‘It will blow over, Kat and the BeachLuxe issue is temporary. People still need holidays.’
‘Part of me agrees but who can say if or when? What do you think about a family dance show?’
Jay rolls onto his side. ‘We could modify what we have and wear more clothes, I guess. How much less money are we talking?’
‘Without ticket sales, we’d be reliant on what the hotel pays to guest acts. My best guess would be a few hundred euros per performance.’
Jay nods. ‘That’s not so bad.’
‘Per show, not per person.’
‘Oh.’ I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows this information. ‘It’s still better than nothing. Listen, when we get back to Tenerife, we’ll go heavy on our social media promo for the Hunks, and work on a family version of our show just in case.’
‘I do admire your optimism. I just hope the others share it.’
Chapter 24
I don’t think anyone can ever feel as good as they do the day after spending a whole twenty-four hours in bed. Especially when there’s a gorgeous, naked man in said bed. Jay is still sleeping next to me and, for today at least, I’ve pushed all my business worries to one side. His smooth, bare chest rises and falls with each tranquil breath. His long dark eyelashes fan out across the tops of his cheeks and his full lips pout slightly as gentle puffs of air come out. I smile at the sight of him, and at how special it feels for someone to trust you enough that they can be so vulnerable like that. His arm is above his head so his tattoo is in full view. I trace my finger over it and something pangs inside me. The words show a regret that runs so deep he needed to permanently remind himself to look forwards. He flinches beneath my touch.
‘Morning, beautiful.’ His voice is thick with sleep.
‘Morning, sleepyhead.’ I kiss him on the cheek. His skin is warm to the touch.
‘Since we’re flying back to Tenerife today, we are actually going to have to leave the apartment. Could be hard.’ He grins, pulling me in for a kiss.
‘Actually,’ I say softly, ‘I’d like to chat about something.’
‘Sounds serious.’ He props himself up on his elbow and gives me his attention.
‘I was thinking. We never really finished speaking about what happened, in your past.’
He groans and pulls the pillow over his head.
‘It’s important, Jay; it’s obvious you loved your family a lot. I know breaking the law wasn’t the best way of going about helping but you saw how desperate they were and tried to fix it.’
‘Where are you going with this?’
I take a deep breath for courage. ‘I wondered if you’d thought about getting in touch more recently.’
‘Kat.’ It’s a warning. I know this is a painful wound to open but it won’t heal until he has some closure.
‘Listen, when your mum said she didn’t want to see you again, things were raw and painful. She was emotional. You already felt bad for humiliating your family, and then with your dad passing away, you had to deal with the guilt of that too so you accepted what she said.’ I stroke his arm. He’s rolled onto his back and is staring at the ceiling. ‘Then you left town. You don’t know if she’s ready to forgive you. You’ve made an honest living for ten years now – that has to count for something.’
‘I think staying away was the last good thing I could do for her.’
‘I know this has nothing to do with me, but would it hurt to get in touch? If you can that is? I just think that you need to give your mum and brother the chance to forgive you. Time may have healed them now and you could be the final piece of their jigsaw.’
He continues to stare at the ceiling. I’ve said what I had to say and now it’s up to him to decide what he wants to do. I can’t force him.
‘You have no idea what my family are like. They’re stubborn and proud.’
‘Fifteen years is a long time to heal, Jay. Even for someone stubborn. Look at me. I’ve changed my perspective on things and look at how well it’s worked out.’ I kiss his chest. ‘But hey, it’s your decision, just promise me you’ll think about it.’
He wraps his arms around me and nuzzles his head into my shoulder. ‘I suppose I can think it over.’
‘Okay, good. Now I suppose we’d better get up.’
‘Do we have to?’ he asks. I nod and Jay grabs me and rolls me onto my back.
‘Well, not straight away.’ I say.
He starts to kiss my neck. ‘Good. I’d quite like to do more of what we’ve been doing for the past twenty-four hours.’
I feel him harden against me.
