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His eyes bulged. ‘You wouldn’t.’
Hannah tilted her head and held his gaze, wondering how she’d stood in front of a fire-and-brimstone pastor and promised to love, honour and obey this man for ever. ‘Believe me, I definitely would.’
‘She’ll lose her mind,’ he said desperately. ‘Nobody gets divorced in our family.’
‘Well, think of yourself as a trailblazer. And don’t lie to her about what you’ve done; you’ll only make it worse when she finds out.’
‘I can’t tell her,’ he croaked, clearly on the verge of tears. ‘She’ll be devastated.’
Hannah looked away, determined not to feel sorry for him. ‘Maybe you should have thought about that before you had an affair with your assistant.’
Graham covered his face with his huge hands and started to sob, the last remaining defence of the cornered and desperate. ‘I’m so sorry, Hannah.’ He rubbed his eyes like a little boy. ‘Please don’t do this.’
Hannah walked towards him, then gently rested her hand on his arm, suddenly aware that this was probably the last time she would ever touch him. ‘Come on. Be honest with yourself, and with me. This marriage isn’t working, and it hasn’t been for a long time. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life like this?’
Graham looked up, his eyes filled with tears and confusion. He gave Hannah a long, searching look, and it felt like the most powerful moment of mutual understanding they’d shared in years. He closed his eyes briefly as he shook his head, then opened his arms to invite Hannah in for a hug. She paused for a second, then moved into them. She could give him this one final moment, but then they were both on their own.
CHAPTER TWO
‘This isn’t working.’ Rob let go of the suitcase lid, prompting it to spring open like a jack-in-the-box. The stack of shorts and polo shirts inside slumped sideways and fell onto the bed, ruining all his careful folding.
‘You’re trying to squash too much stuff in,’ said Nina with an eye roll, scrambling onto the pillow so she could shove the T-shirts back in, push the lid down and hold it in place with her pert backside. ‘Why don’t you just take another bag?’
‘Because it’s an extra seventy quid,’ Rob said grumpily.
‘You could take me,’ she added sweetly, bouncing up and down on the lid while Rob wrestled with the zip. She opened her legs to spread the weight and jiggled her boobs in his face, and he momentarily wondered if she was doing it on purpose. ‘Then I could bring some of your stuff in my bag. I’d only need a bikini. And my hair straighteners.’
‘Not great timing for that suggestion,’ laughed Rob. ‘My plane leaves in three and a half hours.’
Nina pouted prettily, still sitting on the hard shell of Rob’s suitcase, her knees now together with her feet splayed like she was about to kick into a Charleston swivel.
‘I could come over to Spain when I’m done with uni in May, though. Maybe you could teach me to play tennis.’
Rob smiled, realising this was a joke. Nina hated tennis; in fact, she hated anything that made her sweaty in public. In private was a whole other matter, however. ‘I don’t think that would work,’ he said.
‘I just can’t believe you’re not going to miss me.’ She was trying to play it cool, but Rob could hear the neediness in her voice.
‘Of course I’m going to miss you. But we always knew this was coming.’
‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘But I thought you might change your mind. You know, because of me. Well, us.’
Rob looked at her carefully, trying to gauge if she was still joking. Her lip gave a tell-tale wobble and he realised she was about to cry.Oh, shit.
‘Nina, I . . .’ He was suddenly aware that he was way out of his depth. They’d been casually dating for less than two months; a slippery Valentine’s Day encounter on some ice outside Bath Abbey that had moved from a coffee to an exchange of numbers, then drinks, then mini golf, then a great deal of intense and mutually satisfying sex, all in the space of forty-eight hours. He’d thought they were on the same page – just a fling, no pressure, no commitment, feel free to see other people. Apparently not.
‘It’s fine,’ she said, clambering off the suitcase and pulling the cuffs of her jumper down over her fists. It was a reminder of how young she was; only twenty-one, inclined to retreat to childhood in moments of stress. Losing herself inside her clothes, curling her hair round her finger, chewing the knuckle of her thumb until it bled.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Rob gently, looking her firmly in the eye. ‘I’ve had a great time, but I thought you were cool with this.’
Nina gazed up at him with her big green eyes, pressing her fists together under her chin like she was auditioning for the part of adorable, picture-perfect girlfriend. ‘I was,’ she said breathily. ‘But now you’re actually going I’ve realised that I really love you.’
Oh Jesus, thought Rob, realising that this whole situation was rapidly spiralling out of his control. He needed to be kind, obviously, but also very clear on where they stood. ‘I can’t . . .’ he said. ‘That isn’t what we talked about.’
‘I know.’ Nina reached out to take his big hand in her tiny one. ‘I just need you to know how I feel, before you leave.’
Rob nodded slowly, unable to shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. He reminded himself that Nina was studying for a BA in Acting at university and absolutely LIVED for this kind ofLove Islanddrama. He suspected that this wasn’t an impromptu declaration; this was a scene she’d played out in her own head over many hours, an opportunity for Nina Taylor to star in her own Richard Curtis romcom. A Valentine’s Day meet-cute on an icy pavement, a whirlwind romance, tell the boy you love him just as he’s about to get on the plane, passionate kiss, camera zooms out as it takes off into the sunset without him. The End.
‘I’m really sorry,’ he said helplessly. ‘The last couple of months have been really fun, but I’m going to Spain.’
