At one point it was all he could do to stop her getting naked baby pictures out of her purse and showing everyone ‘what a beautiful baby he was. It was unbelievable!’
And then, before you know it, it’s late and we’re saying our goodbyes. Nate and I catch a cab back to his, even though my apartment is within walking distance, but like he says, why stay in my tiny shared apartment when we’ve got his penthouse all to ourselves? This way, it’s just us.
Plus about a million packing boxes, I note, stepping out of the elevator and coming face to faˆing heiy p…ce with another huge one that’s just been delivered. I swear as soon as he unpacks one, another appears.
‘Oh good, it’s arrived,’ he says.
‘What on earth’s in it?’ I gasp, squeezing past the large cardboard monolith that’s wedged in the hallway.
‘My elliptical,’ he says, as if I should know what an elliptical is.
And of course I do. Sort of. Not.
‘Oh, right.’ I nod breezily. ‘Great.’
Putting his keys and phone on the table, he takes off his jacket and hangs it over the back of a chair. Meanwhile I slide off my shoes and rub my sore feet. Normally at this point we’d be ripping each other’s clothes off, but I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day.
‘Sleepy?’ Nate catches me rubbing my eyes.
‘Um . . . just a little bit.’ I smile and stifle a yawn.
Well, I don’t want to put him off completely, do I? Who knows, I might get my second wind in a minute. Nate seems to have that effect on me. This past week I’ve practically turned into a nymphomaniac.
Pulling off my dress, I pad into the bathroom in my underwear to brush my teeth. A few seconds later Nate joins me in the bathroom in his boxer shorts, and for a moment we stand side by side brushing. Like a proper couple, I think, feeling a beat of contentment as I look at us reflected in the mirror above the sink.
Which is when I notice Nate’s boxer shorts reflected back at me.
No, surely not . . .
Until now I’ve been so busy ripping them off that I haven’t given them a second glance, but now I do.
And they have pineapples on them.
‘They’re not pineapples, they’re guavas,’ he corrects, when I tease him about them.
‘Where did you get them?’ I ask, giggling.
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugs, rinsing out. ‘Beth bought them for me.’
I feel a sting. Beth is Nate’s ex-wife.
‘She bought you novelty boxer shorts?’ I say, all jokingly, but my voice comes out a bit higher than usual. I don’t know which is more horrifying – that his wife bought them or that he’s {€or that ›e’swearing them.
‘She bought all my clothes. She took care of that stuff.’ Rinsing, he wipes his face on a towel and starts removing his contact lenses.
‘Well, I think it’s about time you bought some new ones,’ I suggest, trying to sound light and breezy while plotting how to get rid of the ones he’s wearing. ‘What about some nice Calvin Klein’s?’
‘Why? These are comfy,’ he grumbles.
Sliding my arm round his waist, I nuzzle the back of his neck. ‘You’d look really sexy in a pair of Calvin’s,’ I murmur suggestively.
‘What’s wrong with these?’
‘Nate, they have cartoon pineapples on them.’
‘Guavas,’ he corrects sulkily, disentangling himself and padding into the bedroom.
I let it drop and finish up in the bathroom, but there’s a distinct change in the mood, and when I climb into bed next to him, he doesn’t wrap his arm round me and pull me towards him, and I don’t snuggle up and rest my head on his chest.
And there’s not even a sniff of sex.
Instead we lie on separate sides of the bed and pretend like everything is normal.
‘I’m really tired. I think I’m going to crash,’ he says after a moment.
‘Me too,’ I say, even though now I’m wide awake.
‘OK, well, night, then.’
‘Night.’
Then he rolls over, turns out the light and the room falls into darkness. And just like that, things don’t feel so perfect any more.
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know I’m being woken by a strange whirring noise.
Uh, what’s that?
Groggily brushing my hair away from face, I tip my head slightly on the pillow to try to hear better.
Whirr, thump. Whirr, thump. Whirr . . .
Where’s it coming from? Muffled and monotonous, it’s like some strange kind of backing track. 4“ akinidthali. 4” akiFor a moment I think