, but you want everyone to know that we’re thinking about it? What, are you worried people will think we’ve slept together?’
‘It’s nothing to do with sex.’ Her voice was irritatingly calm, as if she could reason her way through every question about what was happening between them. Make sense of it all when he was struggling. ‘Why do you have to bring everything down to that level?’
‘Bring it down? Based on our kiss last night I think the sex would be pretty damn transcendent.’
Transcendent? Managgia, he was in real trouble. It was bad enough that he was thinking that way, never mind saying it out loud.
‘Transcendent? Mauro, what’s going on? Are you OK?’
He stopped in front of her, blocking the way so that she would have no choice but to look down at him. ‘You know what? No. I thought we were being adults about this. I thought we were being honest. I told you what I want from you, from this. From us. But I don’t think you were honest with me. And you certainly weren’t honest in that interview. If you’re going to use me like that then you could at least have the decency to tell me what’s really going on.’
She dropped down to sit on a bench beside him.
‘Who says there’s anything going on?’
‘I do. There’s something you’re not telling me and I want to know what it is. Why were you acting like that?’ He pulled at her hand and lifted her chin with his thumb so that she couldn’t escape his gaze. So that she couldn’t hide what she was really thinking.
‘It’s what the show wants,’ she said. ‘I was just playing along.’
She was lying; it showed in her eyes.
‘And since when have you cared about what the show wants? You didn’t care when you were talking about killer whales, did you?’
‘Yes, but that was before—’
She stopped herself with tightly pursed lips, stood up, and made to walk away. He still had hold of her hand though, and he kept it tight in his.
‘Before what? Finish your sentence. Please,’ he added, when he saw the stubborn set of her chin.
‘That’s not what I was going to say.’
‘Bull. This thing only works if we’re honest with each other. I thought I’d been pretty clear that I don’t mess women around, and I don’t like to be messed around in return.’ That was the reason for the ache in his chest and the churning of his stomach. He just didn’t like to be made a fool of. He would feel like this with anyone who was being dishonest with him. It didn’t mean that he...that he loved her. It couldn’t. ‘Either we’re honest with each other, or we end this now.’
‘Please, Mauro—’ she reached for his hand ‘—it really doesn’t have to be a big deal.’ She threw her free hand up in a show of nonchalance. He didn’t buy it for a second. Finally, they were getting to the bottom of what was going on. ‘It’s just...after we filmed the first show? My editor told me a few home truths. Apparently my work isn’t going down well with the readership. I need to...lighten up. Show a softer side. If I don’t? Well, the bosses are looking for places to trim headcount, and I’m going to be easy pickings.’
The churning in his stomach stopped, and for a moment it felt empty. Less than empty. As if a gaping hole had left him incomplete. ‘And you’re using me to do it. But it doesn’t make sense. If you want everyone to know you have a softer side, then why all the secrecy? Just tell them we’re having a torrid affair. The tabloids will love it.’
‘Because if we tell people what’s going on, then how are we meant to move on after that, Mauro? When we leave here I just need to be able to move on and forget it. And if the whole world sees what happened, I’m not sure how we do that. Just because I’m showing a softer side doesn’t mean I have to share my whole life. I just need people to think that we could be...whatever. I don’t want people to actually know. It’s nothing to do with real life. It’s just a show.’
‘But don’t I get a say? Don’t I get a voice in this? You weren’t alone last night, you know. They’re not just your memories you’re playing with. You told me that Ian tainted your memories, when you found out what he had been up to. Well, what do you think it does to mine when you deny it ever happened?’
She had dropped back onto the bench beside him and her elbows were resting on her knees. Worry lines marked her face, and suddenly he could see the pressure that she had been under, the genuine fear that she might lose her job.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think. I didn’t realise that it would hurt you. All this, it all happened before that kiss, and we had both said that nothing was going to happen between us, and then last night did happen, and I didn’t have time to come up with another plan. I didn’t realise that it would hurt your feelings if I just went along with what I knew Ayisha wanted.’
He was hurt. Hurt that she had saved smiles and laughter for the cameras and not for him. That she felt closer when she was pretending to like him than when they were really alone together. He wanted to bring some light to her eyes, wanted to make her laugh, make her smile. But even after everything that they had shared last night, she still had to fake it.
