February 2018

ZOE

It's a whirlwind of a week. With Mark on mandatory leave, he practically moves in with me. During the hours I'm not at work, we have sex like rabbits, on every surface of my flat, only stopping to eat, wash, and sleep. Mark doesn't make love. He fucks. Even when he's whispering in my ear about how much he adores me, his body is working like a relentless, orgasm-inducing machine, slick with sweat, hard and fast, making me come over and over again.

Out of bed, he dotes on me like the perfect boyfriend. Cooks me breakfast, prepares my packed lunches, sorts dinner for when I'm back... In the evenings, he runs me baths and strokes my hair as I soak in the coconut-scented water. I'm not sure where the coconut bubble bath came from.

Then his leave is over, and he returns to work. The first evening I'm alone, I lie in bed and flick through my phone, mindlessly searching for a distraction, because all I can think about is him. My sheets still smell of cedarwood. My vagina aches with over-exertion. It's like he's still here. But he's not. And this is how it will be from now on. Our week together was magical. Perfect. But not reality.

Even though he hates texting, I can't resist sending him a message.

Me: I miss you x

Immediately, the three dots begin to bounce. Reassurance warms my heart that he's stopped whatever he's doing to read my message and reply.

Mark: I miss you too beautiful. X

*

The next evening, he's here again. It's late, almost midnight when he gets off his shift, but any drowsiness slips away as soon as I open the door. And so do my doubts.

A routine forms over the following month. On my days off, I go to his place. On his days off, he comes to mine. Sometimes we only get a couple of hours together. Occasionally, fate intervenes, our shift patterns align, and we get a whole weekend. There's a clock ticking, one counting down to my secondment, but we ignore it, like it doesn't exist. Like there's no expiry to this fantasy.

I thought I fell in love with Mark ten years ago. Somehow, though, he creeps into corners of my heart I didn't know existed. He peels back every layer of my soul until I'm laid bare for him, every vulnerability exposed and susceptible to exploitation. There's nothing left in me to give.

And then the defenceless shards of my heart are offered reinforcements. He opens up to me. Slowly, at first. Small mentions of Ben, just in passing, whenever he sees something that evokes a memory. Those small mentions become longer conversations, ones that lead onto stories about his family. His childhood. His darkest thoughts. His deepest fears.

In just six weeks, we cross lines we've never crossed in the whole eleven years we've known each other. I said my secondment was bad timing, but maybe there's no such thing. Maybe it's the push we needed to let each other in.

"Do we need to talk?"

It's him who broaches the topic, as we're lying in bed the night before I leave for the US, and it's the ultimate irony that the guy who used to hate communication is now the one encouraging we partake in it.

"I'd rather not." I keep my eyes closed even though I can feel his stare burning into my skull beside me.

"Come here." He wriggles closer, tugs me effortlessly into a spooning position, and nuzzles his face in my hair. "I love you."

"I love you too," I mumble back.

If I say anything else, the floodgates will open, and I'll be sobbing into his massive bicep like a hormonal teenager.

"Will I be a distraction?" he then asks, soft but matter of fact.

"I don't know," I reply honestly. "Until I'm over there and know what it's like... How intense it is... A distraction might even be a good thing."

"I don't want to fuck this up, Zo."

"Me neither."

I thread my fingers through his and bring his inner wrist to my lips, kissing the tiny tattoo that's normally hidden beneath his watch. A date: his first shift with Ben. I didn't realise it existed until recently.

Against my shoulder blade, his heart thumps to a strong, steady rhythm, every beat representing a lost second of time together. Wrapped in his arms like this, I can almost pretend it'll all be fine. He's safe. A life raft in a rough ocean. A shelter in a torrential storm. But just like they're temporary solutions, the timing has never been right for us.

I stopped believing in fate a long time ago. It's just as well, really, otherwise I might start to believe it's telling me something.

*

The woman at the next sink along shoots me a sympathetic smile through the mirror. I strain my quivering lips to return it as I dab at the mascara smudged beneath my eyes and will my tear ducts to close up and give me a break.

Last night I dreamt of Richard. I was walking down the aisle towards him, but with every step I took, his body morphed into Mark before changing back. The aisle grew longer and longer. No matter how far I walked, I didn't get closer. From the front row, a woman rose from her chair and took the spot that should have been mine.

I started to run, trying to get down the aisle faster, screaming silent words. Mark wasn't listening to me. He had eyes only for the other woman. He slipped a ring on her finger, kissed her, then vanished into thin air.

I didn't need a psychology degree to understand that dream, but even now, as I cry in Heathrow's toilets, I can't shift the anxiety of history repeating itself. JJ cheated on me after I told him I loved him for the first time. Richard left me after I agreed to marry him. Now I'm about to fly to the other side of the world, leaving behind a man who I've just let into my heart.

*

Even though I failed to get this promotion at The Portman, at least I was surrounded by kind, supportive people. People who made the job enjoyable despite not being in the role I truly wanted.

Now I am in the role of my dreams, and I'm working alongside a nightmare of a man. Jarrod has a bee in his bonnet, one that buzzes around and stings him constantly, leaving him with a permanent grimace on his bronzed face.

He's supposed to be my second in command, the colleague tasked with showing me the ropes and bringing me up to speed. Within half a day, I'd identified three key areas that need improvement, and Jarrod seemed to take it as a personal slight. Apparently I can't expect to mosey in here and change things up when I have no familiarity with the hotel yet.

"You ordered the systems?" He barges into my office in a cloud of anger and aftershave. "I told you they won't work. Are you too stubborn to listen? I get you wanna come in here and make a difference, but you need to take our feedback seriously."

