About a Girl (39 page)

‘At least you feel something other than the heavy burden of other people’s expectations,’ he said, deftly dodging my hand as I swung out to punch him in the arm. ‘See? I’m quick.’

‘And too bloody clever for your own good,’ I said, soothing my bruised ego with another well-earned sip of champagne. No matter how hungry I was, if I was going to get through another battle of wits with knobhead, I was going to need a cocktail or two.

‘You really don’t see yourself, do you?’ Nick asked. ‘You really do think you’re just this sad workhorse, slogging away.’

I coughed, choking on too much dry bread. Note to self ? never be in too much of a rush to eat to forget butter. ‘Thank you for such a beautiful image.’

‘I’m serious,’ Nick said seriously, wearing his serious face. ‘I’m really good at reading people. It’s kind of why I ended up in the job I’m in, but I cannot get a proper read on you. You’re definitely not the girl I thought I was meeting, and you’re really not the martyr you think you are. So who are you?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I replied, wishing there was a toilet I could excuse myself to. Not because I needed to go, but because the conversation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. And at some point I was going to need to go.

‘I’m talking about you hiding who you are under this “poor me’” act,’ he went on. ‘You put all your focus on what other people think, on work, on that stupid man in London who doesn’t know how fucking lucky he is, but when you let all of that go, you’re amazing.’

‘I’m amazing?’ I met his eyes, expecting to see a light of laughter, but there was nothing. Just painfully bare honesty. I felt myself blush and shifted in my seat. ‘Nick, you don’t know me.’

‘Yeah, I do,’ he argued. ‘The look on your face today when you were taking the pictures, when Al was talking about his wife. When you forget to try, you’re so beautiful. It’s the same when you’re with me. I love the look on your face when you know you can’t win a fight.’

‘I never know I can’t win a fight,’ I rallied, knocking back almost an entire flute of champagne. Hic. ‘And really, you don’t need to say all this just to get in my pants. I think we’re a bit past that.’

‘That’s the other thing,’ he laughed. ‘As soon as things get even the tiniest bit real or honest, you make a joke or you say something bitchy. It’s all a defence, Vanessa. I’ve been interviewing people for long enough to know when they’re trying to keep me out.’

I looked up at the sky and watched as pale pink and peach streaks washed over the light blue twilight. ‘And why would I be trying to keep you out?’ I wondered aloud.

‘I’m trying really hard to do something nice.’ I felt Nick’s hand cover mine on the table. Out of politeness, I let go of the piece of bread I was holding and curled my fingers around his. ‘I know I was a total dick. I’ve been a massive dick to everyone for a really long time, and I basically forgot how to be anything else.’

‘So why stop now?’ I asked, still not quite meeting his eyes.

‘Damned if I know,’ he replied, a hint of a laugh in his voice that didn’t really ring true. ‘Been trying to work that out myself. Thought of a thousand reasons: being back on Oahu, just had my birthday, haven’t had a shag in ages.’

He sat quietly for a moment, waiting for me to say something, but I had nothing. With one hand I cradled my glass in my lap, and with the other I squeezed his warm fingers. It was meant to be reassuring. I hoped that it was.

‘I’ve got a horrible feeling it’s actually because I really like you,’ he whispered.

‘Because I’m loyal, dedicated and hard-working?’ I asked.

‘Because you’re passionate and fierce and caring and creative and so funny and so beautiful and totally naïve, and you’ve got so much hair, and you’re completely fucking oblivious to all of the above,’ Nick replied, leaning closer towards me. ‘Apart from the hair. And because you took me on and won.’

I’d won?

‘And because you’re not afraid to tell me the truth.’

He had to go and spoil everything.

I wanted to melt, I wanted to kiss him hard and ask him to say things like that to me every single day, but I couldn’t. Because the day after tomorrow, the girl he was talking about wouldn’t exist any more. And the girl that would take her place didn’t know how to tell him the truth. Instead I let go of his hand and let my head fall backwards, as far as it would go, covering my eyes with my hands. I needed a moment, just a moment, to work this out.

I should just tell him. I should just laugh and take his hand and say ‘funny story …’ It wasn’t that big a deal, was it? It was only a name. I remembered something from my GCSE English: A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Except things hadn’t worked out so well in that instance. Oh bugger.

‘Vanessa?’

