She shivered, and now she could see John walking toward her with a blanket from one of the boats, but before he could get to her, she felt herself being picked up again. Rob had swept in and lifted her up and was carrying her away toward the bridge.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Your body temperature is dropping. You need to get warm,” he said, striding toward the steps.
“I’m fine, it’s fine. I fell in the river. It’s not that cold,” but as she said it, her body let out a huge shiver.
“It’s best to get out of wet clothes. The water isn’t clean—”
“Please put me down, I can walk,” she said, suddenly irritated. Rob did as she asked, but they were now on the bridge, there was no point turning around. She hurried up the steps, striding off down the High Street, but Rob soon caught up with her.
“You’re annoyed,” he observed.
“I just don’t like to be picked up without being asked first,” she said.
“Okay, I won’t do it again,” he said, as though he was making a mental note, recording her preferences for future reference. She knew he was only trying to help; she didn’t know why she was so annoyed. The physical reaction she’d had to John in the river had unnerved her. It felt like being swept out into deep water, out of your depth, not sure if you’ll be able to swim back to solid ground. But by the time they got back to Lincoln, she had softened.
“Sorry, I overreacted,” she said. “I was just embarrassed, being picked up in front of everyone.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Rob said, but she shook her head. Was it healthy to be in a relationship—even one likethis—where you had no accountability, where you never admitted to being wrong?
“I do,” she said. “If I think I’m wrong, I’ll apologize.”
“Okay,” he said with a smile. Looking up at him now, into the eyes she’d found so beautiful and enchanting, all she could see was that they could only convey one emotion at a time. “Shall I run you a bath?” he offered.
“I can do it,” she said, walking into the bathroom and turning on the tap with a hard yank.
“Chloe,” he said, following her. She turned around and he opened his arms wide. She walked in and let him fold her into a hug as the sound of water gurgled from the tap.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, hiding her face in his chest. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Let’s reset, have a bath, recalibrate your priorities,” he said, kissing her head. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
“My priorities?” she asked.
He blinked, waiting to see if she really wanted to hear them. Deducing that she did, he said, “Yes, this weekend, your priorities are your health and well-being, gaining the respect of your peers, repairing a broken bond with Sean, and gaining favor with your boss by delivering the script.”
“What else do I want?” she asked, curious to hear how Rob saw her. He looked hesitant. “It’s okay, you can tell me.” She sat on the side of the bath.
“You want to be seen as a success,” he told her. “You think the way to achieve this is by improving your physical fitness, acquiring a slimmer physique, gaining a higher-status job with greater financial compensation, and having a boyfriend whom other women covet. You want to write, to produce work you are proud of, so you can validate your life choices.”
She stood, looking at him, stunned. This was how he saw her? Was this who she was?
“You make me sound awful,” she said.
“Sorry,” he said, looking remorseful. “That’s not how I see you. It is how you see yourself.” He reached out to rub her arm.
“Well, you’re wrong, I don’t want success for success’s sake. I want to contribute something to the world, to tell stories worth telling.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“You’re taking my word for it?”
“Yes,” he said calmly, and now his placid demeanor started to rankle.
