March 2011

ZOE

It's one of those days. The ones where everything that could possibly go wrong, goes wrong. A plumbing disaster. Broken wi-fi. An ill head chef. Double-booked rooms. Angry customers.

Among the chaos, there is a strong force keeping me grounded. Richard and I have made a great team since moving to Spain, and today we divide and conquer. He tackles the behind-the-scenes technical issues, while my Spanish is put to the test dealing with the customer-facing problems.

Adrenaline sees me through, and every problem I solve lights a flame of confidence that powers me through the next one. I can't cower in the corner and wait for the day to pass. I step up. I delegate. I suggest a reduced menu and then reallocate one cleaner and one waiter to the kitchen to help support the other chefs. I call up other hotels in the vicinity, ask them if they have any spare rooms.

Every hour, Richard and I check in with each other. We re-group, re-prioritise, and keep going until everything is back on track.

When we stumble into our flat later that night, exhausted yet buzzed from the day's events, he cups my face in his hands and presses me up against the wall.

"Best decision I ever made coming to Spain with you." He kisses me once, twice, three times, until I'm laughing and pushing against his chest to beg for air.

"It wasn't your decision," I remind him, hooking my thumbs in his belt loops. "They asked me to pick a colleague, and I decided you'd make me look good."

"Mm, more like you decided you couldn't bear to spend a year away from me."

"Sure. That was the real reason."

"In a few years, you'll look back on today as the day your boyfriend helped you earn your boss's undying approval."

I click my tongue. "I'll be running my own hotel in a few years, thank you very much."

"Hell, yeah, you will." He grins. "And I'll be your biggest competitor. But don't worry, I'll still be on hand to help you out of sticky situations."

"That a promise?" I raise my eyebrows at him. "Even when I'm draining your client base due to running the better hotel, you'll still help me out?"

"Of course. We're a team." Still cradling my jaw, he tips my head back to look up into his twinkling brown eyes. "Look at what our teamwork achieved in just one day." He plants a soft kiss to my forehead. "Imagine what we could achieve in a lifetime." The next kiss lands on the bridge of my nose, before his lips dip down to mine. "Marry me, Z," he whispers against my mouth.

My stomach somersaults. That sounded suspiciously like a proposal. Our relationship has intensified over the past six months, but we've never talked about the future. Long-term. There are two other people in the picture who we agreed would take priority if they ever resurfaced. Mine hasn't. And neither has his.

"What about Christian?" I'm so terrified of the answer that I can barely get the words out.

His thumb brushes my cheek. "I can't wait around for him forever. What you and I have is special. I want to prove you're my first choice now." A soft puff of air tickles my lips as he sighs. "But I know what Mark means to you too. If you still want to wait—"

"I gave him a year." The words sound brutal on my tongue, and I know it's because a small part of me has continued hoping he'll message, even after his deadline expired. "I don't think he's coming back. If he's still not ready for me, maybe his feelings were never as strong as mine."

The corner of Richard's mouth squeezes in a sympathetic smile. "You'll be my priority. Marry me and I'll prove it."

How can I turn him down? Mark might never be ready, and then I'll have lost a guy who did care for me. Who did love me. What Richard and I share is special, he's right. Maybe it's not as electric as what Mark and I share, but sometimes that's better. If it's not as electric, it's less likely to blow up.

"Okay," I whisper.

Surprise flits across his face. "Seriously?"

"Do I get to pick the ring?"

"Uh..." His mouth curls into a guilty grin. "Maybe. I know that's not conventional, but if it's what you want."

"Nothing about our relationship has ever been conventional." I slide my palms up his chest. "And I know this is a spontaneous proposal, so I won't judge you for not being prepared."

"Spontaneous in that I haven't yet bought a ring, but not spontaneous in that I haven't thought about it." Hesitation clouds his face. "Shit. I probably should've asked your dad first."

I shake my head and loop my hands behind his neck. "No. It's fine. Hard to ask my dad when we're living in separate countries."

Plus I can't bear to imagine that conversation. Dad has already adopted Mark as a son-in-law. He'll be happy for me, of course he will, but there will be that desperately concealed element of disappointment that would overshadow everything else. As for my mother... I don't even want to think about her reaction.

