Chapter 13
‘We’ll see you on the aeroplane beach around five or six?’ I ask, dropping a kiss to Gregory through the window of the rental Porsche.
‘By the aeroplane beach, you realise you mean Maho Beach?’
I scowl. ‘Did you understand what I meant? Then don’t be an arsehole.’
He chuckles as Williams climbs into the passenger seat.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’
‘It’s just a catch up with a business acquaintance, not deal specific. Go. Enjoy your day with Amanda. I’ll see you later. Be careful.’
‘What could possibly go wrong?’ I ask, pulling down my shades to wink over the frame.
‘Have fun in your business meeting boys, we’ll just be, you know, shopping, sunbathing.’ Amanda waves a hand in a way I know will grate on Gregory’s nerves.
‘You be careful with my little man in the sun,’ Williams calls.
‘She and I will be just fine. Aunty Scar will look after us.’ She wraps an arm around my shoulder.
Legal jargon, I know. Baby stuff? I’m clueless.
‘Just the three of us, then,’ I tell her, hugging her back.
Gregory and Williams dropped us on the French side of the island. Shopping is number one on the agenda, followed by a binge on French pastries, then Aeroplane or Maho or whatever beach for sunbathing and plane spotting.
We wander the quiet, clean, Parisian-feel streets, dipping in and out of boutiques, more for air con than shopping and much sooner than her usual stamina would give in, she puffs, ‘Can we eat and get a cool drink?’
We find a cute bakery and feast on a basket of pastries: almond, cinnamon and raisin, all butter, chocolate.
‘It’s nice to have some time just us,’ I say, rubbing flakes from my fingers.
‘Sure is. I can’t believe you’re engaged!’
‘Pretty crazy, isn’t it? You pregnant, me engaged.’
‘When did we grow up?’
‘You and Williams seem to be doing well.’
She nods but purses her lips. ‘We’re good in that we agree we want to be together. And he already loves bubba. My pops has started to hate him less about the whole baby, unwed, will he or won’t he stay thing.’
‘But.’
‘But he won’t touch me, Scarlett. He says he doesn’t want to hurt the baby but I’m like a raging bag of pissed-off hormones twenty-four seven and all I want him to do is give me a bloody good seeing to. Lord knows he can.’ She pats her tummy and I can’t help but giggle.
‘Have you told him?’
‘Yes. No. I’ve tried. I don’t… We’re not… What if it’s not about the baby? What if it’s me and he doesn’t find me attractive? I’m bloating. I’m irritable. Whoever said this pregnancy malarkey makes you feel wonderful was either a man or talking complete bollocks.’
I practically snort my orange juice. My amusement is short-lived when I realise that my best friend in the whole world, confident, strong, gorgeous Amanda, is doubting herself.
‘Amanda, you’ve got to be kidding. Williams has had eyes for you since that first night in the bar.
He’s absolutely into you. Have you thought that maybe this is just a big change for you both and he’s scared? ’
‘But that doesn’t mean he can’t have sex.’
I laugh again and Amanda chuckles with me, her hands resting on her mini-bump. ‘Maybe you could try to be non-pregnant Amanda, too?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing bad. Just, I think it’s possible you’re playing up some because you’re scared, too. If you just had an honest conversation with him, didn’t try to be tough and didn’t try to mask how you’re feeling, he might open up.’
She swipes up the cinnamon and raisin swirl and takes an enormous bite. ‘You’re right.’
‘It’s okay to be nervous.’
She stuffs the last of the swirl in her mouth. ‘How come you got so sensible?’
‘I’ve always been sensible. You just used to call it boring.’
‘I wouldn’t call you boring now. At it all night, shagging in the sea.’
‘Shh.’ If I wasn’t already flushed by the humidity, her words would do the job.
‘Oh, please, I’m impressed. Give Gregory credit where it’s due, the man’s an animal. I’ve never been taken all night like—’
‘Christ, all right! I didn’t think you could hear.’
‘Couldn’t hear you screaming the yacht into submission?’
I bite my lip but I’m laughing, too. ‘I’m sorry. And I didn’t think you knew we did the thing in the sea.’
She leans forward and takes my orange juice, finishing it. ‘I didn’t, until you just said you did. It’s hardly helping my hormone situation knowing you two are at it like rabbits.’
Shaking my head, I stand. ‘I’m paying the bill and you should try booking into a hotel.’
‘That’s actually not a bad idea. At least I’d get some sleep.’
* * *
‘Here good?’ I ask for the fifth time, losing the will to live after trudging the length of Maho Beach.
Amanda eventually drops her bag and declares, ‘Here’s great.’
