10. Katy
Chapter ten
Katy
“H ow hot is it? Is there a pool? What do I pack?”
My phone is propped on my tablet stand on my bedside table with a video call in progress. In three corners of the screen, my best friends are going about their day, all rolling their eyes at me. Paloma is looking up at her computer screen, bright colours reflecting off her pale skin. Ruth is in her kitchen, cooking something that sizzles through her phone’s microphone. Amie is on her sofa, cuddled against Cam’s chest, and I can hear Maisy roaring like a dinosaur in the background.
“It’s warm, but not exactly tropical. There’s a pool and a spa in the hotel. Bring those cute denim shorts you got last summer.” Amie answers every question without looking at her phone, her eyes and a soft smile fixed on what I assume is her daughter out of frame.
“Ooh the grey ones?” Paloma snaps her face to the screen and picks up her phone. “They were cute. Pack those. Definitely pack those. Ooh and that pink dress!”
“Which one?” Ruth snorts. “There’s only about a hundred of those in her wardrobe.”
“Hey,” I protest. “Pink looks cute on me.”
“It does!” Ruth agrees. “I wish I looked cute in pink. I just look like one of those cabbage patch thingies.”
“Shut up, you look cute in just about everything ,” Paloma insists. “Even a bucket hat. And no one looks cute in a bucket hat.”
I dig around in a drawer and pull out three bikinis, holding them up to the camera.
“Blue,” my friends say in unison, and all three of them laugh. I toss the sky-blue two-piece into my open suitcase.
“And the pink one,” Amie adds. “Your tits look great in the pink one.”
“Thanks, A,” I grin. I throw both of the remaining swimsuits into my case before unearthing several sandals and repeating the process. It takes another hour and half a bottle of wine, but with the help of my friends, I manage to pack for the trip. I even manage to zip my suitcase closed with little fuss, despite the four books I added to compress all the clothing. I set an early alarm, prepare my carry-on bag with my passport and essentials—as guided by Amie, my travel guru—and crawl into bed. When I plug my phone in to charge and turn off the lights, there’s a message from Jay waiting for me.
Jay
Be safe in Mexico, Princess. Don’t drink the water. Text me when you land.
I send a quick ‘thank you’ back before I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
Amie manages to pull enough strings to have me, Cam, and Maisy upgraded to business class, so even though our flight is long, it’s far more comfortable than I expected. I spend most of it alternating between reading about cowboys, and using the in-flight Wi-Fi to text Ruth and Paloma. At some point, I fall asleep, and when I wake, I find Maisy peering directly into my face and demanding to join me for a cuddle and to watch her favourite dinosaur cartoons on her tablet. Twelve hours after we leave the ground in London, we land to a balmy evening in Mexico City.
We join Amie and her flight crew on the bus to the hotel, and Amie collects the room keys from the check-in desk before handing them out. She hands over my key last. My room is adjoined to hers, and I take Cam’s bag along with my own as he carries a sleeping Maisy to the eighth floor. We have a full day of sightseeing and exploring planned for tomorrow, so after a quick, blissfully hot shower to rinse off a long day of travel, I settle into the king-sized bed for some much-needed sleep.
After breakfast in the sweetest bistro close to the hotel, where Maisy charmed the elderly couple at the counter with her wide smile and broken Spanish, we venture further afield to an artisan market. Stepping out of the rideshare and into the midday sun in Mexico is glorious. The driver’s air conditioning chilled my bare limbs, and although it’s not exactly tropical, it’s still warm, even for February, and the afternoon sun heats my skin pleasantly.
We shuffle through an archway towards what looks like an explosion of colour. There are colourful flags hanging from ceilings, rows and rows of tables laden with a rainbow of handcrafted goods, and I can hear at least four different songs playing from various stereos around me.
The air is filled with the most delicious smells of all kinds of local delicacies from tacos to churros, and I even spot stalls selling huge cups of prepared fruits. Everyone who passes us smiles and says hello, and both Cam and Amie return their friendly greetings.
