Page 94 of In the Same Boat

‘Well,’ he says casually as he tops up his coffee from the cafetière, ‘looks like I’ll be taking your mum in permanently then.’

I blink at him.

‘How do you mean?’ I ask.

I swear he nods at my T-shirt.

‘You and Nico seem to have fallen hard, I assumed you’d be taking him off my hands – but that seems like a fair swap, for your mum.’

He sounds like he’s joking, or at least saying things in a light-hearted way, but… I dunno. There’s a knot in my stomach and I don’t think it’s from my hangover.

He’s not seriously suggesting that he takes Mum off my hands, while I give his son a new place to live. Don’t get me wrong, I want Mum to move on, and it sounds like Hank is sick of Nico living at home, but the idea of a trade… after a week…

‘Nico and I are similar, not usually the settling-down type,’ he points out. ‘But I could see us becoming new men, for you and Chrissy… Nico needs someone like you to straighten him out. He shouldn’t be living with his dad, and his job is quite silly – he needs stability and maturity, and you could give him that. Nico’s always been allergic to anything serious, but he seems different around you.’

I know he means well, and he’s probably complimenting me, but it’s giving me the ick.

He talks about Nico as though he’s this big man-child in need of rehabilitation, and that I might be up for the challenge of fixing him. When he talks about his immaturity, his job selling video games (I suppose he thinks he should have more of a career – but, like I said, Hank does have a yacht, so his aspirations must be high), the fact he lives at home, and don’t think I didn’t clock what he said, about Nico not being the settling-down type – all things he makes it sound like a ‘good woman’ could put right.

Suddenly it all makes sense. Every piece of the jigsaw clicks into place and I don’t like the final image. All of this is just Nico having fun. The games, messing with our parents, hooking up with me after previously seeming like he didn’t even like me. It’s all a game. A bit of role play. I’m just another girl to have a laugh with in an otherwise unserious life.

The thing is, as much as I like Nico, I’m looking for a partner, not a project.

And suddenly every little thing I’ve selectively ignored about Nico starts rearranging itself in my head differently – he’s the kind of guy who has sex in the toilets of a Monte Carlo club. I know, I was there too, and more than willing, but you know me, I’m a boring engineer, I look at hydraulic models for fun. I never do anything like this.

I feel my grip tighten on my bottle as I realise the mess I’ve got myself into. I know, it’s only been a week. The problem isn’t that Nico slept with me for nothing more than the love of the game, of his dad trying to get me to take him in like a problem dog that needs rehoming; it’s that I let myself catch feelings without really thinking it through. I’m usually so cautious, I never take risks – so how have I found myself here?

Suddenly last night feels horribly naive. Like I’ve mistaken sexual chemistry for substance. We’ve been faking at being loved-up for days, and the person who has fallen the hardest for the scam is me. In hindsight – which really is always twenty-twenty, isn’t it? – I don’t think we actually thought any of this through. I think a strong sense of discomfort and a steady flow of champagne had us acting silly. Coupled with the sun exposure – because heatstroke can make you do all sorts… We didn’t think it through. We really fucked it up.

I force a smile that couldn’t feel more unnatural if I tried.

‘Anyway, I’m going back to bed,’ I tell him.

‘Okay,’ he replies. ‘See you for breakfast shortly? If you can stomach it.’

He laughs, but I really don’t think I can stomach any of this.

‘You okay?’ he asks, his expression softening.

‘Yeah,’ I say quickly. ‘Just very hungover.’

Which is technically true.

I escape back towards the cabins before he can ask any more questions, or drop any more facts to make me question my life choices.

Inside Nico’s cabin, the curtains glow softly with morning sunlight now.

Shit. He’s awake. Sitting up slightly against the pillows, hair still messy, blinking sleepily towards the door as I walk back in.

I feel my breath catch. I’m terrified, because I wasn’t expecting him to be awake. I thought I’d have more time with my thoughts, to figure out what to say, an exit strategy for me to get out of this situation unscathed.

‘Hi,’ he says, his voice rough from sleep.

I hover for a second, squeezing my bottle, getting my ducks in a row. Okay, I can do this. It’s damage minimisation at this point. I’m usually great at that.

‘Morning,’ I reply.

‘Could I have some of that please?’ he asks, nodding in my direction.