Love Is... (24 page)

I slurped the last of my cocktail and then gestured for the waiter to bring me some more.

Dominic raised his eyebrows. ‘Thirsty, are we?'

I smiled. ‘I need something to tide me over while I'm waiting for you to get to the point.'

He laughed, then waved at the waiter too. ‘Wine list,
please,' he said. Immediately, the Russian supermodel breezed past and handed it to him, lingering gaze intensifying.

Dominic glanced at it, then ordered an expensive-sounding Chablis. He turned back to me.

‘The point I am trying to make, Miss Rigby, is that you have spent the best part of a decade trying to find the secret to everlasting love, and now you've reached the final point, you are deferring responsibility.' He folded his arms across his chest and looked at me. ‘Don't you think that is a little odd?'

I glared at him. ‘How can you accuse me of trying to defer responsibility when I'm the only one who's done any research? I didn't see you and Mandi in the bloody couples' counselling vagina tent in Texas.'

Dominic double blinked. ‘Well, firstly, Mandi and I are not a couple, so that would've been odd.'

I nodded. ‘Odd like the couples' coaching you and I just had with Jed?'

Dominic laughed. ‘Yes, precisely. And secondly, what is a vagina tent?'

‘It's a metaphor,' I said, waving my hand dismissively.

The waiter interrupted us by announcing the arrival of the food, and introducing each dish as though they were guests at a society ball.

Dominic took his chopsticks and pointed them at me. ‘A metaphor that you deliberately used to distract me from my line of questioning.'

I smiled. ‘I was simply making the point that I could not be accused of deferring responsibility when it is I who has conducted the research thus far.'

Dominic dunked a piece of salmon sashimi into the soy
sauce. ‘You may have conducted the research—' he popped it into his mouth and chewed for a moment before swallowing ‘—however, you're just meeting all the experts that Mandi and I lined up for you.'

‘That's not true,' I said, spearing some tempura. ‘The divorce lawyer wasn't on your list.'

Dominic took a long slow glug of wine. ‘We won't find the right answers if we don't ask the right people.'

‘We? What's with all the we's?' I stared at him. ‘What I don't get is why you suddenly give a shit.'

Dominic sat back, looking a little startled.

I continued. ‘The moment you joined the company, all you've cared about is the bottom line.' I smeared some wasabi on a lobster roll, realising that perhaps the oxytocin might be wearing off. ‘You've repeatedly discounted any areas of the business that focus on customer well-being or long-term satisfaction. And now, out of nowhere, you appear with a new-found, and quite frankly dubious, concern for our clients.' I shoved the roll into my mouth and glared at him.

He took another sip of wine, this time quick and fast. ‘Look, I understand it must appear like a complete turnaround—'

‘Yes, it does.'

‘This new service has the potential to be immensely profitable. Not only one-to-one coaching but also weekend retreats, even trips around the world for clients to find the answers themselves. We could treble our turnover in one year.'

I rolled my eyes.

Dominic continued. ‘Look, Ellie, I was brought into the business to make money for the shareholders, not to wrap the clients in cotton wool.'

I sighed. ‘For a man with an MBA, it's odd that you can't see the connection between the two.'

‘The two what?'

‘Happy clients and healthy profits.'

Dominic leaned forward and squeezed my hand. ‘I'm hesitant to blight your utopian view of the world, Ellie. But have you considered for a moment that perhaps by trying to prevent your clients from experiencing any heartbreak, you are in actuality stifling their growth?'

I sat straight up. ‘You think heartbreak is a good thing?'

He downed the rest of his wine. ‘Well, it's certainly the best thing that ever happened to me.'

I arrived home, unsure of two things: the whereabouts of my keys and the rationale behind us ordering a third bottle of wine. I rummaged in my bag, locating all manner of lost objects, not one of which could be used to access my house. After a while Nick came thundering down the staircase and opened the door.

‘Where the hell have you been?' he asked, eyes squinting at the light.

‘Out,' I said stumbling into the hallway. ‘I thought you were out tonight too?'

He went to check his watch, only to realise he was wearing nothing but his boxers and a pair of socks. ‘Yes. I was out this evening. But not all bloody night. Ellie, it must be 4 a.m. Where have you been?'

