He nods as I give my long-winded, rambling explanation, but as soon as I stop talking, he blurts, “Can I have you over for dinner tomorrow night?”
“At your place?”
“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to. I can take you somewhere else. I’m an embarrassing regular at several places close to work. But they’re noisy sorts of places. Pubs, mostly. We wouldn’t be able to talk as easily. You know, people playing snooker and arrows and such. Loud music.”
His nervous prattle is adorable.
“I’m not picky. Whatever’s easiest for you.”
He pulls beneath the hotel awning and hits a button to open the trunk. “I’ll pop round at about seven, then, and we’ll see what we’re in the mood for.”
Shyly, I reply, “Okay.”
The moment I’ve been planning for more than a month is nearly here. It’s almost show time. But who would blame me for wanting to delay it just one more night?
32
I thought all I wanted was a bath and a bed, but when I get the second half of my wish, I realize that my mind is unable to shut off. It must have gotten its second wind while I was checking in. So I stare at the punched tin ceiling of my room, my thoughts scattering in a hundred different directions.
I wonder what time Sandberg will be here tomorrow.
Is it going to be weird to be alone with Jude in his apartment after all these months?
How is he going to react to what I tell him? How am I even going to broach the subject?
I hope the London office has all the office supplies I’ll need to get Talia set up on Monday.
I’m not in the United States right now. I’m on a completely different continent.
This room smells funny.
I wonder where I can get a newspaper in the morning to look for a place to “live” here when I’m not traveling. Maybe I should wait until after I tell Jude everything. Maybe I’ll decide to set up my home base in another town, if it doesn’t go well. Or another country. Scotland? Ireland?
Maybe Snow Patrol needs another roadie. Or an administrative assistant.
These sheets are itchy. Bedbugs?
That idea has me on my feet, pulling back the covers and inspecting the linens at close range. Nothing.
Back in bed, I quickly return to my runaway thoughts.
What if I can’t figure out how to use the coffee maker here? I wonder if it’s very different than the ones back home.
This is home now. Doesn’t feel like it. I miss my bed. I hope Lisa’s stepdaughter’s enjoying it. Is she sleeping in it right now? I do the math on my fingers. Probably.
Is Sandberg okay? What’s he doing right now?
Jude’s going to hate me after I tell him.
No, he’s understanding. He’ll forgive me.
Nobody’s that understanding.
It’s not my fault. Really. Can’t we just skip the distasteful revelation and go straight to the making-up part?
What if there’s no making up?
Ohohohohoh… Breathe. If that’s the case, I hear there are lots of pubs in this region and no shortage of alcohol.
What if he’s still mad at me about the Leslie thing on Monday, then he falls in love at first sight with Talia?
What if he’s over me? He was pretty cool at the airport.
He came to pick me up, though, even after I told him it wasn’t necessary. And he was babbling in the car a little, like he was nervous.
So? He could be nervous because he thinks I might still have feelings for him, but he doesn’t feel the same way anymore.
Maybe he’s thinking right now about how to best tell me that he’s met someone new.
Maybe he’ll be introducing me to her at dinner…
Gaaaaaaaa!!!
By 6 a.m., I give up trying to sleep and turn on the TV in my room. The early morning news is on, but I can’t keep up with the speed at which the presenters speak. I was afraid of this. I knew I’d be lost here. I knew I’d stick out like a sore thumb, the obvious foreigner, clueless and ignorant, bumbling around, not knowing what she’s doing. And trying to operate on no sleep, to boot.
To be fair, it’s only midnight in my mind. But that means when Jude stops by this evening to get me, it’ll be 1 p.m. to me, and I won’t have had any sleep.
Well, don’t panic. I decide to try to sleep again in a couple of hours. I still have plenty of time to get in some rest. This is exactly why I took today and tomorrow off. As soon as the excitement wears off, I’ll crash. My circadian rhythms will kick in. It’ll be fine.
I was just dozing off when the pet relocation service came by to deliver Sandberg, who then spent the entire afternoon ignoring me. And when I finally decided to stop trying to get back in his good graces and take a nap, he decided he wanted to play. Now it’s 6:30, Jude will be here within the hour, and I can hardly keep my eyes open.
I’ve tried jogging in place, sticking my face in the mini-fridge, and drinking several cups of coffee. But I’ve hit the wall. For good.
Or not.
I was worried about not being able to adjust to such a big time change, so I bought and packed some mild over-the-counter uppers, the kind popular with cramming college students. Digging them out of my suitcase, I read the instructions and take the recommended dose. Then I go into the bathroom and try to use makeup to hide the outward signs that I haven’t slept in thirty-three hours.
I’m just lamenting the dark circles under my eyes when I hear the knock on the door.
“Frack,” I mutter, quickly blotting the green concealer. “Coming!”
When I open the door, Jude smiles charmingly at me. “Cheers. I’m a bit early. I hope that’s not a problem.”
“Not at all,” I reassure him. “Sandberg and I were just resting.”
“Jet lagged?” he asks, wincing.
“Me? Nah!” I lie. “Adjusting just fine.”
He peers past
