Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
I t was surprisingly easy to catch a flight out of Prague, and within five hours of leaving Roman, I was in yet another taxi on my way to head office. London was dark and miserable, matching my mood in every way. When the cab pulled up, it took all my effort to drag myself out of the car and walk into the Vacation Dreamz office.
Tracy’s eyes bulged. “Daisy, what happened? Are you okay?”
Maybe she saw my distress. I probably looked like crap. “Is Bruce in?”
“Yes. But, ummm, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll tell you in a minute.” I strode to Bruce’s office and knocked.
“Come in.”
His eyes also bulged when I stepped through the door. “I’ve been wondering when you’d show up. I cannot believe you deserted your group like that.”
I handed over the letter I’d scrawled while waiting at the Prague airport for my flight to London. “My resignation.”
“What? Why? ”
“My mother has cancer. I have to return to Australia.”
“But what about your tour?”
“Roman can handle them until you send him help. He’s a good man, Bruce. You should look after him.”
“But what about next month?” Bruce shoved his hands through his thinning hair. “We have a full group coming.”
“I’m sorry. But the doctor told me my mother may not have long to live.”
Saying those words aloud was like casting the reality in stone. All of a sudden, there was a new clock ticking in my brain. I had to get to Mother.
“Can you please ensure all my vacation time is paid out? I really enjoyed working for Vacation Dreamz. Thank you.” I turned to stride from his office.
“Wait a minute,” Bruce bellowed. “Your phone. It belongs to us. Hand it over.”
Fuck! I hadn’t thought about that. I plucked my phone from my pocket and handed over my only lifeline to the rest of the world.
At reception, I told Tracy about Mother, and she came around the counter and gave me a hug. “Oh, Luv, I’m so sorry. How old is your mom?”
I blinked at her. “Fifty-four,” I lied. I had no idea how old my mother was. It was just another question in a growing list that I was going to ask her.
If I reached her in time.
I climbed back into the taxi and gave him my address.
By the time I’d reached my flat and had the harrowing conversation with Edna and Dave about my mother and my need to leave earlier than planned, I crawled into bed utterly exhausted.
The following days were a whirlwind. Top of my list was going to the closest phone shop and purchasing the cheapest one possible and buying a prepaid card .
I walked to the nearest park, sat on a bench seat overlooking a row of enormous oak trees, and rang the only phone number I’d ever memorized. Zali’s. “Hey, Zali, I’ve got a new phone.” I sounded about as gloomy as a funeral director.
“Oh, boy. Sounds like this’s gonna be interesting. Are you okay?”
“I quit my job and I’m going to Mother.” I blurted it out like a painful sneeze. “Oh, and I, I . . .” I fought the brick on my chest. “I left Roman.”
“Okay, slow down. First things first. Roman, what happened?”
I told her everything about our night at the cocktail bar and him getting drunk. “He asked me into his bed.”
“Oh, dear.”
“We didn’t have sex. It’s worse.”
“Worse?”
“He said he loved me.” Even saying it made me feel numb. And dumb. It was so ridiculous it was laughable. I started giggling. My giggling became full-blown laughter. Soon, I was laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe.
“Okay . . .” Zali said. “Hysterical laughter is one way of processing it.”
“Sorry.” I wiped tears from my eyes. “It’s just so stupid. I can’t believe it.”
“So, what happened?”
I told her about Roman and I spending the night, and how crazy good I’d felt. Then I said, “But when he woke in the morning and saw me, it was like I was a leper. He freaked out.”
“Asshole.”
“Yeah. He said he didn’t remember anything.”
After I explained what happened when I’d seen Roman again at the bus, I told her I’d come to the decision to quit work and go to Mother.
“Oh jeez, Daisy. That sounds like a shit plan. Why don’t you just whoop it up in Europe instead? While you have a chance?”
A plane in the sky, flying beneath the dark clouds, caught my eye. It was a sign. Despite all my dark emotions clouding my thoughts that slammed from Mother to Roman, it was time for me to go. “I have to see Mother. I have a shitload of questions I need answered.” Just thinking of how angry she made me spiked my voice with fury.
“Oooh. Now you’re talking. Oh, I wish I could be there to hear those conversations.”