‘As much as I want to do this, and I do really want to do this, I’m starving. If I don’t eat, I’ll get hangry.’
Jay raises his eyebrows.
‘Hungry and angry, hangry.’
‘I know what it means, I just can’t imagine you angry.’
‘Carry on starving me and you’ll see.’
‘Relax. Yesterday while you were on your second round of throwing up the entire after-party, I went to get supplies, but then you fell asleep.’
‘You’re a keeper.’ As soon as the words come out I want to claw them back. It’s too late. He’s heard and he’s got a playful look on his face.
‘A keeper, hey?’
Heat flushes my face. ‘It’s just a phrase.’
‘Don’t backtrack now – you said you wanted to keep me.’
‘What supplies did you get?’
‘Eggs, croissants, jam.’
‘English bacon?’
‘No, sorry. I just went to the little shop down the road.’
‘Then I can quite plausibly retract my statement. You’re not a keeper.’
He grins and goes to the little kitchenette where he busies himself with butter and jam. I roll over, burying myself in the sheets. I could quite easily go back to sleep.
After breakfast, Jay heads to the gym and I head to the pool for an hour of R&R. We’re rehearsing this afternoon and I need to feel as normal as possible, but it’s hard when all I can think about is Jay.
I’d sworn off men. I moved here after a horrendous break-up and years of manipulation and emotional abuse. I came here for a fresh start and I’ve done so well. I became strong, independent and successful. I’ve been happy since arriving here. A dark feeling swamps me and I can’t help but think letting Jay in could change everything. This could be a huge mistake.
***
I stuff the last of the white clothes into the washing machine. They’re tightly packed but it seems over the top to split the load. Iain’s gym bag is on the floor in the utility room. He came home in his sports gear last night, which must mean the white work shirt he wore yesterday is in there. He hates me going through his stuff – he says he likes it all to be packed a certain way – but I can’t stand the thought of one white shirt sitting in the bottom of my currently empty washing basket. I pull the zip. He’ll get over it.
I check it over for stains. It’s gross, I know, but sometimes the armpits are stained yellow. It’s understandable; his job is stressful. I squirt them with my oxy-action spray but I notice more marks: an orange tinge on the shoulder. I rub it with my finger but it’s ground in. There are more marks – mauve smears, black speckles. Make-up. Without thinking, I sniff the shirt. There’s the stale aroma of sweat after a day in the office, the woody aftershave he always wears, but there’s something else, something sweet and floral. Jasmine.
I hear footsteps upstairs and jump, before quickly stuffing the shirt in the washer and slamming the door shut. I fumble with the dial and it takes me three attempts to get the setting right.
‘You’re up early.’
I jump again.
‘Up to no good?’ He raises his eyebrow and looks amused. I hit the start button on the load.
‘No.’ I sound defensive. ‘I was just putting the washing in.’
He glances at his gym bag. It’s open, its smelly gym paraphernalia spewing out like a disembowelled carcass
. ‘Please tell me a cat got in or something, and you haven’t turned into one of those women who rifles through their husband’s gear.’ The word ‘those’ is loaded.
‘I …’ I falter. ‘I knew there was a shirt in there and just took it out to wash. I wasn’t rifling.’
He steps closer to me, his chest slightly grazing mine, and stands tall. I look at my shoes.
‘I’m sorry, I know you like everything just right. I’ll repack it for you.’ I bend down and grab a shampoo bottle that’s fallen out when something tightens around my wrist. ‘Iain?’
He crouches down so that he’s eye level with me. ‘I said, don’t mess with my stuff.’ His voice is cool, calm and barely audible, but the malice in his eyes is unmistakable.
‘I’m sorry.’ I drop the bottle, get to my feet and scurry away.
When I’m in the bathroom with the door locked, I slump against the wall. Almost as soon as I do, there’s a hammering on the door.
‘Katelyn, let me in.’ Iain’s voice is laced with amusement.
I swallow. ‘In a minute.’
‘Just open the door. I can hear your breathing so I know you’re right next to it – you’re not on the loo.’
