Chapter 26
The first mishap on the day of the wedding was the fault of the bad hotel room coffee and a terrible night’s sleep.
Jo sat at the foot of the double bed as the early-morning light slanted through the curtains, careful not to wake Liss, who would sleep for hours yet, the lucky thing – especially now Jo had accepted the inevitable and got out of bed. She’d tossed and turned all night, not quite awake, but not asleep enough to dream properly. Instead, her brain had followed the tracks of all her worries like a miserable rollercoaster, semi-consciously obsessing.
Declan was on the single bed, also still deeply asleep, and if Jo was going to get through today with any semblance of dignity, she needed coffee, and not the crappy stuff in the little sachets that needed to be drowned in condensed milk – also weirdly in sachets – to be palatable.
It was not a morning for instant coffee.
She nearly padded down to the hotel restaurant in her pyjamas, knowing that Mónica’s family wouldn’t be up for hours yet, but the prospect of running into Rita or Ford or any of the handful of people she knew from London was enough for her to grab the first thing she found in her suitcase.
It was the flowing dress from Cadaqués. It was slightly stiff from salt and smelled a bit of the sea, but she pulled it on, telling herself she was just in a hurry and not trying to re-enter her alternate reality that might get her out of attending the wedding – among other benefits.
Closing the clasp on her sandals, she snatched up her purse and grasped the handle of the door, tempering her movements at the last minute to make sure she didn’t wake the kids. But opening the door slowly and silently didn’t make it any better that she found Ben on the other side, his fist raised to knock.
If she’d only managed to sleep late, she might have missed his knock and been able to avoid this conversation.
Her insides flipped and twisted as memories from the night before assailed her: the discomfort in the black bathroom, listening to Mónica’s desperate tone as Jo had realised Ben and Mónica would always stand between her and Adrián. Jumbled amidst those wretched memories were strange and miserable thoughts about the man who stood at her door, his pale hair askew and his brow low.
‘Ben,’ she said quietly in greeting. Brushing past him to close the door behind her so the children wouldn’t hear, she asked, ‘What are you doing here?’ with a sigh of resignation.
He rolled his lip between his teeth in thought and Jo wondered if she’d ever seen him so uncertain – perhaps that time he’d admitted his infidelity. She swallowed a sour taste in her mouth.
‘I’m… can we go for a walk?’
‘It’s the morning of your wedding,’ she pointed out darkly.
‘That’s why it’s so important. Just a walk. It’s so early no one will see us. I hoped you might be up already.’
A thread of misgiving wound around her middle and she should have listened to it. If he was worried about being seen with her, then she shouldn’t go with him. Mónica would be upset – a feeling Jo deeply, wretchedly understood. But at the same time, she should be able to go for a simple walk with her ex-husband, the father of her kids, without his new wife getting angry.
‘I brought coffee,’ Ben added, cocking his head in a way that gave Jo a tingle of nostalgia. His hair flopped over his forehead, even though it was thinner these days. ‘Double shot with just a splash of milk,’ he added.
She was stupidly touched, before perspective rushed in after her moment of weakness. ‘Are you looking for a medal for remembering how your wife of thirteen years drinks her coffee?’ Without waiting to ponder the surprise in his expression, she slipped her coffee out of his hand and headed for the stairwell.
‘Are you… still angry, after all this time?’ he asked as he trailed her to the ground floor.
‘There’s not an easy answer to that,’ she replied. He fell into step beside her. He was taller than Adrián, bulkier too. He’d played cricket at university – an opening batsman. He walked with one hand in the pocket of his jeans and it felt so normal – comforting even – that Jo wanted to panic and maybe throw up. The scent of him teased her nostrils and that too brought back pleasant memories and there truly was something wrong with her.
She expected him to chide her for being angry – as he had when she’d stiltedly tried to explain why she had to leave. But he said, ‘I wasn’t sure if it was normal to still feel something.’
Jo’s hair stood on end. ‘I tried to feel nothing for a long time, but as soon as I stopped…’ Fresh tears pricked behind her eyes and she couldn’t finish the sentence. That was what Adrián had done: he’d made her feel again. And look where it had got her.
‘Do you… I don’t think we can ever go back, but do you think it was a mistake? The therapy? The separation? Marrying me in the first place?’ Ben asked quietly.
She glanced up at him in surprise, coming to a stop where they stood on the beach, a few feet from the rushing waves. Her answer tumbled out before she could stop herself. ‘No. Marrying you was not a mistake.’
‘Does that mean you think this – my second marriage – is a mistake?’ he asked carefully.
‘My opinion doesn’t matter,’ she said softly. ‘Or it shouldn’t, anyway. I only gave you my opinion on our marriage and that’s in the past.’
‘Is it?’ He released a heavy breath. ‘Sometimes I’m not so sure it ever will be.’
God, she knew how that felt.
‘Jo, I… if you still had feelings for me, why did you leave? Why didn’t you talk to me? I was hoping…’ He ran an agitated hand through that swish of hair at the front. ‘I wanted to hear you were completely fine, that Mónica was welcome to me, that I just needed to shake off this feeling that we’re not… done.’
