Chasing Daisy

anything, just continue to scrub at the plates.
    ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ he says suddenly. ‘I’ve got a dish-washer.’
    ‘Yes, I know, but I didn’t think we should leave any evidence of us being here together. You know, in case anyone comes over after the race . . .’
    He joins me at the sink and picks up a tea towel, drying the plates as I hand them to him.
    When the surfaces have been wiped down and everything put away, I follow him out of the kitchen. He reaches back to switch off the lights and then leads the way up the stairs.
    ‘First floor you’ve seen . . .’ Massive living room area. ‘Second floor is all guest bedrooms.’ He gives me a quick tour around the three of them. Two have en-suites and there’s a third large bathroom.
    ‘Which one should I sleep in?’ I ask.
    ‘Take your pick.’ He continues up the stairs.
    ‘And this is where I am.’ He pushes open the door to the master suite. It’s enormous, running from the front to the back of the house with a huge bathroom set off to the right. His giant bed is covered with a bronze bedspread and the furniture is dark mahogany. Very masculine.
    ‘Nice. I like it.’
    ‘Laura thinks it’s too boysey.’
    I don’t say anything.
    ‘Sorry,’ he apologises when he sees my face. ‘I shouldn’t keep bringing her up.’
    I sit down on his bed. ‘It must be hard. You’ve known her so many years.’
    He sits down beside me and looks ahead solemnly. ‘It is a bit sad,’ he concedes. ‘But these things happen. We’ve been together so long and, I don’t know, we’ve both changed.’
    I turn to look at him. ‘Would you have broken up with her if you hadn’t met me?’
    He glances at me and looks away again. ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘I feel terrible,’ I say suddenly. ‘She seems like a really nice girl.’
    ‘She is.’ He turns to face me and puts his hand on my knee. ‘But you are, too.’
    ‘I don’t think anyone else is going to see it like that. Holly thinks the British press are going to hate me.’
    Will frowns. ‘That’s not a very nice thing to say.’
    ‘It’s true, though.’
    He grins. ‘Let’s move to Monaco, then.’
    I laugh. ‘Okay!’
    He collapses back on the bed and shuffles up so his head is resting on a pillow. He pats the space next to him so I join him. We stare up at the ceiling as he takes my hand in his.
    ‘Do you ever think you’ll go back to America?’ he asks.
    ‘I will someday. But not for a while.’
    ‘Do you miss it?’
    ‘No.’ My reply is blunt.
    A memory flickers back to me of walking through Central Park on a frosty morning in January a few years ago. I was on the phone to my mother and she was telling me that my father wanted me to come home for dinner that night. I told her I was busy, like I usually do, and I now recall the disappointment in her voice.
    I know I should call her.
    And I also know that I won’t.
    I shake my head to rid myself of my thoughts.
    ‘What are you thinking about?’ Will asks.
    ‘My parents.’
    ‘How long has it been since you’ve seen them?’
    ‘About three years.’
    ‘Wow.’
    ‘Have you thought any more about coming to stay in a hotel near here?’
    ‘Yes, and I couldn’t do that,’ I reply.
    ‘Why not?’ He shifts to face me.
    ‘I just couldn’t, Will.’
    ‘You know what I’m going to do?’ He raises one eyebrow, teasingly.
    ‘What are you going to do?’
    ‘I’m going to book you into The Knightsbridge for a month and pay up front. Then you’ll have no choice but to stay there.’
    ‘You’d better not,’ I say.
    ‘I’m going to.’
    ‘I won’t use the room.’
    ‘Yes, you will.’ He wraps his arm around me and pulls me to him. I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat, smiling. It feels so right in his arms. ‘Or you could just stay here, with me.’
    ‘I wish I could,’ I tell him. ‘But that wouldn’t be fair on Laura.’
    He doesn’t say anything for a while, then he speaks.
    ‘I’ll have to tell her about you sooner rather than later.’
    I prop myself up and look at him. ‘Why?’
    ‘She won’t accept that our relationship is over unless I do.’ He pulls me back down.
    ‘Oh God, everyone’s going to think I’m the wicked witch of the west.’
    ‘North-east,’ he corrects me.
    ‘Oi!’ I slap his stomach and it automatically tenses beneath me. ‘It’s not funny.’
    ‘Monaco,’ he jokes, as he pulls me in tighter.
    I smile and relax.
    We lie there in silence for a