"We'll be an unstoppable force, Z." He twirls a lock of my hair around one finger. "I promise."

*

"You did what?" Mum shrieks down the phone, like I've just told her I've robbed a bank.

It's not the happy reaction I'd hoped for, but I'm not surprised.

"Paul!" Pulling the phone away from her mouth barely reduces the noise of her shout. "Come and listen to what your daughter's done!"

"Mum," I say through gritted teeth, thankful Richard isn't in to witness this, "you've met Richard. You like Richard."

She tuts. "I like him just fine, Zoe, but you don't, and that's the issue."

My face heats, anger shooting down my spine. "I love him. I—"

"Does Mark know?" she asks.

"What's going on?" Dad's voice joins the conversation, and I bury my face in my hand, rubbing my temple. "You okay, Zo?"

I stretch out on the sofa and hug a cushion to my stomach. "I'm fine. Richard proposed to me last night."

Silence. On the other end of the line, they'll be exchanging looks with one another. Wordlessly communicating. I know it. It's the reason I didn't want to have this conversation over Skype.

"That's great news, Zo," Dad says softly. "Congratulations. How wonderful. Will you be coming home to celebrate?"

"Our secondment here ends in May," I tell him. "We'll probably wait until then and throw a joint party or something."

We haven't discussed it. Haven't even thought about it.

"Good idea." Mum's huffy tone increases my blood pressure again. "May is two months away. Plenty of time to realise you're making a mistake."

"Evelyn—"

"No, Paul. Someone needs to tell her she's not thinking straight. Swept up in some holiday romance—"

"It's not a holiday romance," I cut in, my fingers biting into the cushion. "We've been together eighteen months now. I'm twenty-six and need to start thinking about my future."

Granted the first six months of the past year and a half were a situationship rather than a relationship, but I'm not getting into semantics with Mum. It won't help my case.

"And where does Mark fit into this 'future'?" I can visualise the air quotes. "Have you even told him you're engaged?"

"Mum, apart from a message on my birthday last month, Mark hasn't spoken to me in the last year."

"You did give him an ultimatum, so I'm hardly surprised."

A weight presses down on my lungs, oxygen momentarily escaping me. He'd told her about that? So clearly my 'ultimatum' was on his mind, and he still didn't want to be with me enough to take the leap.

"I didn't give him an ultimatum. I gave him space and time to process. There's a difference. I can't put my life on hold forever. He wouldn't want me to."

"Of course he wouldn't, because he cares for you, Zoe. He wants what's best for you. Does Richard want what's best for you?"

"Come on, Evelyn. That's not fair. Mark is a grown man who can look out for himself. Richard is a lovely boy. Let's just be happy for Zoe."

"Thank you, Dad."

I didn't miss the subtle distinction, though: man versus boy. Their age difference is only four years. Plus, in some respects, Richard has more emotional maturity, and that's exactly what I need. Maturity. Communication. Companionship. Those things make a relationship. Everything else is a bonus, but not enough to work on their own.

Anyway, the full package is a myth. Impossible to achieve, resulting only in heartbreak when you try.

I've made the right choice. I just need my parents to see it that way, too.

*

I'm checking emails out of hours when there's a knock at the door. At 9pm, it's not the postman, and Richard tilts a pleading smile at me from his seat on the other side of the dining table.

"Your Spanish is better than mine," he says by way of explanation.

Groaning, I scrape my chair back with an ear-piercing screech of wood on wood, and plod over to the hallway. It's probably our landlord. She lives upstairs and comes down every so often to check on us in the kind of way an elderly grandmother would do. Still, at 9pm, it's late for her.

I pull open the door, brain engaged in Spanish. Then every thought, in every language, drains out of me.

Mark stands there. Dark jeans. White polo shirt. Holdall bag over his shoulder. His hair is shorter, face clean-shaven. Shoulders broader. But he's just as tall. Assured. Commanding.

"Zoe."

***

Thank you for reading :) xx 

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How is Mark going to react? 

If you can't wait to find out, you can read ahead on Ream, where we are currently up to chapter 38!