I’d tell him in the morning.

‘I haven’t really opened up for a while,’ Nick said, gripping my wrist tightly to get my attention. I uncovered my eyes and looked at him. His jaw was set and the sparkle in his eyes was burning. It was all too much to bear. ‘So you can understand why this is a bit uncomfortable for me right now. Should I not have said that?’

‘I just don’t know what to say,’ I whispered, eyes wide and prickly. ‘I don’t know what to say to you.’

‘Then I’ll just stick with my earlier comment,’ he replied, leaning in to press his lips to mine. ‘In the interests of this evening going well, I’m just going to ignore you.’

I woke up in Nick’s bed, in Nick’s arms. The rest of the evening had passed perfectly, just as Nick had planned. I quietly relived the kissing, inappropriate touching, some champagne-fuelled skinny-dipping and fifteen minutes of drunkenly blowing out tealights on our way back to our car and driver, me wearing Nick’s white shirt, him carrying my precious dress. If he was hurt by my less than positive reaction to his confession of like, he did a fantastic job of hiding it. I looked down to see I was still wearing his shirt, with almost every button done up wrong. The rest of my clothes were scattered across the room, the Valentino was draped across the chair opposite the bed, giving me a sly wink. I felt as though I’d done her proud.

‘Go back to sleep,’ Nick murmured as I stirred again. His body was hot and solid, curled against mine, and I willingly pushed back against it, feeling the tension in his muscles. It made me smile. His knees moved up, pulling me in towards him, and he coiled his legs around mine, our hands and arms already entwined.

‘I should go back to mine and pack,’ I sighed in response. ‘We fly out this afternoon. I haven’t sent the pictures to Steph yet, and Paige still hasn’t seen them. There’s too much to do to stay in bed.’

‘But you’re really only agreeable in bed,’ Nick replied. ‘As soon as you get out, you start opening your mouth, and that’s when you get annoying.’

‘I know,’ I agreed. ‘But there’s really not very much I can do about that.’

‘You could come back to New York with me,’ he suggested in a voice barely louder than a whisper, speaking right in my ear. ‘We could stay in bed for days.’

I let him kiss my ear, my neck, my shoulder, before I replied. Was that throwaway pillow talk or a genuine offer? Not that I could just up and run off to New York, could I. Could I? I’d already upped and run off to Hawaii. What was one more week? And maybe when we got there, I could explain everything and he would understand. Probably. I bet New York was full of pathological liars. I bet everything sounded more charming in the shadow of the Empire State building. I’d be like a modern-day Meg Ryan. Without the plastic surgery. Oh, how we’d laugh …

‘You want me to come to New York?’ I said with a squeak as one of his hands let go of mine and started to work its way down my thigh. ‘With you? Today?’

‘Why not?’ he replied, his voice thick with sleep and desire. ‘You keep saying you have nothing to go home for.’

‘This is true.’ I closed my eyes and let a very speedy procession of images flash through my mind before giving in to Nick’s dexterous fingers. ‘But I shouldn’t.’

‘Because?’

I smiled and let out a tiny yelp.

‘I don’t really know,’ I said, rolling over to face him. ‘Why don’t you give me a couple more reasons why I should.’

Half an hour and two very good reasons later, I lay in bed listening to Nick shower, making no moves to head back to my own bathroom. I really should, I told myself ? there was too much to do. But rolling around on the silky soft sheets with my eyes closed was too tempting. As soon as I opened up my suitcase, I had to admit that this week was over, and as soon as I admitted this week was over, I had to stop having fun and start making some very difficult decisions. Probably. Unless I went away with Nick.

Giving myself one more minute to wrap myself up in Nick’s sheets, I breathed in, storing away each and every memory as safely as I could. The smell of the ocean, of Nick, that lay on top of crisply laundered bedlinen. I had replayed the moment he had kissed me by the waterfall so many times that it was burned into my brain. It was already starting to feel like something I’d seen in a movie rather than something that had happened to me. The sound of the shower running in the bathroom echoed the rush of the waterfall, and, making myself a nest of pillows, I hid my face from the morning sun. Just one more minute. Just one more minute here, and then …

And then my phone started to ring.

