Page 69 of Forever, Maybe
Chapter fifty-two
Joe had ended up in Daniel’s room because Mark, his designated roommate, had pulled and taken the girl back to their shared room. When the issue arose the night before, Daniel, full of drink and drugs bonhomie, offered to share his room instead.
“You gave me the key,” Joe said, holding it up from the cabinet beside the bed. “Mind?”
Daniel stared blankly. No, that part of the night was just as foggy as the rest.
“You were in an awfy state by the end o’ the night,” Joe added, settling back on the bed. “That lassie, the one wi’ the teeth, telt me she was a trainee nurse. So, I thought you’d be safe wi’ her. You said you’d get us back to the hotel, so I left you to it. Soon as I got back here, I crashed out.”
Daniel sank into the scuffed wooden chair by the small table.
The room, marginally better than the one he’d just left, still bore the marks of being well-used and under-loved: a dark green carpet worn thin in places, furniture dinged and scratched, and a lingering smell of stale beer and cigarettes.
The chair creaked under his weight, threatening to give up on him.
“Did ye go back to her room, then?” Joe asked, his tone curious rather than judgmental.
There was no point lying. Daniel nodded, bile rising with every passing moment. All he wanted was to be left alone, though he had the sinking feeling that the second Joe walked out the door, he would dissolve into a sobbing mess.
Joe threw back the duvet and padded across the room to the wardrobe unit, his milk-bottle white legs gleaming in the dim light. He flicked on the travel kettle perched precariously on top of the unit.
“Coffee?” he asked over his shoulder.
Daniel nodded again. He waited until he had a steaming mug in hand before finally asking, “What was I doing wi’ that lassie when you left me?”
Joe took a gulp of his coffee. He had the kind of asbestos mouth that could handle just-boiled liquids like they were room temperature.
“You dinnae remember anything?”
“Not a thing.”
Joe tore into the packet of wrapped biscuits, helping himself to both.
Crumbs scattered onto the carpet as he chewed noisily.
“Last I saw, you were propped against a wall, barely standing, and she was holding you up. You kept going on about how much you loved Nell, and she kept saying how romantic that was.”
Daniel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Thing is… I’ve no idea if I shagged her or not.”
“Did you ask her?”
“Mmm-hmm. She didn’t answer me.”
He set his mug down carefully, his hands trembling. A single tear slid down his nose and dripped onto the floor. His voice cracked as he whispered, “Nell will never forgive me.”
Joe crumpled the biscuit wrapper into a tight ball and lobbed it at the wastepaper bin. It hit the rim and dropped in. “Yes! He shoots, he scores! Did you see that?”
Daniel glared at him.
Joe’s grin faded. “Big man, listen. Honest tae God, I dinnae think you were capable o’ anything last night. The state you were in? No chance you could’ve got it up. Just dinnae say a word tae Nell. What happens in Amsterdam stays in Amsterdam.”
The phrase stuck in Daniel’s throat. It echoed what that guy outside the hotel room had said, and the relief that surged through him felt dirty. No, he hadn’t been in a fit state. He and the trainee nurse had likely passed out. The intent might have been there, but nothing had happened.
Probably.
Yet, if Nell ever drank too much and ended up in bed with a strange man, he knew jealousy would consume him, haunting him with the same question. Would she have shagged someone else if she’d been capable of it?
“Joe, you won’t breathe a word of this—”
Joe held up a hand, biscuit crumbs clinging to his fingers. “Course not. Though, maybe you could see fit tae gieing me a pay rise?”
Daniel froze mid-sip, the hot bitterness of coffee flooding his mouth. He swallowed hard, spluttering slightly. “Eh… I dunno if I can afford that right now.”
They’d recently taken on another shop and the business’s finances were stretched to the limit; hence the budget hotel and flights.
Joe’s mouth twitched. “Naw, nae need! Honest, guvnor. You’ve done an awfy lot for me over the years. I’ve forgotten what happened last night already.”
In the hours, days and weeks that followed, Daniel’s mind worked tirelessly to compartmentalise the night’s events, shoving them into a locked mental drawer and slapping a metaphorical sign on it: DO NOT DISTURB.
Once upon a time, when he still drank, he visited Amsterdam and woke up naked beside a woman who wasn’t his wife.
They hadn’t had sex—he was almost certain—but the shame and panic of that morning clung to him like a stubborn stain.
Determined to ensure nothing like it could ever happen again, he quit drinking.
When Nell asked why, he’d shrugged it off. “Overdid it while I was away. Felt fucking terrible the next day and I never want to experience that again.”
Nell never questioned the decision.
But no matter how tightly he’d locked that night away, it refused to vanish entirely. A tiny, nagging vestige of doubt remained, gnawing at the edges of his resolve.
What if?
What if, in the early hours of an Amsterdam Sunday morning, a trainee nurse hovered above him, her long, dark hair brushing his chest, her hips moving against his, her voice breathless and tinged with disbelief, as she exclaimed repeatedly about how she couldn’t believe her good luck…