A Wedding in the Sun

Chapter 10

Sound normal – normal!

Jo swiped her hair up over her forehead, leaving her hand there to cool her skin, as she connected the call. ‘Hey, sweetie.’ What are you up to? I just made out with a guy I didn’t think I even liked and now I’m quietly freaking out.

‘Mum, I don’t know what’s going on! One of Mónica’s cousins translated a dinner speech for us and apparently this is Dad and Mónica’s first marriage? I thought it was hard for you to get a divorce, but now they’re saying you guys weren’t properly married? What does that even mean for Dec and me?’

Jo’s stomach sank and the kiss was forgotten – an indication of how much her daughter’s words cut right to her scars, that she could immediately stop ruminating about that kiss. The sounds of the party were raucous in the background: delighted voices and clinking cutlery – Spanish mealtimes. Ben’s new family – Ben’s first real in-laws? Although he hadn’t told her about this specifically, a few little details now made more sense to her.

‘We were legally married, Liss,’ she assured her daughter. ‘And legally divorced. I assume what they’re talking about is a Catholic wedding. Your dad and I weren’t married in a church. We had a civil ceremony. In the eyes of the Catholic church, that doesn’t necessarily count. You know how Dad was baptised recently? He converted to Catholicism so he and Mónica could have a church wedding and it will be their first Catholic wedding, I suppose.’

Her gaze flew to Adrián, who stood white-faced, still in the cramped entryway of the hotel room. She wasn’t sure if the pain in his shoulder was bad or if he was as incensed as she was about this loophole that could erase her from Ben’s history.

That she sometimes wished she could erase Ben from her own history was beside the point.

‘How are you so calm about this?’ Liss continued. ‘We were only invited as babysitters and to do the washing up and shell the peas! We’re like the reject children. Mum, what if Dad and Mónica have another child? Can we move to Aruba or something because I’ll never want to see him again in my entire life!’

Jo felt as though her own stomach acids were eating her insides. She hated being an adult in this situation, but it was clear she had to be. ‘I’m not calm on the inside, sweetheart. But we’ll get through it together. I wish I could give you a hug right now.’ She glanced at Adrián again.

‘I wish I was wherever you are and not at this stupid party,’ Liss whined, as though she were five years younger. ‘I just… need to talk. Dad always said that you left, but then why is he able to move on, pretend we don’t exist, while you?—’

Jo’s involuntary choking sound might have tipped off her daughter to the implication of her words. ‘It’s never that simple. When I get there, we’ll take a long walk and find an ice cream bar and talk for hours – not only about this, about everything. I love you so much, sweetheart, and I miss you.’

‘Are you seriously still in France? Dad seemed to think you just decided you didn’t want to come, like you planned this with Oscar’s dad.’

Jo’s anger flared afresh – completely impotent anger because imagining scenes of violence wasn’t her style. ‘I didn’t plan a thing. I know it’s difficult to believe, but all of this stuff happened and now we’re stuck in a hotel room and?—’

‘We?’ Shit, of course Liss wouldn’t miss that little hint.

‘We’re stuck in a hotel,’ she corrected, hating that she was hiding something from Liss but incapable of explaining that she had to monitor him for complications following the anaesthetic without somehow letting slip that this was their third night in a row sharing a room and she was getting used to it. ‘The place is so Ikea. I could be anywhere in the world right now, except I just ate a raclette burger that changed my life.’

And fed a goat’s cheese burger to a sinfully hot man with a smooth beard and a pair of lips she would be dreaming about tonight.

Liss sighed deeply. ‘Do you think you’ll make it here tomorrow?’

‘Even if it costs two thousand euros, I’ll hire a car and head for Spain. Assuming Adrián doesn’t dislocate his other shoulder, we should be there.’

‘Psst! Jo!’

She turned to find Adrián beckoning wildly with his good arm and mused that strapping one arm was like giving him half a muzzle. ‘What?’ she mouthed silently.

‘Oscar! Can she put Oscar on? He’ll still be at the party. We don’t bother putting the children to bed in Spain. He’ll just pass out on the floor later.’

‘Um,’ she began rather stupidly. ‘Liss, I just remembered that Adrián really wanted to talk to Oscar, but Mónica was busy. Do you think you could put him on a video call? I’ll just go knock on the door of his room,’ she said with a wince.

Tiptoeing to the door, she tugged it open and slipped through, discovering the forgotten shopping bag full of clothes outside, where she’d dropped it to grab handfuls of Adrián’s T-shirt and tug his mouth closer to hers.

‘Yeah, okay. I’ve found him. Hey, your dad wants to speak to you.’ Her daughter’s words were a little gruff, but at least she hadn’t made up an insulting nickname for the boy.

‘Papá?’

Jo truly was a mess because that little voice set off a string of emotional fireworks inside her. Oscar was still so small – and Adrián so desperate to check on his son’s wellbeing. Her reluctant comrade opened the door to continue this farce, his gaze hollow and agitated. But when he accepted the phone and peered into the camera, his eyes lit up and a smile stretched on his lips.

She had no idea what he was saying to his son in Spanish as he strode back into the room and flopped onto the bed, but his tone was that soft, rumbly one. He showed off his sling proudly and Oscar’s oohs and aahs tugged a laugh up through Jo’s chest.

‘Does it hurt?’ the little boy asked in English.

‘Nohhhh,’ Adrián insisted, but Jo could tell from the indentation in his forehead that he was putting on a brave face.

