Page 24 of Hidden Gem
Jason drained his teacup, sighing out loud. Exhaustion spun his brain in an endless loop of what-ifs. What if the magic wore off? What if it had nothing to do with Beatrice? Maybe he just needed a woman, any woman, by his side. What if Luna could help him sleep, just like Beatrice? She was here, available, contactable. He didn’t feel the same primal pull to her he’d felt with Beatrice, quite the opposite, but did it matter? Lightning didn’t strike twice, but maybe he could manufacture his own magic.
Darkness compressing his lungs, Jason took his phone and composed a short, simple text.
You forgot to write down Beatrice’s details. Maybe you can send them via text? Jason.
The reply came almost instantly.
Maybe we can meet for drinks tomorrow? I promise to give you what you need ;)
Jason recoiled. What was he doing? Surely there was another way to find Beatrice without getting sucked into this woman’s games. Tracy had promised to doublecheck the guest list. Beatrice had been at the party. She existed. More than that, she did something funny to him. It wasn’t just about the sleep. For a moment, he’d been happy. At peace. What if she was the one? When had he stopped believing in love at first sight and settling for whoever gave him a phone number? Pathetic. Sure, he was lonely, bone-tired and desperate. But still, pathetic.
Jason stared at the phone screen, trying to breathe away the invasive thoughts. Focus on the present. Calm down. If merely texting with this woman gave him nausea, he’d be wise to steer clear of her.
Sorry, can’t make it tomorrow.
It had a vague ring of avoidance. Seeing he wasn’t that keen, Luna might move on and forget all about it.
After a moment, his phone beeped again.
I don’t mind waiting.
Jason placed his phone on the table, cold sweat chilling his neck. She probably meant to sound flirtatious, but her words came off as ominous.
Jason got up to make another cup of tea, knowing that no amount of chamomile would make a dent on the swell of anxiety in his chest.
Why had he sent that text, when all he wanted was to curl up next to Beatrice, or whatever her real name was, and inhale her sweet scent while his pulse settled to a normal rhythm? Just thinking about her helped, he noted. The memory of Beatrice soothed him like a weighted blanket.
Chapter 12
Marnie approached herown front door with trepidation. Early afternoon light made her shield her eyes, but there was a nip in the air. The drive from her hideaway in Paraparaumu had felt endless, yet she wasn’t ready for this. She’d meant to come back from her trip with a new perspective, acceptance, or at least a smidgen of clarity. Instead, her head ached with confusion.
After the dream-like Wellington experience, she’d returned to her remote Airbnb and worked on her novel for the rest of the week, checking her phone every fifteen minutes. It never rang. Shasa had texted her a couple of times to check how she was doing, and Tanya once, begging for McDonalds from Uber Eats. Fighting the urge to submit, Marnie had sent her daughter the healthiest McSalad she could find and later received a string of angry emojis. But that was it. Not a word from Jason. By the time she’d checked out, the heavy realisation finally sank in: he didn’t want to see her again.
At least the experience had fuelled her writing. The hero of her next novel was getting more and more like a certain politician she couldn’t stop googling about. He might not have been interested in her, but she had pored over stories about him – every interview, video clip and photo she could find. If she called it book research, it sounded better in her head.
“You’re home!”
