Chapter Fifteen
Henry
I don’t hear from Juliette for two days.
That worries me. After our text message on Christmas Day, and her saying I’m nearly done, I thought the next time I heard from her, it would all be over. But nothing.
I leave it until the twenty-seventh, and then I text her.
Me: How are you doing?
But she doesn’t reply.
I know then that it’s not good news. Something’s happened to stop her leaving. Cam? Almost certainly.
Maybe the guy’s got bigger balls than I thought.
I don’t hear from Philip, either, and although Rangi does text me, they’re monosyllabic messages that nevertheless tell me a lot about the atmosphere at his house.
I spend the days at home alone, and, getting irritated with myself for being morose and for drowning my sorrows in alcohol, I start on a health kick. I stop drinking, put away all the junk food, tell my chef that I only want healthy food from now on, and draw up a fitness plan. I start swimming every morning and evening, and I work out in my gym, too, giving myself a punishing routine that leaves me exhausted and aching.
It’s probably the wrong time to start because I’m about to head to Wellington for Damon’s wedding. But it gives me something to concentrate on.
So the hours pass, as they always do, and eventually it’s Thursday, and it’s time to head for the airport.
I catch an Uber, and when I arrive, I make my way to the private gate, where The Orion—Kia Kaha’s plane—is waiting. Alex is flying Missie up in his helicopter, but Gaby, Tyson, and James are already here. We board the plane, Gaby and Tyson sitting beside each other on one side of the aisle, James and I sitting across the table on the other side.
I’m nervous. I have no idea if Juliette’s even coming still, or whether she’s bringing Cam. I study my phone, my mouth going dry, and then my pulse speeds up as I hear her talking to the flight attendant behind me.
She walks down the aisle, and I look up as she passes me.
“Hey,” she says to nobody in particular.
“Hey, Juliette,” Gaby, Tyson, and James reply.
She slides across into the seat by the window opposite Tyson. Today she’s wearing long, loose, white pants and a white vest with a wave pattern in various shades of orange that suit her light-brown skin. Her hair is pinned up in a bun with a Māori bone comb. A glittery orange bindi sits between her brows.
Making herself comfortable, she puts her purse on the seat next to her, and settles in. Only then does she glance up at me.
She gives me a small, brief smile. Then she looks away, out of the window.
“No Cam?” Gaby asks her.
Juliette doesn’t look at me. “No, his brother is over from the UK, and he decided he wants to spend some time with him.”
Gaby nods and asks her something about the wedding, and the two of them continue to talk. I study my phone, even though I’m not seeing what’s on the screen.
So she’s still with him, then. But he’s not here. What does that mean?
I can’t ask her in front of everyone, though. I can only hope that at some point over the next three days I’ll be able to find an opportunity for a private conversation.
At that moment, there’s another voice behind me, and I see a look of alarm appear on James’s face. It’s Aroha, and, judging by his expression, he wasn’t expecting to see her.
She sits next to me, and I exchange an amused look with him, acknowledging that we’re both in the doghouse. It could have made for a very awkward flight, but to be fair, Aroha is pleasant and obviously keen not to make a fuss. The hour passes quickly, and soon we’re landing in Wellington and making our way to the minivan that’s come to take us to Damon’s parents’ house, Brooklyn Heights. It’s a mansion really, high on top of one of the Wellington hills, an absolutely gorgeous place.
Once we arrive, we make our way to the top terrace where we’re greeted with drinks and food. Everyone’s there, including all the guys from Auckland with their girls, and soon Alex and Missie arrive, and the mood is very jovial.
But Juliette pointedly avoids me, and I don’t get a chance to talk to her.
After lunch, we’re taken to the hotel, and as a group we sign in and make our way up to our rooms. She’s on the same floor as me, but at the other end of the corridor, and she walks away with her case without another word to me. Sighing, I go to my room and let myself in. We don’t have long before we have to leave, so I start getting ready. Today is Belle’s hen party and Damon’s stag night, and there’s a lot to get through, so I do my best to put Juliette to the back of my mind and concentrate on helping Alex—who’s Damon’s best man—to make sure that everything goes to plan.
First of all, we have a paintball game. I’m not great at paintball because I’m so big—I’m easily spotted, and my coveralls are soon covered with multicolored blotches of paint. But we have a great time, and the camaraderie is high as we return to the hotel.