He continued to speak in animated Spanish, propping his good arm behind his head and looking so inviting that Jo had to force her gaze away. She came around the beds – carefully, because there wasn’t much room – and stretched out on her own. When they began to run out of words – Jo remembered seven-year-olds were not accomplished conversationalists – she gathered Adrián was instructing Oscar to give the phone back to Liss and she realised she’d never heard him say her daughter’s name. It struck her again how awkward their situation was with the new family about to be created after trampling on their old ones.

‘Te quiero mucho, cari?o,’ he said, his voice rough. Jo ignored the goosebumps that crept up her arms listening to him tell his son he loved him. ‘Uh, hi, Liss. Thank you for that. Do you need to talk some more to your mum?’

‘Is that her behind you, lying on the bed? In your room?’

Jo jerked upright, an agitated hand flying to her hair.

‘We, eh… She’s very tired. She had to hold me down while the paramedics tried to shove my shoulder back in.’

‘Ew.’ Liss was thankfully easily distracted and Jo opened her mouth to ask for the phone back.

But then Adrián continued, ‘Yep, that’s your mum. She’s like superwoman.’

Jo choked before she could get a word out and he chose that moment to plonk the phone back in her hand. Clearing her throat with a hacking cough, she forced a smile and waved at Liss. ‘Love you! See you soon.’

For a moment, she wondered if Liss’s bewildered expression would lead to more awkward questions, but her daughter just shrugged and returned the wave with a grumbled, ‘I love you too.’

After Jo had ended the call, she turned to Adrián. ‘Superwoman? What is wrong with you?’

‘I was just trying to distract her,’ he snapped. ‘And as to what’s wrong with me? My bone separated from my body today and had to be levered back into place while I was on drugs! I’ve lost my most valuable possession and I currently can’t even dress myself without the help of someone who is basically a stranger. Meanwhile my son needs my emotional support, but I can’t seem to get over the fucking border and my wife has decided we were never married!’

He flopped back into the pillows again and slung his good arm over his eyes.

‘I’m sorry, Jo,’ he said after a few breaths. ‘It’s not fair to take it out on you.’

‘Because I’m basically a stranger?’ She couldn’t resist the jibe.

He peered out from under his arm. ‘You said we don’t know each other.’

Heat crept up her chest as she acknowledged his point. ‘I just meant that this feeling that we know each other is artificial. We’re… friends, maybe. Getting stranded together and joining forces – it’s like they say at the end of Speed about tense situations and we’re in the same boat with the wedding. But in everyday life?’ What would we be? She couldn’t bring herself to ask the question out loud. They couldn’t be anything.

‘Are you saying the kiss was so good because it was some kind of revenge against Mónica and Ben?’

‘No!’ she insisted immediately, but then frowned. ‘At least I hope not. But how can anything not be about the wedding right now? You just called Mónica your wife and not your ex.’

His grimace was eloquent. ‘I was just shocked about the Catholic wedding. Dios, her family must be so happy.’ He eyed her. ‘Did you have a big wedding?’

‘It was a long time ago,’ she deflected at first. ‘But yes. I had an enormous frock that was suspiciously like Avril Lavigne’s wedding dress, but she was sensible and got divorced three years later, whereas I faked it for ten years longer than that.’

‘Faked it?’

Her hair stood on end and she hopped off the bed to rummage in the shopping bag for her new underwear. ‘I need to go to sleep. Superwoman needs her rest.’

‘Jo, I know this is none of my business, but… did Ben cheat on you?’

She collapsed back onto the bed, the knickers hanging from her limp hands. ‘Do you really want me to go into this right now? It won’t be pretty.’

‘You don’t have to,’ he backtracked. ‘But I wouldn’t worry about not being pretty. You dressed me like a toddler today and held me while I screamed. I don’t know if you even own any make-up because if you did it’s in your luggage but?—’

‘Great, thanks for that.’

‘I was going to say,’ he paused for emphasis, ‘that you’re pretty anyway, without it. You were pretty with burger sauce on your chin. You were pretty when you scowled at the poor statue of Mary in the grotto and held your scepticism in a death grip.’

‘Aren’t you a bit sceptical now too?’ she asked defensively, ignoring the ripples still flowing under her skin from his words. She wasn’t pretty. She had a few wrinkles and a little grey hair that would be more noticeable if she weren’t blonde. Young women who starred in romcoms were pretty, but she’d starred in life. ‘After the blessing we received from Our Lady, we had bad weather and crashed and ended up even further away from our kids than we started.’

He cocked his head in agreement. ‘I’m toying with the idea that everything happens for a reason.’

‘I suppose missing the party is a positive,’ she said faintly, her brain zeroing in on his nosy question again.

‘I’m glad I… dislocated my shoulder then – for that.’

She eyed him. ‘Don’t say that. Maybe we should have just found a way out of this. They’re not trying to hurt us on purpose. What Mónica told me about trying to integrate the past… she had a point. But it still hurts.’

‘I hope not as badly as a dislocated shoulder,’ he joked gently.

She glanced at him, appreciating that he was giving her an ‘out’, but she also remembered the night before, what he’d told her about the guitar in a defeated tone. He’d asked her a question. She didn’t want to answer it, but she also didn’t want him to wonder.

So she bit her lip and stared at the ceiling as she gathered her thoughts – and what remained of her pride. When she spoke, she was quite satisfied with the lack of emotion in her voice as she said, ‘Yes, Ben cheated on me.’