“I wish you could be there too. It’s going to be interesting.”
We chatted some more. Mostly about her mother, who was still enjoying the raw spaghetti, and Kane, who was still keeping her awake at night.
“Anyway, I’ve gotta get going. I need to pack up my things and sort some stuff out.”
“Okay, babe. I’m here if you need me.”
“Thank you. I’ll call when I get to Sydney.”
“All right. Love ya.”
“Love you too.”
That night, I went to the local pub and had bangers and mash for dinner. I’d been here about six times in nearly three years, and I was pretty sure each time I came, I saw the same patrons sitting in the same seats. I hoped wherever I ended up next, doing whatever it was that I’d do next, that I didn’t fall into that Groundhog Day situation.
The next day, I paid all my bills and closed my bank account, which took way too long. I packed up my things, most of which were items Edna had given to me, so I tried to return them back to her. She took a few but wasn’t interested in the bulk of them. So along with everything else, I either donated the stuff to charity or threw it out.
Finally, I had all my worldly belongings in one suitcase.
My whole world had come down to this.
One suitcase.
One broken heart.
And a mother who wanted to use me one last time.
Three days after leaving Roman, I said goodbye to Edna and Dave with promises to ring them at Christmas, and took a taxi and my suitcase to Heathrow.
Even as I headed to the airport, I still couldn’t decide if I was doing the right thing. Seeing Mother was guaranteed to bring up a mountain of memories I’d been trying to suppress for years. But that wasn’t my biggest issue.
It was whether my aching heart would get over Roman.
Get over him! God, I can’t believe I’m even thinking that.
It was not possible that I was in love. We’d only known each other for three months. And during that time, I’d been with several other guys.
Fuck. Who was I fooling?
Me . The answer was me. I was the fool.
Roman wasn’t into me. He was just being nice.
Leaving him, and Europe, was the best decision I’d made in months.
Before I knew it, I was seated in chair 92A, looking out my window at the miserable London weather. The sky was mirroring my emotions again. Dreadful.
I plucked a few items from my carry-on, preparing to shove it into the gap at my feet. There were some advantages to being small. Having surplus space in an airplane seat was one of them.
I placed the horseshoe-shaped, squishy pillow that I’d paid way too much for at the airport onto my seat. I grabbed my novel—a romantic comedy that promised belly laughs and a happy-ever-after—and shoved it into the webbed pocket behind the seat in front of me.
But when I pulled out my notepad, my heart nearly stopped.
Inside was my list of firsts.
I shoved my carry-on into the footwell and flopped onto my seat. People were still boarding the plane, and I prayed that the seats beside me remained vacant.
Blocking out the screaming baby somewhere ahead of me, I turned to the page with the heading Six Months of Sin and huffed. So much for that. I’d only had three and a half months in the end—about fifteen weeks.
Fifteen weeks! It was hard to believe how much had happened in that time.
I read down my list of twenty-five firsts and savored those moments in my mind all over again. There were so many more firsts that needed to be added to this list. Using my feet, I pulled my backpack up, grabbed a pen from it, and shoved it back into place.
The last one I’d written on my list was:
25) First time I’d spent the night spooning a naked man.
That was ironic. I’d done it for the first time in July with Pierre. I’d probably spooned a man for the last time in my life with Roman three days ago. I shook my head.
Shoving that shit aside, I kept going with my list. I’d done some fun things, lots of fun things, and I wanted to write them down. No, I needed to write them down. If I didn’t, it would be like they’d never happened.
I took my mind back to August and smiling, I wrote:
26) First time I’d been lingerie shopping.
I certainly didn’t plan on making it my last though. I loved how the sexy lace made me feel. No more boulder holders for me.
27) First time buying condoms .
What a waste that had been. I’d thrown the pack out with all my things in London. I hadn’t even used one of them. How ridiculous that I’d bought a bulk pack.
My gut cramped, and acid shot up my throat at my next first.
28) First time I’d had sex with a married man .
And definitely my last. Writing it down made my brain bleed. Fucking Pierre. I hoped that bastard rotted in hell.
Before I took three sleeping tablets and wiped out the next eighteen hours, I moved onto my next first and wrote:
29) First time I’d streaked up a street naked.