We all go to our rooms to shower and change, and then it’s back to Brooklyn Heights. We’re taken to the lower terrace, which is where the pool is. The girls are on the top terrace having a beauty spa, but they’ll be joining us on the middle terrace later on tonight for a special show. They don’t know yet, but the guys are all performing a song for them, a kind of half-striptease to the Kiwi band Paua of One’s sexy song, I Scream. Alex came up with the idea about a month ago, and since then we’ve secretly come up with a routine for the song, which we’ve all been practicing. Once we have a couple of drinks down us, Alex organizes a couple of trial runs, which leads to much laughter, but is a lot of fun.
We watch a movie—Extraction 2, played on a projector onto a big screen, while we have a barbecue and a swim if we want to, or just lie on the loungers and doze, because we’re all heading toward thirty and getting old. The food is amazing—not just burgers and sausages, but steaks, kebabs, and a huge kingfish, as well as a dozen different salads, coleslaw, and homemade bread. There’s plenty of alcohol, too—beer, whisky, gin, whatever’s your poison. I put aside my fitness plan for a few days, eat what I want, and have a couple of whiskies, although I’m careful not to drink them too quickly, and I have a glass of water in between each one, because it’s going to be a long night.
The sun slips slowly toward the horizon, and it’s nearly set when Alex announces it’s time to start getting ready for the entertainment. He’s already dressed in our ‘costume’—a smart black suit, white shirt, and black bow tie, and while the rest of us get changed into similar attire, he heads up to the middle terrace, where the girls are apparently already seated.
We know he’s begun his comedy routine when we hear laughter and cheers.
“I don’t envy him,” I mumble, a tad anxious about standing up in front of a group of women, even though I know them all.
“He was very nervous,” Damon says, amused, “although you’d never guess. He hides it well.”
We’re all ready now, and I have to admit that we look smart in our matching suits. For the first time since the plane landed, I let my mind linger on Juliette. She’ll be in the audience tonight, watching our routine. How will she react when it’s time for us to choose our partners? Will she accept me? Or will she turn away? I’m anxious about it, but I keep it to myself, and I follow the others as we head up the stairs and wait behind the stage for Alex to finish his routine.
He told us that he was going to remove a piece of clothing if he couldn’t make them laugh. He had confidence in his ability as a comedian, but privately I guessed that the girls would do their best to force him to strip, and that certainly seems to be the case, judging by the cheers. I can hear him teasing Missie, telling her jokes, and we all laugh as he begs her not to make him strip completely.
Then there’s a loud cheer, and a relieved Alex announces, “Luckily, it’s time for the real entertainment. Thank you, ladies, you’ve been a terrific audience.”
Damon grins at us all and says, “Oh well, here we go!” He walks onto the stage, goes up to the mic, and says, “Dude, what the fuck? You were only supposed to tell jokes.”
“They made me do it,” Alex mumbles, pulling his trousers, shirt, and waistcoat on before sitting on the edge of the stage to pull on his socks and shoes. “It’s a feral crowd, I’m telling you.”
While Damon talks to the audience, the rest of us give supportive fist-bumps, then head out onto the stage, forming a line. It’s dark now, with one spotlight on Damon and another on the DJ to the side. A heavy bass beat starts, while colored lasers jump into life.
The song—I Scream—is famous throughout the country, and the girls all cheer as they recognize it. I’m not surprised it earned an Explicit tag. The lyrics are filthy, but they’re perfect for what we’re planning to do.
We start moving to the beat, and Damon moves closer to the mic and says, “Let me hear you scream…”
The girls all scream in response, and he smirks as he begins to sing, telling them how the hot sun is going to melt their ice cream.
As he states that it’s time to strip, we start unbuttoning our jackets, and the girls all scream again. I can see Juliette, sitting a few seats to the right. She’s clapping and cheering with the rest of them, and although I can’t be certain, I’m pretty sure she’s watching me.
We join in and sing with Damon, and I make sure to direct the words at her.
“Take it, take it, take it inside,
Gonna take what I give you, gonna open wide,
Gonna melt on my tongue, gonna taste so sweet,
Girl I’m coming for you, are you coming for me?”
As one, we let our jackets drop and toss them into the audience. The girls scream, and we all laugh as we sing the chorus together.
“Ice cream, you scream, scream for me,
Love every flavor in your recipe,
I wanna lick your chocolate and strawberry,
Ice cream, you scream, scream for me!”
Every time we say the word scream, the girls all do as they’re told.