‘Let’s just go,’ he said. They needed to forget this, forget the kiss, change the subject. Because if they didn’t it was going to gnaw away at him in a way that he didn’t understand. ‘Let’s sit by the pool and drink Prosecco and watch the stars come out.’
* * *
‘So do you have a thing about stargazing?’ Amber asked as she sat back beside Mauro on the double sun lounger. ‘Or is this just an excuse to get me on my back?’
He looked at her in surprise, but saw from the grin on her face that she was joking.
‘I’ll have you know,’ he said, reaching for one of the glasses of Prosecco on the table beside him and passing it to her as she settled beside him, ‘that I am quite the astronomer. See there—that one...that’s the plough.’
‘That’s Orion,’ Amber said with a laugh, lying back beside him. ‘But nice try.’
‘OK, you rumbled me. I like to just lie here and think. There’s nothing like a clear sky to help you clear your mind.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’ She took a sip of Prosecco and pulled a soft wool throw over them both. ‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked. ‘Is it your ex?’
Where had she got that idea? He’d not thought about her for years, not properly, anyway. Well, not until this week. For some reason, memories of their relationship had been clearer in his mind than they had been for an age. Especially those last months when it had become clear to them both that what they had wasn’t working, and wasn’t going to last.
‘Maybe it was.’ It made as much sense that it was memories of him and Louise that were clouding his mind as anything else.
‘How did it end between you two?’
Trust Amber not to ask if he wanted to talk about it, just dive in there with the hardest question. Well, he couldn’t exactly expect an easy ride from a journalist. Amber wouldn’t be Amber if she weren’t constantly challenging him. He’d berated her earlier for not being honest with him, so he had no choice now but to tell her the truth—she deserved that. Maybe it would help them both, he thought. Show her why he was so sure that he wasn’t meant to be in a long-term relationship, make her see that there was no point trying to think that anything might happen between them. She didn’t have to worry about keeping her distance from him: his lifestyle would make it easy for them.
‘Louise ended it. She said that there wasn’t space in my new life for her, and that it was best we just went our separate ways.’
‘Was she right?’ Amber shifted onto her side, propping her head on her hand as she looked at him intensely.
‘She was. By the time she called it a day, I had been away for five weeks, travelling and training. I hadn’t had time to see her. It made sense to end it.’
‘Five weeks without the chance to meet up? It is quite a long time.’
‘Exactly. She was right.’
‘But other couples go longer,’ she added with a brief shrug of her shoulder.
He remained quiet.
‘Or they find time to fit in an hour together. Or they talk over Skype, or they...’ Her voice trailed off. ‘I’m not...I’m not saying that you weren’t right to end it. But—’
‘But what?’
‘Your colleagues, your other competitors. Do they manage to have relationships?’
‘Some of them.’
‘And don’t you wonder how they make it work?’
Of course he had. But he had always just assumed that they were different. That they had something that he didn’t. And he told Amber so.
‘You think they’re less committed? They don’t train as hard? They don’t take their work as seriously?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Then what could be different?’ she asked, and he had no reply. ‘Perhaps...’ She hesitated. ‘Perhaps the relationship is different. Perhaps they make it work because they can’t imagine life if they didn’t make it work.’
He considered it. When Louise had broken it off with him, could he have fought harder? Could they have done something different?
‘What is she up to now?’ Amber asked. ‘Let me guess, she’s a stay-at-home mum. Husband works in finance. Holiday snaps from the Caribbean and skiing in the Alps shared on Facebook every year.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘If you hadn’t had your accident, do you think you would have stayed together? Would it have been you in those photos?’
He tried to think back to what he and Louise had planned together before his accident; what they had said they wanted. Was that what she was aiming for all along? The cute kids and the holidays and the house in the suburbs? Because that was never going to be him. Whether he had been injured or not, he knew that he couldn’t have been happy in that life. ‘So...what? You’re saying that me and Louise were doomed from the start?’
‘Of course not. I’m saying that perhaps your relationship was perfect for that time in your life. But as you grew older, maybe you would have grown apart anyway. Perhaps your accident sped that up, but, even before then, could you see yourselves growing old together?’
He stayed silent for a few long moments. Was she right? Had he been wrong all this time, and it wasn’t him that had sabotaged the relationship? Perhaps they just hadn’t been meant to be. And where did that leave him with Amber? If his lifestyle wasn’t stopping them, then what was?