all the doubts and fears and hurt.
‘Are you happy?’ Alex asks, afterwards.
‘Yes, this is exactly what I dreamed of,’ I say, as we lie together on the floor in front of the fire.
He pours the rest of the wine, and pads into the kitchen to get us something to eat from the hamper.
‘Bring it all,’ I call through, ‘I’m starving.’
‘Let me at least put it on a plate, you heathen.’ He laughs, and I hear him unwrapping the contents, no doubt inspecting every jar, scrutinising every ounce of pâté.
That’s my Alex, I think – and like how it sounds – my Alex.
Knowing he’ll be a while, I idly check my phone, to see if there’s any news about Chloe, but I’m irritated to see loads of missed calls and messages from bloody Jas. Even she wouldn’t usually call so much when I’m away, especially on a supposedly romantic weekend. Perhaps, as I haven’t got back to her, she’s worried Alex might have told me about her trying to kiss him. She’s probably panicking that I’ve finally realised what she’s up to. I open the latest message – which has an attachment.
Please tell me you’re okay? Text me. I’m worried. I just found this – remember the night we got your profile on to the app? We were in the wine bar, we took selfies? Well, look at this one.
Puzzled, I open up the attachment, and see me and Jas leering into the camera, all lip gloss and cocktails. At first, I think she’s simply sending the pic to remind me of some of the good times we’ve had as friends. I wonder if it’s damage limitation in case Alex has told me she tried to get off with him. But looking again, I see she’s put a red ring around something in the background – and the closer I look, the more unbelievable it is.
Alex, the man I wouldn’t even go on a first date with until several weeks after the photo was taken, is standing behind us – and he’s looking straight at me.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I look at the photo again and again, completely freaked out. I instinctively know to keep this to myself for now, but Alex is calling to me about ‘the deli feast’ being almost ready, so I tell him I’m popping to the bathroom, where I lock the door and text Jas back.
WTF? Why was he there? I don’t get it.
I wait for her response.
I Know! Weird. Looks like he was stalking you before your first date? Soooo creepy. Are u ok?
I’m about to text back, but where do I start? I don’t know what this means, but I know the bubble has definitely been burst now. Another text comes through from Jas.
Do u want me to call the police? she texts.
NO! All fine I’m sure. It’s not a crime to photo bomb. But will ask him about it.
I don’t believe it’s all fine, I just want to stop her worrying so she’ll stop texting and I can think. Could it be a coincidence that he was there that night?
‘Hannah? Where are you, darling?’ I jump at Alex’s voice. He’s standing outside the bathroom, I can hear his hand brushing up and down the door.
I flush the toilet, turn my phone on silent and put it in my jeans pocket.
‘Be with you in a minute, Alex,’ I call, unsure of how I feel, unsure who to trust.
I run the taps to buy more time, and see his toilet bag on the side, the one that used to have Helen’s scribbled photo hidden inside. I don’t know why, but I feel down the side of the bag to see if it’s still there, but my fingers touch something else, something cloth. I slowly pull it from the inside pocket where it’s hidden, and hold it in my hand. It’s a napkin. But not any napkin, I recognise the lipstick – it’s my napkin from our first date, the one I saw him put in his pocket as we left the restaurant. I feel further down into the bag, and there’s the coffee spoon, my coffee spoon. Are these mementos – just reminders of a wonderful evening, or something else? I can almost hear Jas’s voice, ‘He’s a serial killer and those are his trophies. GET OUT NOW!’
I am terrified, but know I have to come out of the bathroom, so I compose myself, and try to wander casually into the living room. The fire’s still blazing, my