Page 35

“Anyway, where were we?” Iona says. “Oh, ages ago, you were telling me about things guests have left behind in their rooms. Were there any other funny things you haven’t mentioned yet?”

“Er . . .” That topic had been dying a death, but then again, I deliberately missed out some of the racier things I’ve found. Is talking about them a bad idea, given our history? Hmm, she seems pretty relaxed, and besides, I know her well enough to know the kinds of things that pique her interest.

“Well, one time, under the bed, I found a pair of fluffy handcuffs. Kinky, eh? And let’s just say the guests who’d been staying in that room weren’t on the young side.”

I’m testing the water, making sure she’s amused rather than offended, but she lets out a chuckle, so I take that as permission to go on.

“On another occasion a collar and lead were left, and that couple did not bring a dog with them. Then there’s the time I found a set of Kama Sutra cards. Wow, those images were detailed!”

“Oh, you looked through them, did you?”

I shrug. “Nothing wrong with being curious. And let’s just say I learnt a thing or two. I’d never even thought of some of those positions before.”

I wonder if this is too close to the bone, but Iona raises an eyebrow, intrigued. Maybe she’s thinking what I’m thinking, which is that when we were together, there weren’t many positions we didn’t try.

She takes a sip of her water.

“Oh, and then there was the set of nipple clamps attached to a twelve-inch strap-on.”

Iona’s eyes bulge and she chokes and splutters, spraying water everywhere, but mainly over her dress.

“Shit.” I jump to my feet. “I was only joking about that one. Are you okay? I’ll run to the bar and grab something.”

She waves me back to my seat and clears her throat. “No, I’ve got tissues here.” She pulls a few out and dabs at her dress . . . specifically, her breasts.

Crap, she’s dabbing her wet breasts in front of me. Whatever you do, Lewis, don’t stare. Oi, I said don’t stare!

“Er . . .” To distract myself from what she’s doing, I should really keep the conversation going, but unfortunately my mind has gone blank. I cannot think of a single thing to say.

“So . . .” I stare at the fire. C’mon, Lewis, you can think of something. Anything! “Do you think your niece and my nephew will grow up being as close as we were?”

There’s only a week between Callie and Ru. What’s more, Ally and Aidan are best mates, as are Emily and Grace.

I redirect my attention to Iona, maintaining eye contact, refusing to let my gaze dip.

“Quite possibly,” she says, glancing up from her chest. “But I’ll politely encourage Callie to spend more time than I did fostering relationships with female friends. Those bonds are important—for when your male best friend inevitably screws you over.”

Ouch.

The conversation is veering away from the light-heartened mood I’ve tried hard to cultivate, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “Do you ever wonder if it was a mistake to make our relationship sexual? Because we were such good mates, you and I, but . . . we’ve lost that.”

Her eyes narrow. “That wasn’t the mistake, Lewis. The mistake came later—and was entirely on you.”

I wince. “Aye, you’re right. And I realise this isn’t good enough, but . . . I am sorry. I’m still beating myself up for it now, six years on.”

I’m expecting her to say something like, And so you should be. But instead she sighs.

“Look, I should hardly be the one to comfort you—it doesn’t make any sense for that job to fall on me. But for what it’s worth, I’m aware you haven’t had much luck in relationships over the last few years.”

Understatement of the century. I’ve tried, I really have, but nothing ever lasts because, quite frankly, no one can compare to Iona. Every other woman on the planet falls short. I had it all, and I messed everything up.

“Again, it shouldn’t be me who says this, but sort yourself out. Move on. I mean, I’ve found Richard, and he’s . . .” She hesitates, searching for the right word. “. . . nice. You should try to find someone too.”

Wow. She’s being kinder to me than I have any right to expect her to be, but there’s a problem—a rather significant one.

I take a gulp of lager. “I don’t know that I can move on,” I admit. “I doubt I’ll ever find anyone even half as good as you.” As soon as I make this admission, I realise it’s probably a step too far.

Iona watches me quietly for the longest time before rising to her feet. “I think this is where we should leave things.”