Page 84 of The One Plus One
‘Uh…sure.’
She swayed a little when she stood up, and reached for his arm, but he’d already moved away.
They arranged an early breakfast, bade Mrs Deakins a slightly-too-hearty goodnight and made their way slowly up the stairs at the back of the pub. Jess was barely aware of what was said. For she was acutely conscious of him behind her. Of the unsteady way her hips moved when she walked. Of her bare shoulders. Is he watching me? Her mind swirled and dipped in unexpected directions. She wondered, briefly, what it would feel like if he were to lean forward and kiss her bare shoulder. She thought she might have made a small, involuntary sound at the thought of it.
They stopped on the landing, and she turned to face him. It felt as if, three days in, she’d only just seen him.
‘Goodnight, then, Jessica Rae Thomas. With an a and an e.’
Her hand came to rest on the door handle. She gazed up at him then – at his broad shoulders and his clean identikit T-shirt and his soft, sad eyes – and her breath caught in her throat. It had been so long. Would it really be such a bad idea? She pushed down on the handle and leant in. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘I’d offer to make you coffee. But you’re always up first anyway.’
She didn’t know what to say. It was possible she was just gazing at him.
‘Um…Jess?’
‘What?’
‘Thanks. For everything. The sickness stuff, the birthday surprise…In case I don’t get a chance to say this tomorrow…’ he gave her a lopsided smile ‘…as ex-wives go, you were definitely my favourite.’
Jess tried to smile back, but her answer dried in her throat. She pushed at the door. She was going to say something else, but she was distracted by the fact that the door didn’t move.
She turned and pushed down on the handle again. It gave, opened an inch, and no more.
‘What?’
‘I can’t open the door,’ she said, putting both her hands on it. Nothing.
Mr Nicholls walked over and pushed. It gave the tiniest amount. ‘It’s not locked,’ he said, working the handle. ‘There’s something blocking it.’
She squatted down, trying to see, and Mr Nicholls turned on the landing light. Through the two inches of door space, she could just make out Norman’s bulk on the other side of the door. He was lying on the mattress, his huge back to her.
‘Norman,’ she hissed. ‘Move.’
Nothing.
‘Norman.’
‘If I push, he’ll have to wake up, right?’ Mr Nicholls began leaning on the door. He rested his full weight on it. Then he pushed. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said.
Jess shook her head. ‘You don’t know my dog.’
He let go of the handle and the door shut with a gentle click. They stared at each other.
‘Well…’ he said finally. ‘There are two beds in here. It’ll be fine.’
She grimaced. ‘Um. Norman is sleeping on the other single. I moved the mattress in there earlier.’
He looked at her wearily then. ‘Knock on the door?’
‘Tanzie is stressed. I can’t run the risk of waking her. It’s fine. I’ll…I’ll…just sleep on the chair.’
Jess headed down to the bathroom before he could contradict her. She washed and brushed her teeth, gazing at her alcohol-flushed skin in the plastic-framed mirror and trying to stop her thoughts chasing themselves in circles.
When she arrived back at the room, Mr Nicholls was holding up one of his dark grey T-shirts. ‘Here,’ he said, and threw it at her as he walked past to the bathroom. Jess changed into it, trying to ignore the vague eroticism of its clean male smell, pulled the spare blanket and a pillow out of the wardrobe and curled up in the chair, struggling to bring her knees up to a position that made it comfortable. It was going to be a long night.
Some minutes later, Mr Nicholls opened the door and turned off the overhead light. He was wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of dark blue boxers. She saw that his legs bore the long, visible muscles of someone whodoes no-excuses exercise. She knew immediately how they would feel against her own. The thought made her mouth go dry.
