‘Don’t what?’
Quin shook his head. After a moment of silence he touched my knee with the toe of his shoe. ‘So what’s the sexy dress about?’
‘Must it be about anything?’
‘Not because you wore a dress for the night with Kallie and Luke and I complained I never saw you in one?’
‘Well … I mean, you had a point.’ Then, ‘Quin? Are you okay?’
‘Yeah. Sorry. Probably just tired.’ Making a visible effort to be nice, he said, ‘So. How are things with your ex-husband?’
Shoving down a thousand confusing feelings, I said, ‘Kallie’s already gone back and he’ll be off in the next few days.’
‘And? Are you okay?’
‘Yes … But …’ Suddenly the chance to unburden myself to Quin was hugely attractive. He cared about me, he’d listen. ‘Things with Luke weren’t as black and white as I’d once thought.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that maybe he wasn’t entirely to blame.’ I forced myself to say the unsayable. ‘Quin, I think I might have relapsed after Yara died …’
‘Um … what? You “think”？ Isn’t a relapse sort of a yes or no situation?’
‘I’m not … exactly sure. I couldn’t sleep and my doctor gave me tablets. They were legal. Prescribed. I started taking more than I should have. I went to a second doctor, then –’
‘But they were legal? You were hardly texting your dealer?’
‘No, but –’
‘And you’re not doing it now, right? He’s the arse who moved to Denver and blocked all contact.’
I took a breath. ‘I’m still trying to figure everything out –’
‘Rach!’ he interrupted. ‘Are we really doing this? Spending our time in this amazing city talking about who was to blame in a marriage which ended six years ago?’
‘… No.’ Then, ‘Of course not.’
Internally, I began pressing down the thoughts and feelings again. This wasn’t the time. Which was a strange relief.
Except … what would we talk about now? I threw a look around the bar and noticed a woman wearing an amazing neck cuff, the sort of thing Claire would wear. ‘Oh God!’ I’d just remembered. ‘I wonder how Claire and Adam are getting on?’
‘Yeah. Good on them.’
‘… Mmmmm.’
‘Oooooh? You’re very judgy.’
‘I’m not.’ I sounded snappy, because I genuinely wasn’t judging anyone. ‘Just worried Claire isn’t being honest with Adam.’
‘Calm down,’ Quin said.
‘Okay.’ I took a breath. ‘Sorry.’
After a couple of extremely pricey drinks, we strolled back to the hotel along the boardwalk, the sucking and crashing of waves reaching us from the darkness.
‘It’s ten to two,’ I said, ‘And I know that’s only ten to one in Ireland, but I still feel glamorous. Debauched, nearly!’
The heat had faded, the breeze had got stronger and Quin took off his jacket and put it around my shoulders.
‘Like we’re in a perfume ad! What should it be called? The perfume? “Mini-break”？’ I whispered it a couple of times in ‘the voice’。
‘It needs to be an emotion,’ Quin said.
‘Amourrr,’ I whispered. ‘Sssssexxx. Loversssssss.’
‘Trrrreachery,’ Quin said.
‘Nostallllllllgia.’
‘Betrayalllllll.’
71
‘Mum says we’re not to go to Las Ramblas. That we’ll get mugged.’
‘We’re not going to Las Ramblas.’ Oh, such scorn from Quin. ‘It’d be as tragic as visiting London and going to Oxford Circus.’
You relapsed and ruined everything.
‘The boardwalk where we were last night’， I read from a blog, ‘is “a popular place for a romantic stroll”。 C’mon, Quin, let’s stroll romantically.’
My phone pinged and Quin’s head jerked up. ‘Text from your ex-husband?’ His tone was acidic.
‘… From Claire.’
‘Well? How did the swinging go?’
It was a fucking disaster.
‘Oh God, no!’ I said. ‘Poor Claire.’
I was JEALOUS. Of Adam and Beatriz.
Then:
Adam was into it. I wasn’t!
Then:
I’ve gone too far this time.
‘This is what happens,’ Quin said obliquely.