Slowly, I slide the lock. Iain doesn’t wait a second before crossing the threshold. He cups my face in his hands. ‘Why did you run off?’ A V forms between his eyebrows.
‘I knew I’d upset you.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ He traces my jaw with his thumb. ‘I just don’t like you going through my stuff. You know I like things packed a certain way.’
I study his face. His features are no longer tight and strained. His muscles are relaxed and expression affable. Now that he’s calmed down, the question I want to ask him is burning on my lips. I swallow so hard it hurts my throat.
‘Iain, can I ask you something?’
‘Of course, sweetheart, anything.’ He smiles. Tight and fake. This is a bad idea.
‘Your work shirt. It had make-up on it.’
He cocks his head to the side. He wants to know where I’m going with this – surely he doesn’t need me to spell it out. It takes everything I have to force the next sentence out.
‘Have you been having an affair?’
I’m braced for a torrent of abuse. A rant, or a stream of names. Anything, but not what follows.
He laughs. Cold, hard laughter.
Then he shakes his head. ‘You really are a fucking nut job.’
***
The next day, I arrive at Andrea’s purposely early. I hear but can’t see her unpacking bottles behind the bar.
‘You look good. Who is he and why the change of heart?’ she asks, popping up from behind the bar. I put my hand to my cheek to try and sense what she means but all I feel is the heat that’s no doubt colouring my face a nice shade of pink.
It’s not until she laughs that I realise she’s teasing me. I compose myself enough to give her a look of mock warning.
‘Drink?’ She waves an empty sangria jug at me. I can’t believe I’m even contemplating this, but there’s something about Andrea that makes me fancy a drink and a girlie natter.
I check my watch. ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere. Make it a small one with lots of orange juice though please.’
As Andrea throws chopped fruit into the jug and adds whatever else is in her famous sangria, I slide onto a barstool.
‘The show was great the other night.’ She passes me a glass of fruity punch. ‘I honestly think you guys are serious contenders.’
‘I hope so,’ I say, taking a sip.
‘But that isn’t what’s worrying you, is it?’
I draw a breath. It’s hard to arrange the jumble of words into a shape that will fit through my lips.
‘Come on, Kat, this is a safe space.’
‘I’ve been sort of dating Jay.’
She doesn’t react, which I’m thankful for, but there’s an unmistakable glint in her eye. It’s exactly the kind of salacious titbit she loves.
‘You mean that god-like hunk of a man who follows you around like a lost puppy?’
I furrow my brow; to some extent that could describe any of the dancers. ‘Not sure.’
‘The one with the sexy smile and the muscles. The older one, the newest one.’
‘The newest one,’ I confirm.
‘Jeez.’ She fans her face dramatically. ‘Congratulations.’
‘No,’ I hiss. ‘This is bad.’
‘How so? From where I sit on rehearsal days, it’s very good.’ She winks.
‘You know how I had a bad marriage before?’
Andrea’s expression darkens. I’ve never told her exactly what happened in my marriage; she’s never asked, and I respect her for that. She understands it wasn’t good, and that was all she needed to know and all I wanted to tell her when we met. Years have passed since and we’ve never needed to expand. ‘Look forwards not backwards,’ she’s always said. Andrea too had a bad marriage before she met Javier so I know she understands where I’m coming from. I also know she won’t press me to talk if I’m not willing, but I want her to understand how I’m feeling.
‘I can’t help thinking that what happened back then will happen again.’
Her jaw clenches briefly before relaxing. ‘Has Jay given you a reason to think this?’
‘No,’ I say quickly before she orders a Mafia hit or something.
‘Then what are you worrying about?’
‘Jay is a good-looking bloke.’
Andrea makes a noise of agreement.
‘He literally has women throwing themselves at him each night. He could have any woman and he’s chosen me? I can’t comprehend that.’
‘You’re so much more than an attractive woman, Kat. You’re a woman with gumption and ambition. What is so hard to understand?’
‘I suppose I just think the temptation will be too hard to ignore once the excitement of us wears off.’