I see exactly why when I follow her gaze to an incoming bartender, whose board shorts sit on long thighs, and whose biceps are firm and exposed in his Billabong vest – very Amanda. She juts out a hip and plants a hand on it as she waits for him to come our way.
‘Ladies. Can I set you up on a bed and get you some drinks?’
Amanda unties and shakes her long hair down her back. Jesus, she really is horny.
‘Yes, please,’ I blurt. ‘We’ll take two loungers with a parasol and my friend will have a sparkling water. Because she’s pregnant. With someone else’s baby.’
‘Killjoy,’ she mutters.
‘I’m Jake.’ The guy holds out his hand and Amanda’s pout fades away. ‘Nice to meet you. Let’s get you set up on these beds.’
He pulls two white loungers closer together, lays a bed cushion on each, then takes our beach towels when we hand them to him and drapes them across the beds.
‘The beds are twenty-five dollars and you get five free drinks. One sparkling water and what can I get for you, ah…’
‘Scarlett. I’ll take a something fizzy and zero, whatever you have.’
‘My arse you will!’ Amanda springs up from her already horizontal position on her lounger. ‘I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here forced to drink sparkling water and you’re going to drink a bloody diet pop when there’s no need.’
‘Rum punch?’ Jake asks, his eyebrow raised.
‘Looks like it.’
I peel off my dress to a nautical striped bandeau bikini and lie back with a contented sigh.
‘It feels good to lie down,’ Amanda says, turning to face me. ‘I’ve felt like I’ve been on the boat all morning. Kind of dizzy drunk without the hangover.’
‘It is nice, isn’t it?’ The question is rhetorical.
Of course it’s nice; it’s thirty degrees and we’re out of work.
I’m lounging with my best friend, people-watching.
Tens, maybe even hundreds, of people line the beach, waiting for the show of aeroplanes flying just feet from our heads to land on the airstrip right behind the beach.
And I’m getting married. Not just getting married but getting married to a freaking billionaire who truly, genuinely loves me back.
There are things lingering, things that make me uneasy.
Katrina Martin being number one. Tabloids that shouldn’t be interested in Gregory now that the case is old news, two.
There’s some unfinished business, for sure, but things are changing, I think.
He told me about the tabloids and not months after it happened, only hours.
He’s trying to let me in. Hopefully, in time, it will all become a distant memory.
His nightmares will stop and the pain of his past will get easier.
‘Don’t tell him or anything, Scarlett, but the CEO is starting to grow on me. I like how happy he makes you.’
Jake returns with a punch that looks more rum than juice but I take the brownish-reddish-orangey drink from him and sip through the straw. ‘Jesus Christ! Is there any juice in there?’
He plonks onto the bottom of my lounger and hands Amanda her water. ‘Orange, cranberry and pineapple. It’s like a fine wine; it takes three sips. Trust me.’
I scowl across my plastic cup as I take another sip.
‘I’ve only just met you.’
‘But…’
I stare at the now half-full cup. ‘Well, I guess it is quite fruity after a few sips.’
‘That’s my kind of woman. I’ll fetch another.’
I don’t argue. I’m parched, it’s fruity, and with the combination of sun and only having had pastries for lunch, it’s really making my head pleasantly fluttery.
Punch two down, Jake heads back over with a virgin pina colada for Amanda and punch three for me. ‘All right, ladies, this is it. There’s a 747 headed in. Do you see it over there in the distance?’
The faint lights of the plane twinkle in the clear, blue sky, inbound for the beach.
‘This is the plane all you tourists flock for. She’s the most powerful and the biggest to land on the strip. Do you have a camera?’
I nod, sipping my rum-laced juice or juice-laced rum. Whichever.
‘If you stand right there, you’ll get a great picture.
If you stand in the middle of the beach, you can really feel the force of the engines but it can get pretty dangerous, bowls people right back into the sea.
I’ve seen it carry sunbeds and pushchairs into the water, so, ah, given your current physical state…
’ he gestures to Amanda’s torso, receiving a huffy exhale in return, ‘…I’d suggest you keep your distance. ’
‘Why do the planes get so close if it’s that dangerous?’ Amanda asks.
‘Well, there are warning signs all over the beach. See on the railings back there? But the runway is short for the size of planes coming in.’ He points to the airfield abutting the beach.
‘The pilots have to land right on the start line to make sure they stop before the end. That means the planes have to come in low to touch down and you never really appreciate how fast they’re falling when you’re inside but you’ll see now. Here she comes.’
We sit upright on our loungers, our legs straddling the sides of the bed. I finally let go of my punch, turning the plastic cup in the sand until it stands unaided. Then I take out my camera and brace myself as the 747 comes drifting in.