I was lost in deep thought as the scarlet red Formula One car drove past me at high speed. Honestly, I am shocked and cannot comprehend the situation. The last couple of days have been a rollercoaster and my gut tells me, it is only the approach before the drop. A rollercoaster like the Fenix in Toverland. My eyes shift to the pit lane, however, I fail to take in what is happening since I am still deep in thought. I think back at the past seven months and somehow a gulf of emotions wash over me. The death of my mother, the verbal abuse of my father, becoming an aunt, travelling to Monaco, meeting amazing and sweet human beings, Charles who is fake courting me. I don't notice the wetness forming in my eyes and falling down my cheek, not until someone pulls me back into reality. Not literally, verbally. Of course. "Oh my god, Delilah. Are you okay?" His French-accented voice echoes through my head and my eyes meet his. I sniff before I feel tears running down my cheeks. I grow conscious of where his hands are. He is currently gripping my upper arms and an anxious expression flashes his eyes. "I am," I sniff, wiping away the tears. His eyebrow knit together and he examines me. He clearly doesn't believe a word I'm saying and honestly, I wouldn't even believe myself. "I really am, Charles," I assure, "I got lost in my thoughts and past events got the better hand of me. Both positive and negative events." His anxious expression fades into a more comfortable look. "Okay." His answer was small but gentle. An urge to bring him comfort engulfs my body. As a result, I lay my hand on his cheek and softly caresses his cheek with my thumb. The corner of his mouth curves into a smile as he lays his hand on my caressing hand. "You can talk to me," he says, placing a kiss on my hand. I arch an eyebrow, which causes him to chuckle. "It is only your hand," he argues gently, "it is nowhere near your lips, ma cherie." A heated feeling creeps up my neck as he said ma cherie. I play it off by playfully rolling my eyes and shaking my head. "I should be almost done and then we can stop by our hotel before dining out?" he suggests. I closely watched his facial expressions as he suggested the following hours. The small creases in his forehead which he thinks were rather adorable. "I think that is a great idea."
About an hour later, Charles drove us to the hotel. He told me about the booking. "I made sure the room has two separate beds," he explained, referring to our rule about beds, "but the site was all in English. So, all I do now is pray that I am in fact not stupid." I reassured him it would be alright, but ... I couldn't convince myself. I made the rule for a reason and I wasn't keen on breaking it the first night we had to spend. The man behind the desk greeted us and gave Charles the card to the room. "Your luggage is already upstairs in your room, and we wish you a warm stay." I can't help but feel a little nervous, praying there would be two beds. Charles guides us to the elevator, and I also notice him being a little nervous. I hook my arm around his and look up, waiting to meet my gaze. When he does, I flash him a smile. He unlocks the door and allows me to walk in first. The tension in my stomach increases as I set foot into the room. I couldn't bring myself to gaze around the room, not before I saw the bed. I look around the room and my eyes fall on a king-size bed. My heart skips a beat as my shoulders slump down. ''And?'' I hear Charles question in the background. I feel his presence behind me, feeling that same disappointment. ''I will sleep on the couch,'' Charles says instantly. I shift my eyes around the room before lingering on a couch way too small for him. ''Let's just see about that,'' I say, definitely not letting him sleep on that couch. ''And let's get settled for a bit. And you should get a shower.'' Charles lets out a chuckle and rolls his eyes. ''Fine,'' he exaggerates, which causes me to chuckle.
I rest on my stomach on the bed while Charles takes a shower. I open messages and send a text to Max.
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