“This place is insane,” I whisper, trying to take it all in. I’m not usually one for being overstimulated, but with all the colour and noise, the brightness of the outdoors and the dark of the covered market, the smells, and I’m on the other side of the fucking world —
“You okay?” Amie asks quietly. She bumps my hip with hers and I plaster a wide smile on my face.
“I just can’t believe I’m actually in fucking Mexico ,” I say, spinning on the spot with my arms outstretched. Maisy is in Cam’s arms, sitting comfortably on his hip, and she stares at me with wide green eyes.
“That’s a bad word Aunty K,” she says seriously. “Mama says not even Daddy say it . ”
Amie turns away and I see her shoulders shake with laughter as she shoves her fist against her mouth. I fight back a smile and reach out to my goddaughter. She takes my hand and holds it tightly in both of hers.
“You’re right, Maisy-Pop,” I tell her. “It’s a very bad word and I shouldn’t say it. Neither should Daddy. I promise I’ll try not to do it again.”
Maisy nods solemnly, accepting my apology. For his part, Cam smirks, then smooths a hand over his daughter’s curly hair. When Maisy looks away, I pull a face and stick my tongue out at him. Since he and Amie reconnected and he dove headfirst into being both a dad and a partner, I’ve spent a lot of time with him. We both love Amie and Maisy, and in just a couple of months, I’ve come to love the man like a brother.
Like a tall, kind of hot, mildly annoying brother.
I’m so happy that Amie’s in love. She’s never been happier in all the years we’ve known each other, and her happiness brings me so much joy. But now I’m here with my best friend—and her boyfriend and their daughter—feeling exactly as I feared: like a third wheel. I kind of wish Roo or Paloma were here, too. Someone I can have fun with, whilst Amie is busy with her family. Someone who knows me, who I can let my hair down and be a little crazy with. Someone who I can be myself with. Someone like Jay.
Wait.
Fuck .
I wish Jay were here.
To quell the ache in my chest at the thought of Jay, I offer to take Maisy for a walk around the market so Amie can have some time alone with Cam. Maisy is thrilled, and she spends the first few aisles gasping and giggling with delight at the colourful sights.
“Don’t touch anything, Miss Mae,” I warn, pausing to ghost a fingertip over a pair of floral beaded earrings. They’re stunning: intricately woven sunflowers that hang three or four inches from the ear hooks. They look just like something Paloma would wear, and I stuff my hand into the pocket of my shorts and pull out a handful of crumpled notes.
The stallholder greets me in quickfire Spanish and I feel my eyes cross slightly. I’ve never been a languages girl. That was always Amie. While she excelled in languages in school, I was more of a middle-of-the-road kind of student, good at sports and history and very average at everything else. I wrack my brain for the few Spanish words I know and come up empty.
“How much?” I point at the earrings, keeping half an eye on Maisy. She has her hands carefully on her knees as she crouches in front of a little basket of colourful wooden cars, enchanted by their shapes.
“Setenta,” the young girl tells me with a lisp and a grin. Her teeth are held in place with shiny silver braces. “Seven—um, seventy pesos.”
Sold.
I flip through the notes in my fist and hand over a fifty and a twenty, and the girl produces a small paper bag from her pocket. She bags the earrings and I tuck them into my shoulder bag, then call to Maisy.
“Come on, Lil Lady,” I say. “Let’s go find Mama and Daddy.”
I take her small hand in mine and we swing arms with our joined hands. She laughs in that unashamed, exuberant way only a three-year-old can as we stroll through the marketplace aisles, looking for Amie and Cam.
I spot Cam turned away from me, partially shielding Amie from my view. He steps aside just in time for me to see Amie in her element. She stoops slightly, taking an elderly lady’s hands in hers and when I strain my ears, I can hear her chatting away in fast, fluent Spanish with a pretty smile lighting her face. When she steps away from the lady, she’s holding a small paper bag and a few steps further from the stall, she stops and digs her hand in, then holds something out to her boyfriend. She lifts her curls off her shoulders and I realise it’s a necklace. Cam fastens it around her throat and kisses the spot where the clasp sits, and my heart clenches uncomfortably.