‘Dominic and—'

He sighed. ‘I might have known old slimy pants would be involved. Fabulous.'

‘Fabulous what? That your wife is no longer the teetotal
bore who stays in every night, waiting for you to rock up stinking of whiskey?'

He laughed, although his eyes remained pinched. ‘Fabulous that my wife is oblivious to the fact her twat of a colleague is trying to shag her.'

I sighed. ‘We just went for dinner.'

‘Oh, Dominic and I just went for dinner.' He cocked his hand and starting parading around the room with clenched buttocks.

‘Well, that's all it was.'

He paused his show for a moment. ‘Even in New York, restaurants don't stay open to…' he craned his neck to see the clock on the wall ‘…4.37 a.m. You must have gone somewhere else.'

‘A bar.'

‘Well, that's bloody obvious. Which one?'

I screwed up my face. ‘I don't know. We got a taxi there. I think it was a jazz bar.'

‘Ooh, Dominic took me to a jazz bar.' He recommenced his silly walk around the room, his boxer and sock combo doing nothing for him. ‘My “colleague” and I went to a jazz bar. How wonderful.'

I was starting to get irritated. ‘And you?' I asked. ‘Were you mentoring Jenna this evening?'

‘Mentoring?'

‘It's a polite way of saying flirting.'

‘I don't flirt.'

‘No, of course not. You're just discriminately friendly to pretty girls.'

He scowled at me. ‘Don't turn this around onto me, Ellie. You're in the wrong and you know it.'

‘How am I wrong?'

‘You fancy that guy. I can tell. And you're still hanging out with him. Worse still, you're now going on holiday together.'

‘It's a work trip,' I said. ‘Besides, I told you, I'll come back for a few weekends. And you can come visit me too?'

Nick shook his head. ‘Jenna and I are swamped at work right now, it will be almost impossible.'

I let out a long slow breath, as though trying to exhale any thoughts of Jenna, and then walked towards him and put my arms around his neck. ‘I love you,' I said. ‘That will never change. You have nothing to worry about.'

He stepped back and stared at me. ‘I wish I could believe you, Ellie.'

‘You can,' I said.

He looked me in the eye. ‘You of all people know that we shouldn't be complacent.'

I took a deep breath. ‘We'll be fine,' I said. ‘Now come on, let's go to bed.'

He pulled me back, his eyes pleading. ‘I don't want you to go with him.'

I frowned.

‘On the trip,' he said. ‘I don't want you to go with him.'

I looked back at him and, for a brief moment, considered relenting. But then I realised that our marriage wasn't just about Nick's wants, it was about my needs too. And I needed to find the answers I'd been searching for. Not only for us, but for my clients too.

Chapter 20

I
t was only our second month in New York, but as I watched Nick heave my suitcase into the back of a yellow taxi, it felt as though I were leaving home all over again. I'd left my hopes for a family in London, but now part of me worried that I might be leaving something greater here.

Nick had offered to accompany me to the airport, an act which I would have liked to consider romantic, although I suspected was more of a final attempt to persuade me to stay or failing that, at the very least, an opportunity to take the piss out of Dominic.

Dominic was standing in the check-in queue when we arrived. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a Paul Smith shirt. I immediately sensed Nick tense.

‘Ooh look, Dominic has got his best shirt on,' he said.

I glared at Nick. ‘Is it really necessary to start every sentence about Dominic with an effeminate “ooh”?'

Nick laughed. ‘Yes. It is.'

I turned to him and wagged my finger. ‘And you need to stop with the bottom-clenching walk too. He'll notice.'

Nick chuckled. ‘That is the point.'

When we reached the check-in queue, Dominic stepped forward to greet us. He addressed Nick first.

‘All right, mate?' he said to Nick.

Nick broadened his shoulders and shook Dominic's hand. ‘All right.'

Then Dominic turned to me with a smile. ‘So, Ellie, are you ready for Reykjavik?'

I laughed. ‘Yes, although I still don't fully understand why we wiped Bali off the list.'

Dominic turned to Nick and raised an eyebrow. ‘You know what women are like unsupervised with a travel budget.'

Nick smirked.

