Under My Umbrella

Chapter Eleven

I wake up with what feels alarmingly like a hangover for someone who didn’t touch a drop of alcohol last night. Rolling onto my side, I blink and adjust to the sunlight streaming in through the thin curtains. Well, at least it’s not raining.

I pull the covers up over my head with the full intention of going back to sleep. Until I hear the knocking at the door.

It’s probably housekeeping. I sigh and sit up in bed, grabbing a hair tie from the bedside table and taming my bed hair into a ponytail so that I’ll look almost presentable when the cleaner lets herself into my room.

Why didn’t I utilise the do not disturb sign?

There’s a second tap on the door. “Hayley? Are you in there?”

The last time I checked, I wasn’t on first name terms with the cleaner. And she wasn’t male. And she definitely didn’t sound exactly like Rob.

I slide out of bed as quietly as I can and press my ear against the door, trying to listen for any signs that he might not be alone. Hearing nothing, I retreat to the bed.

What does he want? Should I let him in and find out?

I’m almost certain the answer to that question is no. He’s not here with good news, is he? I highly doubt he’s here to tell me he’s called off the wedding and thank me for my genius intervention.  Even though that should definitely have happened by now.

Maybe he’s come to tell me to back off. In which case, answering the door and letting him do that would be an obvious mistake. Without resorting to Facebook stalking tactics, there’s no way I could get near him again after that.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and hold my breath, waiting for him to leave.

Another voice sounds outside the door. A woman this time. Probably Claire.

I can’t imagine that a conversation with both of them would turn out well. Not after I opted for the drunk excuse last night. It’s for the best that I ignore them.

The woman’s voice is followed by the sound of a key in the lock. Shit! How the hell do they have a key?

My eyes dart around the small room, searching for a hiding place and landing on the curtains still drawn across the window. That’ll have to do. I dive behind them like a six-year-old playing hide and seek.

“Hello?” the female voice calls. “Looks like she’s not here.”

That doesn’t sound like Claire.

“It’s okay,” Rob says. “I’ll try later.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, realising that the woman must be the cleaner and shift myself into the corner as much as I can in the hope that she won’t notice me. Somehow, I lose my footing and stumble into the curtain, pulling it down with me as I topple to the ground.

Wow, these really are thin curtains.

I look up to see Rob hovering in the doorway and the cleaning lady staring at me as if I just landed a spaceship in the middle of the room. Lying in a tangle of curtains in a tiny nightdress that barely covers my bum, I suppose I may as well have done.

“Oh. Hi. I was just…um…”

“Hiding behind the curtain?” Rob suggests, his arms are severely folded across his chest and his expression is humourless.

Oh God, he doesn’t even find it funny. Now what do I do?

I pull myself up, tug my nightdress down and try to look for a way out.