Page 81 of You Only Live Once
‘I was just thinking about all the people I’m grateful to for helping me get here tonight, including you.’
‘You did this yourself, Lily. I certainly didn’t do very much at all, if anything.’
‘You agreed to come with me, despite being volunteered and therefore not exactly being given a lot of choice.’
‘A bit like you with having me stay at your place, then? So far, so even.’
I smiled up at him, accepting the comparison.
‘Admittedly, I wasn’t really thrilled at the prospect initially, but as it’s turned out, I’ve been glad.’
‘Really?’ A wide smile spread across Jack’s face.
‘Really,’ I confirmed. ‘Without you staying, I wouldn’t have felt so comfortable with you, and I know we’ve had our disagreements, but I’ve talked to you more than anybody in years. Between you and Clive, I’ve begun to see what I was missing.’
‘I’m glad. I know none of this has been easy for you, and I know it’s not a quick fix. I don’t expect you to be flashing a chock-full social diary by tomorrow night, but you’re taking steps, and that’s what matters. You have too much to offer the world to hide from it.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, not sure what else to say, but deciding that that was probably enough.
‘I’m surprised you haven’t asked me if I enjoyed the film.’
‘I know. Part of me wants to and part of me doesn’t want to know in case you didn’t like it but would then feel you have to say you liked it for fear of upsetting me.’
‘I thought you knew by now I’m not very good at saying things for effect,’ Jack said. ‘If you can’t be honest with someone, then what’s the point? Of course, one should always be tactful, but…’ He shrugged to punctuate the point, then tilted his head. ‘And now you’re studying me as though I’m a very rare specimen. What’s going through that brain of yours now?’
To be honest, there was a lot going through my brain, or rather being washed around by several glasses of expensive champagne. One of the thoughts was that I was staring at one of the best-looking men I’d ever met. The truth was I liked this new Jack, not just because he was jaw-droppingly handsome, but because he was kind and thoughtful and also because he challenged me. He didn’t pander and he certainly didn’t take any bullshit.
‘I was wondering if you might like to dance?’
A dance floor had been set up in one part of the venue, and it was already beginning to get quite crowded as a DJ, apparently someone extremely well-known but whose name meant nothing to me, was seamlessly mixing one track into another.
‘Somehow, I don’t believe that was the only thing you were thinking, but yes, I would like to dance,’ he said, taking a step closer to me. ‘Very much so.’
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d danced in public. Normally, I kept my moves to myself, although I now shared them with Clive as I prepared dinner or baked in the kitchen. But here I was, at an after-party of a major film premiere, dancing among faces I recognised from the big and small screen and opposite Jack Coulsdon-Hart. When I made a change, I certainly didn’t do it by halves.
As the music shifted to a slower pace, various couples paired up, some of which surprised me, but I did my best not to show it.
‘May I have this dance?’ Jack asked.
I looked up into the handsome face that now had a hint of seriousness about it and realised he was unsure of my answer. A few months ago, I would have politely turned him down. But now I didn’t want to.
I nodded in acceptance and felt my body fizz with excitement as one strong arm slipped around my waist pulling me closer, and the other gently took my hand. He led confidently and skilfully, and as one song merged into another there was a brief question in his eyes. I held myself just that little bit closer to him as an answer and we continued the dance. The music was loud and whenever Jack wanted to speak to me, he had to bend until his lips almost brushed my ear to make himself heard. Every time he did, a fresh wave of excitement rushed through my body in a way that it hadn’t done in over a decade.
It was nearly three o’clock in the morning by the time we’d done our rounds of goodbyes, practically falling into the limousine waiting to take us to the hotel, which thankfully wasn’t far. The doorman opened the car door, but it was Jack who helped me from the limo and offered me his arm as we walked into the hotel foyer, a shining confection of white marble, crystal chandeliers and subtle gold accents. I was grateful of his strong body next to me, due to both the heels and the copious amounts of champagne I had imbibed during the evening, but also because it felt nice. Walking in tonight, in fact the whole evening spent with Jack just feltrightbut I wasn’t ready to acknowledge that, let alone accept it.
The hotel receptionist handed over our key cards, explaining that our luggage had already been taken up earlier, having been dropped off by the driver. She then explained that breakfast could be taken either in the room or downstairs at the restaurant and advised us of the timings. With that, she wished us a good night, and told us that if there was anything else we required, to just call down for it.
We entered the mirrored lift and made our way up to the correct floor. Sneaking a peek, I was amazed to see that both my make-up and hair were still in place, despite a long evening, a warm atmosphere and more dancing than I’d done in years. It was true testament to the skills of the artists my sister-in-law had kindly arranged for me that their work still looked as good now as it had done hours earlier.
We made our way down a silent corridor, and I suddenly had an overwhelming desire to giggle. Jack noticed my big grin and him putting his finger to his lips just made things worse. Thankfully, the room wasn’t too far, and he held the card against the mechanism, waiting for the click and the green light before pushing it open and allowing me to go in first, following behind and turning the lock. I’d explained our situation to the publisher, and they had assured me that they would arrange either two rooms or a suite for the evening so that Jack and I could each have our own room. As we’d only been given one number, I assumed it was a suite.
I stopped suddenly and Jack almost walked straight into the back of me, halting himself and putting his hand on my upper arms as he did so to steady himself. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘This isn’t a suite.’ I turned to look up at him. ‘They said they’d arranged a suite so that you and I would be separate. This isn’t a suite. This isn’t even a twin.’ I flapped my hand at the large double bed.
‘Does it really matter? It’s not like you and I haven’t shared a bed before and,’ he looked at his watch, ‘it’s literally just for a few hours. I can go down and try and sort something if you prefer, though.’
He pushed a hand through his hair and, with the other one, undid his bow tie so it hung loose on his shirt as he opened the top couple of buttons. He looked shattered, and I knew how he felt. Who knew how long it would take them to sort out another room, if they even had a spare one available?
