‘I said no, and that my schedule was unpredictable and that wouldn’t change. It’s the nature of the beast.’
Rox’s eyes narrow in anger. ‘And he was fine with that?’
I think back to the conversation. I’d only been half-listening as I was in the middle of an urgent quote for a regular client and told Miles that we’d chat properly once it was done, but he still stood there and said his piece. ‘He suggested that I should find a job with regular work hours and a stable income at some point.’ How did I not take offence to that? I’d been so focused on getting the quote right that I hadn’t paid attention to what he said and had put it out of my mind until now.
‘Red flags, red flags everywhere.’
‘Maybe.’ I’m a firm believer in learning a lesson when life gives you lemons, so what is the lesson here? Pay closer attention? Stop and listen to your partner, even if they’re disturbing your workday? Don’t let apathy become the norm for either of you? While I could easily lay the blame all at Miles’s feet, that’s not fair. Something between us clearly broke – but what? What was my part in it?
‘Do you think Miles would have gradually pressured you to find a steadier job?’
I consider the question. ‘There’s absolutely zero chance I’d have caved in to a demand such as that.’ Or would he have worn me down in the end? My job is what brings me joy and allows me the freedom to travel, so I don’t see that ever changing… although I did agree to live in the village for a while. Would that have led to the next thing, and the next, until I become a Stepford Wives’ version of myself?
‘Honestly, Miles is just not good enough for you. He never was and he never will be. You’re a free spirit, a wanderer, and he wanted to clip your wings. Thankfully, he realised that you can’t –won’t– be contained. Butterflies can’t be caged.’
‘Wow, Rox.’
‘Yeah, I’ve got a soft side, don’t you dare tell anyone or I’ll rip those wings off myself.’
‘And she’s back.’ Roan decides at that moment to take one last swipe at the glass. It careens to the floor with one almighty smash. Thank you, Catty Roan!
‘Roan!’
After we say our goodbyes, I call Miles. The phone rings out. So it’s at least switched on now and he’s just choosing to ignore me. My chest tightens. Seriously! I’m done with him. Whatever we had is over.
I type a rage text, then delete and try again:
It would be nice if you had the courtesy to call me. I deserve that much at least.
I freshen up and go to meet the members of the Unlucky in Love Travel Club in the library for another night of shenanigans.
18
21 DECEMBER, HAMBURG, GERMANY
We sit around the big table in the library, everyone claiming their usual spot, as people tend to do. Jasper saunters in and I look everywhere but at him. When he takes his place beside me, it’s sort of hard not to say hello, since he directs his gaze right at me. ‘Hi, Aubrey.’
‘Hi.’ Short, sweet, clipped. I can’t believe I kissed this guy on a whim and am now stuck in the close confines of the train with him. A stupid move in retrospect, despite him setting my soul on fire. That’s just his off-the-charts sex appeal and not something I should seriously consider. But if I did stop for one moment and ponder it, what power does the mere mortal wield to make a closed lip peck so earth shattering? The romance reader in me wants to say it’s a soulmate thing – the practical side of me is more prudent: it’s lust pure and simple, a lust that’s exacerbated by the fact Jasper is drop-dead gorgeous.
He’s wearing a different cologne today – a sweet candyfloss scent. I have to physically clamp my mouth closed so I don’t lick my lips, like some sex-starved fool. Whoever invented perfumery has a lot to answer for.
After chatting to Rox earlier, I consider Jasper anew. Is he a controlling type? What type of man is he? Laid back, easy going – but doesn’t everyone put on a performance when you first meet? Holidays aren’t real life, either. People are generally happier on a trip, more likely to go with the flow.
As the others chat, I feel Jasper’s gaze on me, like a laser beam. The kiss has to be addressed to avoid any more awkwardness between us.
‘So…’
‘So…’
‘You go first,’ I say, hating myself for the heat that pools inside me.
‘I wanted to apologise. For earlier. I’m not sure what came over me.’
Oh God, he’s regretting the kiss. Why didn’t I speak up first? Now he’s not going to believe that I also regret the kiss and he’ll presume whatever I say is a knee-jerk reaction to his rejection of me, because that’s essentially what he’s doing, isn’t it?
I will myself to smile. Do I go on the defence too? I run with the truth; it’s less messy and Jasper can judge all he likes. ‘I’m so glad you said that! I’m not sure what was in that mulled wine’ – I let out a choked laugh – ‘but I’m never hasty like that, and I’m sure you can agree it’s not the right time. It was a moment of madness. Let’s forget it ever happened.’
Jasper’s eyes cloud. ‘Oh. I mean… yeah, sure. Of course. I figured it wasn’t the right time, is all, and I wanted to apologise if I acted hastily. But I…’ His words peter off as confusion slides across his features. Why? Did he expect me to be upset at his rejection? He’s probably used to breaking hearts left, right and centre. Well, not this heart. Clearly it’s already under maintenance.