The anguish in his voice was echoed inside her and there was nothing she could do to stop a tear falling – as though she hadn’t shed enough last night. She swiped it away, shaking off Ben’s hand when he grasped her upper arm in concern.
Closure… That’s what he wanted from her. But if she hadn’t been able to grant it to herself, how did he expect her to give it to him?
‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked in a pleading tone. ‘I panicked, worrying that part of me still loves you and?—’
Jo shook her head, needing to stop him. ‘You don’t, Ben,’ she said gently.
‘But I care about your feelings.’
‘That’s not the same as loving someone,’ she pointed out. ‘If you think you can love someone with part of yourself…’ Ouch. Was she talking to him or to herself?
‘Do you think I never loved you? I tried, Jo. I tried everything I could think of!’
‘You tried to keep us together,’ she agreed, her voice reedy. ‘But you didn’t try to work out why we were unhappy.’
‘We weren’t unhappy!’ he insisted. ‘Do you have any idea how much I missed you when you moved out? Did you think I was congratulating myself on being single again? I found Mónica, but it wasn’t easy, if that’s what you think.’
She laughed humourlessly. ‘I don’t imagine it was easy. But we were unhappy.’ She studied him soberly, wondering if she would need to remind him.
‘Because I made one mistake – that you said you forgave me for, by the way – you reduced our whole marriage to unhappiness?’
‘It wasn’t the mistake, Ben,’ she said gently. ‘It was your reasons for it. You knew deep down that we weren’t right.’
‘I knew? You left!’
‘Someone had to have the guts to do it!’ she insisted, her throat scratchy. She imagined with a flash a different kind of alternate reality – one where she and Ben were still married, still going on holidays with Liss and Dec to family resorts with clubs for teenagers and bickering gently.
She’d sign up to do one of the organised activities and Ben would pout about her not wanting to spend time with him and she’d cancel her place, thinking that only retirees actually joined those groups anyway.
Gosh, he’d been so insecure about their relationship. Her first instinct was to wonder what she’d done wrong, but she caught herself. Insecurity stemmed from a lack of trust and she’d never done anything to lose his trust. He was the one who hadn’t granted it.
She thought with a jolt that she’d rather have the heartache and hurt pride of the past five years than that sedated marriage back.
‘What are we supposed to do now?’ Ben asked, his voice agitated. Jo recognised his tone, the passive-aggressive desperation of a man who was used to having all the answers. She didn’t have to respond to that tone any more.
‘Muddle along, admitting we don’t know shit about relationships!’ she said with an unexpected laugh.
‘Have you lost your mind?’
‘No,’ she said lightly. ‘But maybe I need that on a tattoo: “I don’t know shit about relationships”,’ she mused, tapping her bottom lip with her finger. The out-of-control feelings from the past week rose up inside her like a shot of adrenaline.
‘You what?’
‘If you want me to tell you to marry Mónica, then I’ll have to disappoint you.’
‘You think I shouldn’t marry her?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Jo snapped. ‘But you shouldn’t ask. I’ve spent more time avoiding thinking about the two of you than actively thinking about you over the past year. You have to find your own answer and stop relying on me to do the emotional work!’
He drew himself up. ‘But if you think I don’t know shit about relationships, surely I shouldn’t be getting married today.’
She hesitated, her mouth hanging open. The wind whipped her dress around her legs as logic and emotion tussled inside her. The sun was higher in the sky now, sending out golden patterns over the rippling water.
‘I suppose marriage isn’t an expression of certainty.’
‘What else is it?’ Ben said with one of his dismissive snorts. ‘Although I suppose our marriage is a testament to the truth of that statement.’
‘Maybe an expression of hope,’ Jo murmured, undeterred. ‘Like lighting a candle or saying a prayer. It’s an expression of trust – in many things, but mostly the other person. Trust is so much deeper than certainty.’
The horizon blurred as moisture gathered in her eyes again. Like those tears, more words just kept coming.
‘It’s like choosing or performing music.’ She couldn’t help remembering the striking image of Adrián pouring out his passion with a guitar. ‘Being brave enough to stand in front of your partner and ask for acceptance. It’s about faith.’
She’d never had faith in Ben and he hadn’t had faith in her – they hadn’t trusted each other with their deepest needs.
‘Is something wrong? Not about the wedding?’ Ben asked. ‘I think I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you cry.’
She blinked at him. ‘I cried, didn’t I?’ At least there had been times when she’d wanted to.
‘When Liss was born,’ he said. ‘But other than that… I can’t think of an occasion.’
It was a poor time to have landed on the Water Works square – and she’d obviously played too much Monopoly with Dec when he’d gone through that phase. It seemed all she could do was cry.
‘Something’s set me off,’ she admitted, trying to ignore the little voice telling her exactly what – or who – had set her off. Damn him.