‘Have you ever been to Reykjavik, mate?' Dominic asked Nick.

Nick nodded. ‘Yes, mate,' he said, enunciating the ‘mate' as if to mock Dominic's attempts at British colloquialisms.

‘He went there for a stag do,' I added.

Dominic chuckled. ‘Ah,' he said, ‘any recommendations?'

Nick smirked. ‘Yeah, keep out of the whorehouses, they're a rip-off.'

I rolled my eyes. ‘He's joking,' I said, noticing Dominic looking a little annoyed. I nudged Nick in the ribs.

Nick laughed. ‘Seriously,
mate,
it's a beautiful country.' He squeezed my hand. ‘I'd always promised Ellie I'd take her one day.'

Dominic glanced up at the departure board and then gestured
to the check-in desk. ‘We'd better get a move on,' he said, turning to me. ‘Let me take your case, Ellie.'

Nick swooped in and snatched it off him. ‘I've got it,' he said.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Thanks, but it has wheels. I'm really OK by myself.'

Once we'd reclaimed a place in the queue, Dominic manned the cases while Nick and I said goodbye.

Nick slipped his hands around my waist and glanced over my shoulder.

‘I'm finding it hard to be sincere with old beady eyes over there watching us,' he said.

I looked behind me to see Dominic pretending to be busy on his phone.

‘Oh ignore him,' I said. ‘I want to say goodbye properly.'

Nick swallowed. ‘You'll be back at the end of May, right?'

‘Or before,' I said. ‘Maybe I could pop back next weekend? Or the one after?'

Nick rolled his eyes. ‘Pop back? You're not nipping out to the corner shop. You're travelling across four different time zones.'

I scowled at him. ‘Millions of people manage long-distance relationships, Nick.'

‘Millions?' he said, laughing. Then he kissed me. ‘I'm going to miss you,' he said.

I took a sharp breath. ‘Me too,' I said.

He held my waist tighter and looked me in the eye. ‘Don't go,' he said.

‘I have to.'

He sighed. ‘It's not as if the matchmaking Mafia are holding you to ransom. You don't have to.'

‘It's something I need to do,' I said. ‘Are you sure you can't take a few weeks' holiday and join me for a bit?'

Nick sighed. ‘I told you, I'm swamped.' He looked down. Then he looked back up at me, eyes teary. ‘I love you, Ellie Rigby.'

I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his. ‘I love you too,' I said.

He wiped his eyes and then took my hands in his. ‘Promise me one thing,' he said.

I smiled. ‘Yes,' I said.

‘Two months is a long time,' he began. ‘The world is full of temptations.'

I nodded.

‘You have to promise me…' his gaze intensified ‘… promise me that no matter what happens, in the time you're away, you won't…' He paused again. ‘Promise me you won't…'

‘Won't what?'

Suddenly a smiled edged out from the corners of his mouth. ‘Get fat,' he said and then burst out laughing.

I slapped him on the chest. ‘You're not funny,' I said.

He pulled me into his arms. ‘Oh, and don't shag that twat either, you know it would kill me.'

The next morning, my phone alerted me to the fact that Reykjavik was four hours ahead of my body clock. In two hours, Dominic and I were due to meet Dr Gunnarsson, a sociologist, who, according to Mandi's notes, was going to explain why Iceland's inhabitants report the highest levels of happiness while at the same time suffering one of the highest divorce rates in the world. I jumped out of bed and shivered, briefly contemplating showering in my thermals.

I was still shivering at breakfast with Dominic.

‘It's so bloody cold here,' I said. ‘Maybe people are happier divorced because it means they can keep their clothes on in bed.' I craned my neck to see if there was a coffee pot anywhere on the hotel breakfast counter.

Dominic, seemingly in tune with my needs, jumped up and grabbed a pot. I watched him while he poured me a cup. He was rocking the Iceland chic, broad shoulders insulated in a stylish cable-knit jumper, while I was layered in several old hiking fleeces. Once he'd poured the coffee, he picked up a hunk of rye bread and studied it.

‘Do married people have sex? I thought they didn't,' he said, taking a bite.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Of course we do.'

He raised his eyebrows and reached for the jam. ‘No need to be defensive. I wasn't necessarily referring to you.'