It Started With... Collection. Miranda Lee
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‘I wonder if Rachel likes white wine,’ he said to himself, and seriously hoped so, because the scenario he’d just pictured in his mind didn’t seem quite so appealing on his own. He would ask her when she got back, and if she did he’d see about having Room Service send up a bottle or two. Then later he’d take her to the swankiest restaurant in the place for dinner. Hotels like this always had at least one à la carte eating establishment.
Rachel deserved a bit of spoiling, he decided, after all she’d been through these past few years.
Justin breathed in the refreshing salt-sea air for thirty seconds longer before returning to the living area and going in search of the coffee-making equipment. It crossed his mind whilst he rummaged around in the cupboards that Rachel was taking a good while. Presumably, the front desk was still busy. Or maybe they couldn’t find another key to this room. He made a mental note to find out what had actually happened. Guy would want to know what he thought of the service. The last thing a new owner needed to do was to have to sack staff then find replacements. Far too expensive and time-consuming an operation.
The electric jug found, Justin filled it and put it on, then set about emptying a small packet of—wow!—quality coffee into each of the two white mugs he’d located. No cheap muck. That was good. Very good. He hated hotels that supplied low-grade products. He’d have to remember to ask Rachel what the shampoo and conditioner were like. He could actually never tell the good from the bad in that department, but a woman would know. Guy was right in that regard.
The water had boiled and Justin was standing there, deciding whether to pour his or wait for Rachel to come back, when there came a knock on the door. He hurried over to answer it, tut-tutting to himself on the way.
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ he said when he wrenched open the door to find Rachel on the other side. ‘They didn’t have another key.’
Rachel just stood there, her face ashen, her eyes anguished, her hands clutched tightly in front of her.
Justin, despite not being the most intuitive male in the world, was quick to appreciate her distressed state.
‘Rachel!’ he exclaimed. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
‘I…I…’
Clearly, she could not go on, her throat making convulsing movements as she struggled for control.
‘Come inside,’ Justin said and, taking her left elbow, steered her quite forcibly into the apartment. Her hands remained clutched tightly in front of her and she looked as if she was going to burst into tears, or faint.
Once Justin had kicked the door shut behind them, he guided her over to the three-seater opposite the television and plonked her down into the middle cushion, then sat on the pine coffee-table, facing her.
‘Rachel,’ he said softly, taking her still clasped hands within his. ‘Tell me what happened?’
She gave a small laugh that held a decided edge of hysteria.
‘What happened?’ she repeated. ‘They didn’t recognise me, that’s what happened. He didn’t recognise me. Can you believe that?’
‘Who’s he?’
‘Eric.’
‘Who’s Eric?’
‘My fiancé,’ she choked out, ‘till I told him I was leaving my job to stay home and mind Lettie.’ She started shaking her head as though still not quite believing the situation she found herself in. ‘I thought I knew why he broke our engagement,’ she went on in shaken tones. ‘I thought he didn’t love me enough, or care enough to support my decision. It never crossed my mind that there might have been another woman in the wings all along, and that I’d given him the perfect excuse to call our wedding off.’
‘What makes you think there was another woman at the time?’
‘Because I’ve just seen the bitch,’ she said, surprising Justin with the unexpected flash of venom. ‘She was downstairs just now, checking in with him.’
‘And she is…?’ Justin probed, knowing it couldn’t be Rachel’s best friend, since she was overseas on her honeymoon. Thank God.
‘The real-estate agent who sold him the fancy unit which was supposed to be our marital home,’ she elaborated bitterly.
‘I see. And are they married now?’
‘No. Living together, I presume from the conversation I overheard at the desk. Either that or they just go away together on what he called weekend junkets associated with her job.’
‘I see,’ Justin said again, trying to think of something to say to pacify her. But he knew how hard that was, when your emotions were involved. ‘Look, you don’t really know he was carrying on with this woman before he left you, Rachel. You’re just jumping to conclusions.’
‘No, I’m not. I know I’m right. I had a feeling about them at the time but I ignored it. I told myself that I was imagining the intimate little looks which used to pass between them, and the many excuses he made to meet up with her at the unit when I was busy at work. Eric’s a top lawyer, you see, and can pretty well come and go as he pleases.’
‘OK. So he’s a two-timing rat as well as a shmuck. What does it matter now? You can’t possibly still be in love with him. Not after…how long ago was it?’
‘Four years, give or take a month.’
‘See? Now, if you’d said a year maybe, or eighteen months…’ like in his case with Mandy ‘…then I’d understand why you’re so upset.’
‘Love doesn’t stop simply because you want it to, Justin. Even if I didn’t love Eric any more, I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t hate seeing him with another woman like that. But I’m doubly upset because neither of them recognised me!’ she finished on a strangled sob.
Sympathy and empathy consumed Justin as he realised what she was saying. Her hurt was not solely because of this Eric’s former betrayal, but because he hadn’t recognised her physically.
Justin understood that type of humiliation well and his heart went out to her.
‘Maybe he wasn’t really looking at you,’ he tried excusing. ‘Maybe he was off in another world.’
‘I wish. But no. He bumped into me when he turned away from the check-in desk. Almost knocked me over. He actually grabbed my shoulders and looked right at me for a second or two. He saw me well enough and there was not a hint of recognition. She didn’t recognise me, either. Though I can’t really blame her. She didn’t know me all that well. We only met a couple of times. And I know I’ve changed