‘Are you going to be okay? I really… I know the whole “first wedding” thing must have seemed insulting to you, but I truly didn’t intend it that way.’
‘It’s not to do with the wedding,’ she assured him, her nose tingling. ‘I mean, in some ways it is, but?—’
A sudden thought ripped right through her sentence. Wasn’t it because of the wedding? Hadn’t she said to Adrián that everything was about the wedding right now? Surely she was crying because her ex-husband was getting married that day and everything in her life seemed to be running away from her.
But no. She was frustrated and her pride was pricked, but that wasn’t why she was crying. It was Adrián – just him. She wished she could blame hormones, but that wouldn’t cut it either. What had he done to her?
With a deep sigh, she looked Ben square in the face. ‘Look, if we’re finally being honest with each other, I should probably tell you that I slept with Adrián.’
His eyes bulged and he swayed on his feet as he gaped at her, struggling to form words.
‘Don’t look so shocked,’ she said, admitting to herself that she would have been shocked by this news two weeks ago. ‘These things happen, right?’
‘But not to you. Was it… better than me?’
‘Oh, come on, Ben,’ she groaned. ‘That’s your first question? What do you want me to say? He’s got a tiny penis and no idea what to do with it?’ She struggled to remember if she’d made these irreverent jokes with him during their marriage and wondered how she’d ever stifled them, if she hadn’t. ‘Ask Mónica if you’re so curious.’
He gave an exaggerated grimace. ‘Was it… meaningless, then? Casual?’
It was her turn to open her mouth and then hesitate. ‘No?’ she tried out. ‘Definitely not meaningless, but… I don’t know what it means.’
She’d thought she was being sensible last night – so sensible – and then she’d turned into this blubbering mess. Now she was talking to Ben like an adult – like a friend. Her alternate reality was taking over the real world.
‘Did you plan it all with him then? The problem with the flight?’
She shook her head. ‘It all happened while we were travelling, not before. I wasn’t planning to tell you because I didn’t want to add unnecessary drama to the wedding but…’
‘Where there is Mónica, there is always unnecessary drama,’ Ben said with a twitch of his lips.
Jo paused, staring at him. ‘Do you like the drama?’
He winced as he considered his answer. ‘I… she ran over me like a freight train when we dated. I didn’t think I could handle it, but—’ He gulped, staring out to sea. ‘I don’t know. She woke me up or something and now I won’t say it’s always easy, but I… want the drama. At least when we argue, we feel something.’
There was a twinge of sadness inside Jo at his words, but only a twinge. Mostly, she was fascinated by his bewildered expression, by the idea of him rolled under the freight train that was Mónica’s passion. It was… amusing. Whatever Jo’s emotional wobble had been, it wasn’t vindication or revenge. It was honesty: messy and difficult and occasionally beautiful.
‘I’m happy for you, Ben. I mean it.’ She said the last part for her own benefit. ‘You have all the answers you’re going to get from me. Maybe you should go and find Mónica? You might not be the only one with last-minute doubts.’
‘She wanted to do this big wedding thing right. She said we shouldn’t see each other beforehand.’
‘There is no “right”,’ Jo said gently.
‘What about you? And Adrián?’
‘I don’t know,’ was all she could say. ‘I don’t want to scandalise Mónica’s aunts, so it’ll have to wait until after the wedding.’ When hopefully she would have more courage than she’d shown up until now.
‘I think Mónica’s aunts like being scandalised,’ he said, a full smile stretching on his lips. They must have had lots of good times over the years as well as the bad ones, because that smile was intimately familiar.
Jo shared his laugh. ‘In that case, I should definitely get back before they make up some drama about us.’
When they reached the rainbow dragon playground across from the hotel, he grasped her elbow and squeezed. ‘Thank you,’ he said earnestly, ‘for being here. For not slapping me in the face a hundred times. You’re a strong woman, Jo, and it was an honour to… make some gorgeous kids with you.’ He snorted a laugh at the way that sentence had ended.
‘Did you speak too soon about the slap in the face?’ she quipped with mock censure. ‘But they are gorgeous kids, despite who their dad is.’
His grin widened and he pulled her into a hug. Jo’s arms came around him, a body so familiar and yet… the moment was new. She could bear the touch, enjoy it even. She’d worked something out of her system.
She didn’t know what to do about Adrián – if she was ready for anything. But today was about Ben and Mónica and surviving the wedding. Adrián still had to play his guitar with an injured arm and a whole lot of angst. Thinking about a date when they returned to London felt banal and somehow petty on the day of a grand wedding.
But once there were no more mishaps, would there be anything left between her and Adrián?
She and Ben strode companionably back to the hotel, Jo marvelling at the unexpected twists and turns of the past few days – a labyrinth of emotions. They shared a smile, both not quite believing it had been so easy to talk openly about the past and the present and their tangled lives. Reaching the sliding doors to the hotel foyer, Jo suspected they shared the fresh perspective and a new sense of peace.
And that was when they noticed that all hell had broken loose in the breakfast room.