And that’s when things really started to go wrong.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

‘Paige, wait,’ I wailed, following her out of Nick’s cottage, trying to pull his white shirt over my underwear before we hit civilization. None of the gardeners or housekeepers wanted to see me in my pants. Literally, none of them. Kekipi had hired half the gay population of Oahu. ‘Can I try to explain, please?’

‘Um, no,’ she shouted without looking back. ‘You can fuck off and die.’

‘Maybe you can explain to me?’ Nick grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I glanced down reluctantly and breathed an unlikely sigh of relief that he had found his boxers before leaving the bedroom. ‘What is going on, Vanesssa?’

‘Her name’s Tess,’ Paige reminded him. ‘Although she might as well be Vanessa, given what a filthy, lying skank she is.’

Oh, that was a low blow. Not that I didn’t have it coming.

‘I can’t believe you would do this. Which just goes to show how stupid I am.’ Paige looked furious. ‘You did a really good job of pretending to be my friend. Well done.’

Oh God, I was a horrible person.

‘I am your friend,’ I protested. ‘Honestly, this is …’

‘Exactly what it looks like?’ she countered. ‘Friend?’

‘Paige, wait.’ I shook off Nick’s hand and gave him a desperate look as she ran off. ‘I can explain to you in a minute ? just let me go and explain to her and then I’ll come back.’

‘You don’t think I deserve an explanation first?’ He looked furious. Confused and furious. ‘Because Paige seems to know your actual name, which is one step ahead of me.’

‘Oh God.’ I pressed my hands against my face and made a frustrated mewing noise. What should I do? What was I supposed to do? ‘OK, my name isn’t Vanessa; it’s Tess. Vanessa is my flatmate. She’s a massive cow and I sort of borrowed her camera and her job and, well, her name to come out here because I got the sack, I got fucked over by Charlie and I may or may not have had a very small mental breakdown. That’s the short version. Can I come back and give you the long version in five minutes?’

‘Go and talk to Paige,’ he said in a strained voice. ‘Tess.’

Well. If I’d known it was going to be that easy to shut him up, I could have told him the truth a week earlier. His fury changed to shock and his shock, if I was being brutally honest, looked an awful lot like a confused goldfish. Not his most attractive expression. Still hot, though.

‘I was going to tell you,’ I replied weakly. ‘I wanted to tell you.’

‘Go and talk to Paige,’ he repeated. ‘Go.’

Thinking of the right thing to say was impossible, so I simply nodded and ran up the steps, following Paige towards the main house.

‘Paige, wait,’ I bellowed, struggling to run and shout at the same time. I really was too out of shape for this much drama. ‘Just one minute.’

But it was pointless. She was on a mission and I had a horrible feeling that nothing good was going to come out of it. For me, anyway. When I finally heaved myself over the top step, I saw Paige animatedly lecturing Al and Artie, who were sitting together at the huge table on the veranda while Kekipi looked on, a delighted look on his face. It was quite the sight, to see the two Bennett men together. Resuming his rightful role as Bertie had done nothing to alter Al’s appearance. Even back at the head of the table, he was still ninety-five percent beard and still wearing a faded old T-shirt and a pair of knee-length shorts, and Artie, sitting to his left, was resplendent in a full three-piece suit at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning. In front of the glamorous mansion, in the broad sunshine, it was difficult to say who looked more out of place.

‘And so, yes, I’m so sorry, Mr Bennett …’ I was finally close enough to hear Paige as she got to the end of her story, hands pressed against her chest, painfully earnest look on her face. ‘And Mr Bennett. It’s all just been such a terrible mix-up. Obviously we’ll be dealing with Miss Brookes when we return to England, but, really, I just wanted to reassure you both that
Gloss
had absolutely no idea about any of this and we will do whatever it takes to make things right.’

‘Well, well, well.’ Al stood up and gave me the biggest, sunniest grin I had ever seen. ‘You weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t who we thought you were.’

I stood still at the top of the stairs, very, very aware that I was only wearing my knickers and a badly buttoned-up man’s shirt with last night’s make-up smeared all over my face. Kekipi gave me an elaborate wink, a silent clap, and then motioned for me to wipe the mascara smears away from under my eyes.

‘I don’t know what to say.’ I took a step forward and then froze, crossing my arms in front of me, feet rooted to the spot. Paige turned an icy glare my way and sat down at the table opposte Artie. He mostly looked confused. ‘I’m really sorry.’