A giggle burst from my throat. I still couldn’t believe the only piece of clothing I’d grabbed from the floor was an apron. It was a wonder I hadn’t been arrested. That would have been a first I wouldn’t have wanted on my list either. It would have been as bad as fucking Pierre. Following that thought, I wrote:
30) First time kicking a man in the balls .
Damn, that’d felt good.
From there, I moved on to the fun stuff.
31) First time I ate Brazilian cuisine, churrasco style.
32) First time I danced in a Brazilian nightclub.
That already seemed like months ago.
Oooh . Next stop was Thorsteinn Castle.
33) First orgasm in a hot tub. Make that multiple orgasms. With a count, no less.
In the Swiss Alps, I’d done my?—
34) First mountain hike.
Even though I’d felt like my uterus was about to eject out of my vagina with every step, I’d truly loved that hike. I’d vowed there and then that I’d take every opportunity to do more outdoor stuff like that.
35) First time Roman cooked his fabulous soup for me .
And, of course :
36) First time Roman said good night, sweet dreams.
It was ridiculous that something so simple made my list. But it showed how pathetic my life had been beforehand.
37) First bike ride through Vondelpark with Roman.
That was another thing I was going to do more of—bike rides. Maybe I needed to start a list of things I will be doing from now. Like a bucket list, only it would be things that I could do over and over. Stuff that would make me get out and get my blood pumping, rather than my old life of romance books that promised fairy tale happy endings.
38) First time I’d got stoned. I silently giggled at how much fun that had been.
But my next item squeezed my heart.
39) First time I kissed Roman in the park.
But that hadn’t just been a kiss. It had been a kiss that’d moved mountains for me. It’d been a kiss that had instigated my stupid idea that he may be interested in me.
One of the air hostesses came on the loudspeaker and announced that the doors were closing and went on to detail a few other items of interest for us. I stared at the two empty seats at my side. Holy shit. My wish had been granted.
With that, I continued on to the next item on my list. One that I’d remember forever for all the right reasons.
40) First time I’d had sex on a picnic blanket in the forest.
It hadn’t even been full-blown sex. Just hand jobs. But, oh my lord, it had been incredible. Closing my eyes, I pictured the pearl of semen at the head of Luca’s penis. Now that was smoking hot.
The plane shifted, and out the window, the departure gate slinked away as we retreated from the airport. In one of the giant glass windows stood a man and woman, both holding little children in their arms, and all four of them were waving at our plane, obviously sending off someone they loved. One day I would have that .
One day.
What was my next first? Yes, I know.
41) First time z ip-lining through the Black Forest.
That was another thing I was determined to do again. My mission from now on was to research every place I went to, not just for the historical aspects, but for the extreme sports. Ha! I, Daisy Chayne, was an adrenalin junkie.
Oh yes, and I’d check out more spa facilities. Especially if they were like Vabali. With that thought, I wrote:
42) First sauna.
But definitely not my last.
43) First mud bath.
Hopefully I’d get to do that again, too.
44) First time touching another woman’s tits.
As much as that was fun, I’d be happy if that was my one and only time for that experience. Rebecca, however, would be remembered forever. As would Jonas and his long schlong.
And that was it. My list of firsts. Forty-four things that had changed my life.
The plane started its takeoff. With the increased speed, I slipped back in my seat, and as London whizzed outside my window, I wondered if I’d ever be back.
Before long we’d entered that lovely space above the clouds and there was nothing but blue sky as far as I could see.
Maybe that was what my life was going to be from now on. Nothing but blue sky. And new adventures.
I glanced down at my notepad and realized there was one more first I hadn’t listed.
First time I’d fallen in love.
It was true.
What I’d had with William was child’s play compared to how I felt about Roman. What I felt for Roman was untouchable. The Holy Grail. The glue that kept my heart together. It was true love.
Yet how could it be real when it wasn’t mutual?
I flipped the notebook closed and prayed that by the time I’d reached Sydney, Roman would be out of my brain and my heart.
Yet at the same time, he was in my heart forever. He would always be my first love.
I’m not sure that’s a first I’ll ever be able to recover from.