We strip off our waistcoats, then finally our shirts. And then, as the guitarist goes into a wild break, we jump off the stage and each go up to one of the girls.
I walk up to Juliette and hold out a hand. “You gonna dance with me, baby?” I ask her.
To my relief, she takes my hand and lets me pull her up. I slide my arms around her, and she lifts hers around my neck.
“Lie down baby, and open wide,” I tell her, “Want you to take my ice cream all inside…”
She laughs and looks into my eyes, and I lose myself in her hot gaze, as we dance to the music, our hips swaying together. Her eyes aren’t cold, and they’re still filled with longing.
“I’ve missed you,” she mouths, as it’s almost impossible to talk above the pounding music.
“I’ve missed you too.” I smile, sliding my hands around to her butt and naughtily giving it a quick squeeze.
She giggles, still moving with me, and I want to do more—I want to kiss her, and stroke her, but the guys are heading back to the stage, so I release her reluctantly and join them, where we sing to the final part of the song.
The girls cheer, and we all take a bow, relieved and disappointed in equal measure that it’s over. But immediately the DJ starts playing another song. It’s Nine Inch Nails’ Closer, and so we shrug on our shirts and head back down to the girls.
I dance with Juliette for a few songs, and then Alex declares we should all change partners. I’m disappointed, but it’s all in good fun, so I dance with Aroha, and Missie, and Huxley’s wife Elizabeth, and Mack’s wife Sidnie, and all the others, to old and new songs.
I see Juliette from time to time during the evening, but there’s no chance to talk. It’s two a.m. before people start heading off. We all say goodbye and get into two minivans, but I discover that Juliette is in the other one. We seem destined not to be together.
When we arrive at the hotel where most of the guests are staying, we crowd into the elevators, then get out at our floors.
I see Juliette coming out of the other elevator. She glances at me, gives a small smile, then turns away and continues talking to Aroha as they head along the corridor in the other direction.
I turn and look at James, who purses his lips. “Sucks being single,” he says.
Aroha revealed at lunch today that he fell asleep on her when they were making out after the trivia night. I could tease him about it, but I’m hardly in a position to make fun of him for being single.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “Goodnight.”
“The van’s picking us up at 2:30 p.m., right?”
“Yeah.” It’s the wedding rehearsal tomorrow, followed by a buffet dinner and more partying.
“Okay, see you then,” James says, and he goes into his room.
I walk to the next one, wave my key card over the front, and go inside.
I toss the key card onto the table and walk into the room. It’s a standard hotel room, with a king-size bed in the middle, a sofa and a chair, a widescreen TV, and an ensuite bathroom. I could have paid to upgrade to one of the suites on the top floor, but everyone else is staying on this floor, and besides we’re not spending much time in our rooms, so I was happy to stay here.
After the excitement and buzz of the evening, I feel oddly flat. I’ve drunk more than I intended; it was impossible not to when Huxley was constantly topping up our glasses when we weren’t looking. So I’m feeling low because I’m tired, as well as because I didn’t get a chance to talk to Juliette. I’m still none the wiser about what’s been happening in her life. Maybe I should have demanded she come with me at the Heights so I could take her off somewhere quiet, but that’s not my way.
I remove my jacket, waistcoat, shoes, and socks, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and drink a third of it in one go. I sit on the sofa for a moment, intending to check my emails and social media for five minutes before I go to bed.
I’ve just opened Instagram and I’m smiling at a photo that Mae Chevalier has posted of Damon standing on the stage singing when there’s a knock at the door.
Eyebrows rising, and wondering whether James has decided he needs a drinking partner, I go over to the door and open it.
It’s Juliette.
My eyes widen. “Hey!”
She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue and glances nervously over her shoulder. She doesn’t want to be seen. “Can I come in?”
“Of course.” I move back, opening the door. She slips past me, eyes downcast, and walks into the room.
Heart pounding, I close the door behind her, then follow her in.
She walks past the bed, glancing at it briefly, then stands in front of the sofa. She wraps her arms around her middle—a defensive stance, her shoulders hunched. This evening she’s wearing a long, light-gray dress that sparkles in the light. Her eyelids also sparkle with glittery eyeshadow.
I rest my butt on the desk that stands against the wall. “Are you okay?”
She gives a short nod.
“You want a drink? Wine? Coffee?”
She shakes her head. “I know we didn’t get time to talk today, and I felt I owed you an explanation for why I haven’t messaged over the last few days.”