They’re so in love. Amie looks up at him with an expression like that heart-eyed emoji, a wide smile and so much love clear as day on her face. He leans down to kiss her lips and I look away. It feels intrusive to watch this moment, even though they’re in a bustling, public marketplace. I shake off my misery and trot towards them with Maisy’s hand in mine.
“Look Maisy, we found them!”
Amie crouches with her arms spread wide and as I release Maisy’s hand, the little girl runs into them with an excited squeal. Amie sweeps her into the air, planting big kisses all over her face.
That’s what I want , I think morosely. I want a love like Amie and Cam’s. I want the white dress, the house, the babies, the happily ever after. Maybe even a puppy. I’m not getting any younger, and seeing my best friend accidentally falling into the life I want for myself has me irrationally and embarrassingly jealous. I feel sick to my stomach for being so green with envy. And I hate it. I’m happy for Amie. I really am. But I want what she has. I want it so desperately, it hurts.
With one eye on his girls, Cam steps to me and slings an arm across my shoulders. I wrap an arm around his waist in return and lean my head into him. He smells like cedar, warm and comforting, but there are no butterflies in my belly. Not like the woodsy cypress of Jay’s cologne.
“You’ll find it, Katy-cat,” he whispers, as though he heard my thoughts.
I squeeze his waist.
“You’re a good man, Cam,” I tell him, my eyes on Amie and Maisy. “Thank you for making them so happy.”
“I always will,” he whispers, his eyes locked on them, too.
The following morning, I rap my knuckles against the adjoining hotel room door. Cam pulls it open with a grin, Maisy clinging to his leg and cackling loudly.
“Aunty K!” She launches herself from Cam’s leg to mine, shrieking my name. “It Mama’s birthday!”
“It is?” I feign surprise. “I guess we’d better go and give her birthday kisses!”
Maisy rushes across the room, leaping onto the bed where Amie is busy replying to a text. If I know her at all, it’ll be the texts that have blown up my phone in the last couple of seconds—birthday texts from Ruth and Paloma. I pull out my phone to do the same before sitting down beside Amie and pulling her into a sideways hug.
ROO
Happy birthday A!
Lolo
happy birthday bestie love u forever xoxoxo
ROO
@Katy don’t forget to pull her pigtails 32 times
Amie
she will NOT be pulling my hair
Katy
she most definitely will be pulling hair
love you boo xo
After I convince Amie to let me braid her hair—and I send Ruth and Paloma a video of me pulling her pigtails just once, to prove it happened—we head to the pool. It’s gloriously sunny, and warmer than I expected for a February morning.
Cam and Maisy are in the water, roaring like dinosaurs and splashing each other. The air is filled with laughter. Amie and I lie side by side on towel-wrapped sun loungers, a small table between us holding a yellow birthday cupcake and a pair of bright cocktails topped with umbrellas. Amie lifts her glass to her mouth and takes a long drink.
“This is how I ended up pregnant,” she says wryly, holding out the glass in a toast, before drinking more.
“Really? ‘Cause I thought you had to—”
“Oh, do fuck off,” she laughs.
“You’re happy.” I sip my own drink, then use it to gesture between Amie and her family in the pool. She’s watching them with a tender smile; Cam is holding Maisy afloat on the water’s surface as she kicks her feet, sending cascades of droplets flying through the air. My best friend turns to me, a goofy smile still tugging at her lips.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Good. All I want is for you to be happy.”
“Are you happy, K?”
I consider her words for a moment before answering. I’m not not happy. I have amazing friends. I have a job that pays enough to keep my house warm, dry, and full of coffee and books. I’m healthy. My parents are healthy. But as I glance over at Cam, peppering his daughter’s grinning face with kisses, and then at Amie, with her tender, love-filled eyes as she watches them…
I’m not not happy. But I don’t know if I’m happy , either.
“I will be,” I say. And I think of Jay.