Please, ground, you can open up and swallow me whole now.

He laughs at my waving hands and dismissal of his impending answer. “Despite what you might think, I’m not completely covered in tattoos. They’re carefully placed and all have a meaning and a memory of sorts. Do you have any?”

“Noooooooo,” I say and shake my head vigorously as if my verbal answer isn’t enough. The thought of someone driving needles into my flesh at high speed leaves me feeling queasy.

“You don’t like them?”

“It’s not that. It’s because I’m a baby.”

“What? You? The SAS trained firebird?” he teases.

“Look here, macho man, I’ve watched grown men cry while they’re being tattooed. I’ve seen people pass out and not able to complete the tattoo. I have no desire to inflict pain on myself and walk around with a half-finished mistake on my body.”

“You’re funny,” he laughs. “It doesn’t hurt that much. And if you choose something small for your first one, it wouldn’t take long.”

“No and no.”

“Fair enough. But if you change your mind while you’re here on ‘vacation’.” He uses air quotes and I laugh at him. “You come and see me, yeah?” He slides his card across the table before taking one last gulp of his coffee and getting to his feet. “I gotta go, got a train to catch and a shop to lock up. I’d better make sure no one’s passed out today or has half a tattoo that needs finishing.” He winks and I feel a touch of disappointment that he’s leaving so soon, which in turn makes me feel guilty, again. I’ve got to get over this. Spike isn’t here. Spike doesn’t want me. It’s okay to talk to other men, even to enjoy their company. It isn’t like I kissed him or … “It was nice meeting you, firebird.” He holds out his hand for me to shake.

I stand and place my small hand in his, and he closes his intricately tattooed fingers around mine. The action feels too formal after our easy, friendly conversation. It feels like we’ve known each other a lot longer than an hour, but I also don’t want to hug him. It’s a weird middle ground feeling that makes me feel happy that I’ve met someone like him on my first day here, but oddly reminiscent of what I’ve lost and how it actually feels to be single.

I’m just a single girl, no longer one half of a couple. I’m forcing myself to feel hopeful and free because I have no choice, but in reality, my heart isn’t yet in it; Spike still has it with him in Las Vegas.

After realizing the time, and feeling like all I want to do is sleep, I’ve pushed my stubbornness aside and have decided to take the hotel room that Ari kindly booked for me. It makes no sense to let a perfectly good hotel room go unused. That would just be a kick in the teeth for her and a hassle for me.

I check in at the desk and they hand me a key card for my room.

“You have a studio room, with a view over the river, Miss Miller. The lift is just to the left. If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Thank you.” I wheel my case behind me, heading for the ‘lift’ as they call it here. My feet are getting heavier with every footstep. Jetlag is a bitch.

I navigate corridors lined with plush black carpet and pearlescent white wallpaper, and it doesn’t take long to find my room. But I fight to get the keycard to work, and no matter how many different ways I turn it around, it’s not happening.

“Here, may I?” a voice says from over my shoulder and I jump so hard, I nearly knock the tray right out of his hand.

“Oh, shit. Sorry. You scared the crap out of me.” His composure doesn’t slip, and he just smiles kindly before taking the card out of my hand and unlocking the door with ease.

He steps forward and holds it open, “After you.” He gestures me in with a nod of his head and I study his face for a second before moving. He has a cute baby face, and he smiles genuinely at me. I’m guessing he’s no older than twenty. He has wavy blonde hair that comes over his ears and looks more surfer dude than city boy. If I’m honest, I’m a little pissed off with him for making it look so damn easy to open the door when I was probably making it look a million times harder than it actually was. I really want to stomp past him and slam the door in his face, but that would be very rude of me and I just don’t have the energy to give it away on something as trivial as that just to keep up my bitch card. Thinking about it, I seem to have lost my edge completely today. I’ve given money to a boy that tried to mug me, had coffee and cake with a stranger and now I’ve actually made a conscious decision just to be grateful for a little help from this kid. “You coming in, or would you like me close the door so you can try it again?” he asks, with just a touch of sarcasm in his voice. And this time when he looks at me, he smirks, and I smirk right back.

“What’s your name?”

“Luke.” He glances down at his shiny name badge which clearly states ‘LUKE’ in capital letters.

“I see. Well, thank you, Luke.” I step in, and move aside to make room for him to leave. But he surprises me by closing the door and walking right past me. “Uh, excuse me?”

“Lottie, right? I’ll leave this over here for you.” He places the tray, which holds a bottle in an ice bucket and one champagne flute, on the glass table next to the window. “You get the best view from this room, and there’s a switch for the lights on the balcony just here.” He indicates the switch just behind the curtain. “And if you need anything, call down to reception. There’s no charge to you for the minibar or anything you order, so I would take advantage of that if I were you.” He winks and walks past me again to leave. For once I have nothing to say. I don’t know who he is, what he’s doing here, how he knows to call me Lottie as I’m booked in as Charlotte, or why he’s being so nice to me. I’m beginning to think that Torran must have put something in my coffee as I’m starting to feel a little emotional. “Are you okay?” He frowns and tilts his head.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” I think. “What’s that?” I point at the tray.

“It was requested when your room was booked.” He smiles kindly, making me feel a little more at ease.

“Oh. How do you know my name?”

“It’s on the envelope,” he answers simply. Yep, I need to sleep.

“Oh.” I start to chew on my thumbnail, not really knowing what to say next.

“You say that a lot.”

“What?” I frown at him and he smiles.

“Oh,” he mimics me teasingly.

“Oh, do I?”

He chuckles. “Yes, you do.”

“I’m tired,” I offer as way of explanation to both him and myself. That must be my problem. I need to sleep off this jetlag.

“I’ll leave you to get some rest.”

“Thanks, Luke.”

“You’re welcome.” He nods. He leaves with a kind smile and closes the door quietly behind him. I drop my case on the floor right where I’m standing. I’m so tired, I can’t even be bothered to unpack right now. I want a shower. I want to eat, and I want to sleep. In that order.

I check out the view from my window. Very impressive. The balcony is small, not even big enough to seat a table and chairs out there, but plenty big enough to stand out there and watch the world go by. I bet it’s spectacular at night. When I turn away from the window, I notice the envelope that has my name on it on the tray. I pick it up and peel the flap open slowly. There’s just a small slip of paper in there.

Enjoy your adventure. Stay safe. xx

I lift the bottle out of the ice bucket and see through blurry eyes that it’s Prosecco. Exhaustion and reality hits me at once and instead of trying to be strong and fierce, I let it out. My chest heaves out a burst of noisy sobs, my mascara-blackened tears wet my cheeks in a constant stream that runs off my chin and drops on to the piece of paper in my hand. I’m making my own way, finding out who I am all over again, and although it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and pretty terrifying to a home girl like me, I know I need to do it. I need to go through every emotion before I can start to put the pieces of myself back together. They might not fit back in the order they once were, but I have to believe that life will work out for the best in the end.