“Okay.”
She lifts her gaze to mine then. “On Boxing Day, when we got back from Cam’s parents’ place… I told him about us.”
I stare at her. I had not expected her to say that.
“Shit,” I say.
Her lips curve up, just a little.
“What did he say?” I ask, my whisky-addled mind trying to run through a thousand different options.
“He said I’d broken his heart.” Her lips twist. “He was absolutely gutted, as I knew he’d be of course. I… I thought he’d go ballistic. Scream and shout at me. Call me names. Probably walk out. But he didn’t. He… he cried.”
Oh fuck. The clever, clever bastard.
“He said he didn’t want to lose me. And that I shouldn’t throw away the seven years we’ve spent working our relationship for my one night with you.”
I fold my arms and don’t say anything.
“He said he wasn’t going to let you steal me away from him. And that he was going to fight for me.” She stops and swallows hard.
Fuck, shit, wank, bollocks, cunt, arse. That motherfucker, gaslighting her into believing they have a golden relationship, and I’m out to ruin it.
“Right,” I say.
“He begged me to stay. To talk to him about what needed to change.”
“Which I’m guessing you did.”
“I was very confused. So yes, I stayed. And we talked, almost non-stop, for two days.”
She falls quiet for a moment.
“Did you sleep with him?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
The tight hand that had gripped my heart releases it, and I exhale. Still, I’m not out of the woods yet. “And? Have you come here to tell me this is it?”
“No,” she says. “We talked, and we talked, and we talked. About everything. We were totally honest. And I think, if one thing had been different, we might have been able to make it work.”
“What was the one thing?”
“It was you, Henry,” she says softly. “Over those two days, it became clear to me. I didn’t sleep with you to punish Cam. Or because I was sad, or lonely. I’m sure those things played a part in it. But that wasn’t the reason.”
She moves closer to me and looks me in the eyes. “I went to bed with you because I wanted you. I’ve wanted you for years, since the first time we met. I’ve pretended I haven’t, because you were with Shaz, and I was with Cam, and I thought it wasn’t meant to be. But I couldn’t deny it any longer. And I told him the truth—that I’m in love with you, and I want to be with you.”
I release the breath in a whoosh. My heart’s thundering. I want to dance, cheer, sweep her up in my arms.
But something doesn’t feel right. Why hasn’t she called me? And why does it feel as if storm clouds are still circling over our heads?
“This morning, I told him I wanted to go to the wedding on my own,” she says. “I said we needed time apart. He was really upset about it. He cried, again. Begged me to stay. He actually got down on his fucking knees.” For the first time, anger flares in her eyes. She didn’t like that. “But his brothers are still here, and I said he should spend some time with them, because we both need to think about what we want. He said he knows what he wants, but he agreed to give me space if I would agree to talk again when I get back.”
She hesitates. “He wanted me to promise that I wouldn’t talk to you. I refused. I said you were a friend and I wasn’t going to ignore you. He got angry and said I was being unfair, because we needed to take you out of the equation. And I said I couldn’t do that. I kept thinking about an image I had in my mind on Christmas Day, that when a building has been so badly damaged, you have to destroy it, right down to its foundations, so you can rebuild it again. I know I’ve got to do it. I’ve got to destroy that relationship so I can start again with you.” Her bottom lip trembles. “But he’s making it so hard for me. I thought when I told him about us it would all be over, but he keeps tugging on my heartstrings, and telling me that what we have is worth fighting for… And I just feel so incredibly, heartbreakingly sad…”
My brow furrows, because I remember how it felt when Shaz and I decided it was finally over. Even though it’s a relief, it’s so, so hard to believe the person you dedicated your life to is no longer going to be yours. You feel as if it’s all been a massive waste of time. You tell yourself repeatedly that it could work if only you tried harder, loved each other that little bit more. I can see the torment Juliette’s going through, and my heart aches for her. How can I get angry when she’s obviously trying so hard to end it?
“I’m so confused,” she whispers. “Everything’s going around and around in my head, until I can’t decide what to do or what I want. And I know it’s unfair to you, and I’m so sorry…”
We stand there like that for a moment. And I realize I can react in two ways.
The first way is to tell her I understand, and that I’m going to give her time to think about it, and come to the decision at her own pace. To be humble and considerate, kind and gentle, tender and supportive, and just hope it all works out.
That hasn’t worked well for me so far.
Or I can do it the other way.
Fuck it. Carpe diem, right?