Fortunately, the part of my brain susceptible to hurt is too occupied worrying about Mark, so his rude behaviour barely makes a chink in my armour.

I've never had to deal with difficult staff—only customers—and while I totally appreciate that I'm a stranger who's stormed into his well-loved home and started to rearrange the furniture, he has to accept that this place needs a fresh perspective.

"The systems will help in the long run." I don't bother looking up from my laptop screen, because I've already had this conversation with him three times, so what's the point in wasting energy going over it again? "Front of house need to spend less time on admin and more time on customer service."

"Our customer service is fine."

I chuckle and glance up at that. "Your own personable skills are appalling, so forgive me if I don't take your opinion on the matter seriously."

A flush creeps up his neck as his shoulders lock and fists clench. That poor little bee is working overtime today. The annoying truth is, though, what Jarrod lacks in people skills he makes up for operationally. He's savvy, he's intelligent, he's a hard worker. That's why I know this resistance is an issue with me and not my ideas.

"You'll just alienate everyone working here," he says.

"I'm here to be a boss, not a friend." The words taste bitter on my tongue, though.

I'm having lunch with two of our colleagues later, and it's not a business meeting. Carmen and Tameka took me under their wing when I started, both inside the hotel and out. Anything those two women don't know about LA isn't worth knowing. We meet up for lunch and dinner multiple times a week, and I'd like to think a friendship is brewing. Hell knows I need one now that I've upgraded my previous confidant. I can hardly talk about Mark to Mark.

"Is there anything else?" I ask Jarrod.

He huffs. "Yes. I want to take some PTO. The last few weeks have been incredibly stressful, and I need some time to rest."

Incredibly stressful? Because of me, presumably. If arguing with me was really so stressful, he should try cooperating for a while instead. Change up the pace. Reap the benefits.

"Sure." I tap my laptop. "Log it on the new holiday portal."

"I tried. It won't let me. I need to give two weeks' notice, apparently."

"Yes, that's right."

Irritation slices across his face. "Why? My PTO should be my choice."

"We need time to get handovers in place and ensure a buffer so we can review all requests without inadvertently approving too many people off at the same time."

With a shake of his bleached blond head, he spits out a derisive scoff.

"You're running a dictatorship here, Zoe."

"I'm running a business." I raise my voice. This entitled dick doesn't get to walk all over me. "I was brought in for a reason. As Operations, you are more than aware of that, so how about you start working with me instead of against me?"

He throws his arms in the air. "'With you' suggests a partnership. You're not interested in my feedback."

This is going round in circles. Ultimately, Jarrod came in here looking for a fight, so anything I say now will be met with resistance. I need a new angle.

"Let's schedule some time together." I shake my mouse to wake up my screen. "One-on-one. We need to understand each other if we're going to work together. How about Friday afternoon?"

He bristles, shifting from foot to foot as he undoubtedly searches for an excuse. When he comes up short, he just nods.

One battle at a time. And I thought my biggest job would be changing this hotel.

*

Carmen, Tameka and I walk the few short blocks to the waterside restaurant. The Californian sun beats down on my bare shoulders, and sweat trickles down my spine, but the sweltering stroll is worth it for the sea breeze and stunning view of the Pacific Ocean.

Would Mark like it here? He's not much of a beach bum, but LA has the city life that he's so accustomed to. It's only a week until he's over here with Ed. Knots swirl in my tummy whenever I think about it. I can't decide if I'm excited or anxious.

"It's beautiful, right?" Tameka nudges me and tips her head towards the sea.

"So beautiful. Sorry. Was lost in my thoughts there."

Carmen scrunches her nose. "Not thinking about Jarrod, I hope?"

Chuckling, I pick up the menu. "No. The other man in my life, actually."

Both women clutch their hearts in perfect synchronisation. In some ways, they are crazy in tune with each other, despite only having met a little over a year ago. I guess some people just click like that.

Personality wise, though, they couldn't be more different. Tameka is soft-spoken, reserved and sensitive. Carmen is full of energy, speaks without thinking, and has a vibrant wardrobe to match her confident persona. Opposites attract, and that seems to be the case with these two. I'm not sure where I fit in yet, but they don't seem bored of me, and I don't think it's because I'm their boss.

"Jarrod was bitching again earlier," Carmen says.

I hold up a hand. "Honestly—it's fine. I love spending time with you two, but please don't feel like you need to be my ears on the ground and relay stuff back to me. I'd never want to put you in that position."

"Are you joking? It's because you're my friend that I feel able to express how I really feel about the tool. Rather than just keeping it professional, you know?"

I smile down at my menu. Apparently Jarrod tests everyone's professionalism. Still, I have to be diplomatic. While I love this blossoming friendship, I've been burnt too many times before to risk letting down my guard.

"It's still early days," I say. "There's bound to be some teething issues."

Carmen drums her neon orange fingernails against the table. With a scrunch of her mouth and tip of her head, she replies, "You do realise it's not just teething issues, right?"

Across from her, Tameka clears her throat. "Car..."

"No, she needs to know. Basically, Zoe, Jarrod applied for your job. He's being difficult out of pettiness, so it's nothing to do with you personally. Just thought you should know that."

Unease stirs in my stomach. It doesn't excuse Jarrod's rude attitude, but it helps to explain it. After all, I've been there. Multiple times. You want a job badly, and someone external with no experience of your hotel swoops in and snatches it away.

I told Carmen that I didn't need her to be my ears on the ground, but maybe this piece of insight will actually help me gain some ground with Jarrod. 

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

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How do you think Mark and Zoe will cope with long distance?