Page 50 of In the Same Boat

‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ I reply. ‘More “family” trips with you, my new dad, and the brother from hell.’

She snorts.

‘Hank will never be your new dad, and Nico will never be anything close to a brother to you,’ she insists. ‘You do love to be dramatic.’

‘Says the woman turning my life into a horror movie,’ I point out.

‘Sammie, you can take other holidays, you work too hard, you need more time off.’

She’s not entirely wrong. Work has been a big part of my life for a while now. I’m always trying too hard to prove myself, to show the men that I’m just as good as them – but the second I tried to start having fun, to start dating again, was when Mum turned up looking for a place to stay (which has turned out to be more like a place to live) and we all know how that has ended up.

The main thing I love about my job is the problem-solving. Give me a problem and watch me figure out the quickest, easiest, cheapest way to solve it. Turns out I’m only good at that at work. It isn’t a skill that spills over into my real life.

‘When was the last time you actually switched off?’ Mum asks quietly.

‘I switch off.’

‘I’ve seen you watch drainage webinars on a Friday night,’ she reminds me. ‘Promise me you’ll try to relax while we’re here?’

‘Promise to stop doing things to stress me out?’ I reply, only half joking.

‘I just wanted us both to have a nice time – and a nice life, that’s all. It will be shorter than you think.’

Her words land harder than I was expecting. She’s right, life is short, and no one knows it better than her, the woman who has lost not one but two husbands (while some of us are out here struggling to get even a second date).

I know that she means every word she says. She wanted this to be good. She wanted sunshine and excitement and the possibility of something magical. For herself, yeah, but for me too.

And that’s why I can’t quite stay properly angry.

I turn my head towards her.

‘You could have told me where we were coming – warned me what I was walking into.’

‘I know.’

‘You couldn’t have found a man with a yacht big enough for us to have a bed each?’

She cackles.

‘Oh, Sammie, this is why I’m so glad you’re here. It wouldn’t be as fun without you.’

A small silence settles between us. Suddenly, the bed doesn’t feel quite so small, and my eyes feel heavy, like I might actually be able to sleep – even with the knowledge that Nico is only a door or two away.

I don’t know how he’s managed to get so deeply under my skin; I barely know him. I need to keep reminding myself of that. We’ve spent, what, a few hours together total? A singles night, a brief run-in in my living room, now this – whatever the hell we’re calling this. So how on earth has he managed to take up residence – rent-free, mind you – in my head already? It only makes me feel more annoyed with him. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.

He’s just so smug sometimes. And dry. And frustratingly calm in a way that I envy. But, just between us, he’s also… easier than I expected. Less arrogant (still plenty arrogant, though). More self-aware. Plus, he looked just as horrified to see me as I was to see him, so at least we’re suffering equally.

Still though… I don’t want to spend time with him. To waste energy on a man I have no interest in, just because my mum thinks he’s a nice boy. That’s not a good enough reason to lean into flirting with him for sport – and especially not under parental supervision. Ew. Hell no.

‘I don’t think you hate Nico as much as you pretend to,’ Mum says suddenly, almost like she’s reading my mind.

I practically choke on the air as I hurry out a reply.

‘I absolutely do.’

‘You absolutely don’t.’

She smiles to herself. I can hear it.