‘I hardly know him, but from what you’ve told me, Jay doesn’t seem to care about all that attention. You said he doesn’t even go out partying with the rest of the dancers.’ Andrea looks confused, and I can’t blame her. It’s hard to explain. It’s hard to explain to anyone what Iain was like and how subtle changes in someone’s personality over time can go unnoticed, or be dismissed as something like tiredness and stress, until the day you wake up and realise you’re too far in. I’ve got to use my head and not my heart if I’m going to avoid getting hurt again.
‘It’s complicated. He doesn’t, but he had reasons for that. Now he has dared to be with a woman, maybe he’s taken a step past that. He could have opened the floodgates, so to speak.’
Andrea looks at me like she thinks I belong in a straitjacket.
In essence, I’m scared. I’m scared of being taken for a ride and made a fool of. I’m scared of undoing all the work I’ve put into myself over the past eight years. I’m scared of falling for someone who doesn’t yet realise how amazing they are.
‘I just don’t want to get in too deep and wake up one day with a partner who hates me and cheats on me every opportunity he gets.’
‘Either way, you end up alone. So why not have some fun with Jay and deal with any issues as they arise? That’s if you want a man, of course.’
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. In some ways, I’m glad Andrea knows very little about my past because it doesn’t influence her thoughts. Her advice is based on the now, which is exactly what I should be basing my decision on.
‘Day-drinking?’ Pauw slaps me on the back, causing a dribble of sangria to run down my chin. ‘You lush!’
‘You know what this one is like,’ I say, cocking my head in Andrea’s direction.
He gestures in agreement. ‘Anyway, I’ve been thinking about a slightly different routine for the semi-final and wanted to run it by you. The judges and crowd have seen our act twice now, and I know Marcus added the thong and that creepy licky-lip thing that everyone seemed to love but I thought we could mix things up a b
it more.’
‘Okay, what do you have in mind?’
‘I know everyone loves the backflips, but I’ve got a few other tricks up my sleeve.’
‘Care to show me?’
‘Okay, but I’m rusty, so bear with me.’
He walks over to the dance floor and pulls off his T-shirt, revealing his chiselled physique. Pauw is slightly smaller than the other guys but his boyish good looks are enough to secure him an army of fans. He puts on Avicii’s ‘Wake Me Up’ and starts to stretch his muscles. It’s not our usual song choice but it certainly has a lively vibe about it. I like it. When the chorus kicks in, he bounces into the air in a somersault. When his feet hit the ground he immediately propels himself into a double aerial flip. I sometimes forget Pauw is an acrobat by trade. Bringing this into the act could give us an edge.
He turns off the music and walks towards me, raking his hands through his hair. ‘It’s been a while.’ He grins.
‘Hey, you’ve still got it.’ I smile, impressed.
‘Can you see it fitting in?’
The final is still only a fifteen-minute slot, but I’m thinking it could start the breakdancing segment. With the spotlight of sin currently upon us, I don’t think a more talent-driven act would do us any harm and I think after what Paul told me about his disastrous talent competition, he really needs this input to be a success. I think it will be.
‘Definitely. Let’s run it by the others and see what they think.’
As if on cue, the other guys trickle in, looking well rested after a day off. They start warming up, and when the shirts come off, the masculine smells of shower gel, deodorant and aftershave fill the bar. Andrea grabs a seat next to me.
‘It always smells like a boys’ locker room when they come in here.’
I quite like it.
Pauw wants to show the guys his tweaked version of the breakdancing set, so they start with that. He swaps places with Ant to be in the centre, does the stunts and goes back to his original position and Ant struts forward. It’s a small change but I like it, and Ant is good at strutting. When they’re back in their normal positions, the usual routine kicks in. Jay steps forward and licks his thumb, then runs it from his breastbone to the waistband of his jeans. I drink in the triangle of his body and when I raise my eyes, he’s looking directly at me. Muscles tighten somewhere deep in my abdomen. Then he throws himself into a backflip and my insides erupt.
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