12. JACK

At 5:00p.m., the London office was still buzzing. However, with my jetlag dragging me under, I decided to head back to the apartment. I went over to Paul’s desk and told him I was heading home and he should do the same. We had accomplished what we set out to do for the day, introducing ourselves and getting to know everyone.

At that time, the streets of Soho were alive with a new, more intense energy, with people leaving work and going off to their evening plans. Pubs were already busy with drinkers spilling out onto the sidewalk, laughing, talking about their days. Men and women drank beer from pint glasses and chattered excitedly. Restaurants were not yet busy, but their doors were open, and people stood outside, reading their menus as white-shirted waiters tried to seduce them to sit down and eat.

Heading up north, in the direction of Oxford Street, Paul and I fell in step together, our footsteps creating a steady rhythm. As we walked, a sense of contentment washed over me. The day had been long and hectic, but there was something comforting about feeling you were on course, doing a good job, and now you were off the clock.

Conversation flowed easily and readily between the two of us. We had lost any distance between us and now chatted like friends.

The next night, we were due to go out with the London office staff, so that night could be a more relaxed, more personal evening for just the two of us. As we crossed Oxford Street and then approached the apartment building on Tottenham Street, I began to wonder what our first evening in London might look like.

“How is the jetlag going, Paul?” I asked.

“You know, just the top layer of my brain has been burned off.”

We both laughed.

“That’s the adrenaline kicking in!” I joked. “But seriously, if you need to crash, say the word. We’ve got plenty of time to explore London.”

He shook his head.

“Thanks, Jack. I appreciate it. But honestly, I’m ready to get to it. Let’s have some fun.”

I laughed and slapped his shoulder.

“That’s the spirit, man! It’s better just to get into the new time zone. We could maybe find a cozy pub.”

He looked at me with a mischievous light in his eyes.

“I know it’s probably corny, but we could eat some fish and chips.”

Suddenly, a surge of excitement passed through me.

“Or we could get some Indian food.”

“Indian?”

I could feel my own enthusiasm.

“Oh, the Indian food here, man. It’s another level. Do you like spicy food?”

His eyes shone.

“Actually, I love it.”

“Let’s go and find a curry place,” I said. “The Brits love Indian food. It’s so great here. You’ll love it.”

***

When we got back to the apartment, we did our own thing for a while. We had already spent twenty-four hours in each other’s company, admittedly almost half of it on a plane.

I said I wanted to shower and went into the bathroom as Paul kicked off his shoes and lay on the double bed to relax.

When I got into the bathroom, I saw how huge the shower was. A glass door opened at the end of the space, but when you looked inside, it wrapped around into a big open void, big enough for three or four people to stand in. A rainforest showerhead, as big as a frying pan, stood at its top. I couldn’t remember whether it had been like that before, or if they had changed it. I had never seen anything quite like it before.

I went back into the bedroom. Paul looked at me from the bed.

“Have you seen the size of this shower, Paul?” I asked, laughing. “It’s enormous.”

We walked in to look at it together, standing at the glass cubicle. Only then did he, too, see its size.

“Wow, it’s massive!” he said.

I laughed, quite loudly, then started to peel off my shirt. I caught Paul’s gaze lingering on my chest and abs. A faint blush crept across his cheeks.

“Oh, shit,” I said. “Sorry, man, I should have waited.”

He shook his head.

“Hey, it’s all good, Jack,” he said.

I grinned at him.

“I’m pretty open about my body. Hope that’s cool with you.”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” he muttered, averting his eyes. “I should get back…”

Just as he was beginning to turn, I said, “Are you still okay for that Indian?” He looked back at me. I started pulling off my trousers, lifting first one foot, then another. “It’s called Dishoom. It’s absolutely amazing.” I stood before him just in my socks and underpants. “Sounds good?”

“Sounds-sounds great, Jack.”And then he turned and left. I took off my underpants and then one sock and another.

Naked, I went to close the bathroom door. Turning back, I turned my attention back to the task at hand, stepping into the vast shower enclosure.

I turned the faucet, and the rainforest overhead shower immediately ran hard and hot. Warm water cascaded over my body, almost too much on my skin. I lathered up the soap and began to sweep the suds over my biceps, shoulders, chest. The water washed away the cares of the day, and I was ready for the night ahead.

Eventually, I was done. Shutting off the faucet and stepping out of the shower cubicle, I reached for one of the thick white towels that were refreshed every day in these places. I dried myself off.

I gathered up my clothes from the tiled floor. Quickly, I retrieved my phone from the pocket of my trousers. I turned the screen toward me and unlocked it, half-expecting to find a message from Emma waiting, but there was nothing.

It was the usual tidal wave of work emails, text notifications from Martine or Harry, each one another reminder of the life that I had built for myself, in part, the reason that Emma was not contacting me.

But then I thought of the conversation I had had with Paul, too. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe sometimes things areover, and you need to look for something new, something that fully satisfies you, even if that is not the easy option.

Gazing into the bathroom mirror, I met my own reflection, the masculine lines of my features etched with determination.

“Get yourself together, Jack,” I murmured to myself. “Just tighten your belly, straighten your back, look to the future.”

I emerged from the bathroom, my skin dry but still hot, with the towel wrapped loosely around my waist. Collecting a fresh shirt, underwear, and socks from my part of the dressing room, I moved into the bedroom.

Through its open doorway, I caught sight of Paul in the living room, sitting on the large velvet couch, focused on scrolling through the mysteries of British TV. A grin tugged at the corners of my lips as I leaned casually against the doorframe.

“Find anything interesting?”

He looked at me. This time, his eyes ran from my feet to my shoulders, then my eyes.

“Uh, not really. Everything seems so polite. I looked at a news channel, and no one was screaming at anyone.”

“Someone said something reasonable, and someone replied with someone reasonable, and no one accused anyone of being a liar or an idiot?”

He nodded.

“Amazing…”

“So, do you fancy going to Dishoom?” I asked.

Paul’s response was immediate.

“Yeah, sounds amazing,” he replied. “Will it be very spicy?”

I laughed.

“Yes!”

He laughed, too.

“Mexican-spicy?”

“Could be even worse.”

His eyes lit up.

“Excellent,” he said but quite softly.

***

I went back into the bedroom and closed the door so that I could dress. After that, Paul said he wanted to shower, too, and as he did, I sat at the dining table in the living room and went through my work emails on my laptop.

I realized I had not got the right shoes to go out, so popped into the dressing room as Paul was still in the bathroom. The faint sound of water thundering in the shower slipped under the closed door.

In my pocket, I could feel my phone buzz: a text. I took it out and saw it was nothing, a reminder about my phone plan. But as my fingers hovered over the screen, I contemplated sending a text to Emma. The familiar urge to reach out to her stayed with me, even as I accepted it was over between us.

I just liked being part of a couple, I guessed. I missed it, now that it was gone.