Chapter 31
First class isn’t quite as exciting on the way back.
The seat still reclines into a bed. The champagne still flows and sparkles in equal measure. Warm flannels are still being handed to me with tongs – and I have another pair of pyjamas. But it all feels… hollow. Like I’ve been downgraded, somehow.
The vibe is ruined. It’s not that the holiday is over – although that’s always a shame – it feels like everything is over, and it’s all my fault. My one stupid, honest mistake has ruined it all.
I stare out the window as the plane levels out above the clouds.
I wonder what Jordan must be thinking right now. I feel haunted by the look on his face, the one I’m imagining he made when he found out, when he realised it was me who was sent to betray him.
I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face – I didn’t know that the plan was for me to betray him, but he doesn’t know that. God, I wish I could tell him. The best I can do is tell the empty seat next to me, the one he would have been in if we were both taking our original flights home.
I wish I could have explained myself, told him what I thought my job was, and that this was all Paige manipulating me, but I feel like I’ve missed my chance, and I’ll bet the longer he sits with it, the more mad he probably gets at me. He’s never going to forgive me, is he?
And the bloody annoying thing is that I didn’t make the swap, I chose him. I was never going to do it.
I sigh and lie back in my seat, trying to appreciate the quiet luxury. The calm. The pillow that smells faintly of lavender. The food and drink that is seemingly never-ending.
Up here, life feels like it’s on pause. All time is free time. I could nap, I could watch movies, I could eat, read books, listen to music – do all the things I don’t feel like I have time to do in my day-to-day life.
Instead I’m just beating myself up, and even a first-class beating sucks.
I should be on top of the world right now. I should be heading back to the UK giddy with my new man, looking forward to introducing him to my family, taking him to my cousin’s wedding…
Instead of touching down with a man, I’m bringing bright red eyes, picked-at skin on the sides of my thumbs, and a pretty fucking bleak outlook on all things love and marriage. Not ideal for a wedding. My puffy eyes are really going to clash with the dress code colours.
Which only reminds me – what the hell am I going to tell everyone? Because stupidly I already told them that I’m bringing Jordan, an absolute dream date, and now I’m going it alone again. That needs explaining, whether I want to or not, and the truth simply is not an option.
I pull out my phone and open the notes app. If people ask – and they will ask – why Jordan isn’t with me, I need to give them something quick. Light. Believable. Anything but the truth.
Tech problems could work – a massive cyberattack, perhaps? Saying he’s working isn’t enough; it sounds like he cares more about work than me or the wedding, which isn’t good. It would need to be something big and scary – but wouldn’t something like that make the news?
I could say he was ill, I guess, but where would I say he was? Hospital? People might want to visit him. And why would I leave him, if he was ill? That makes me look bad.
I could borrow any one of the icks, for any of my failed dates – I could say he fell, he was a liar, he was too intense.
I suppose I could always tell everyone that he broke up with me.
I don’t think anyone would find that hard to believe, but then I would feel like I was making things all about me, garnering sympathy, when really I want the day to be all about Hannah.
She deserves to have a wonderful wedding day free of drama – especially from me.
I suppose I’ll just stall at first, say he’s working, he’s in meetings but he’s coming after, and then on the day I’ll just drop a last-minute bombshell, something small but impossible to counter, like a flat tyre.
These things happen, no one can help them, there’s no drama, it’s just disappointing, that’s all.
The reality isn’t disappointing though, is it? It’s devastating.
I’m going to put on a brave face. I have to. I’m going to show up to the wedding, smile until my cheeks ache, drink just enough to feel warm, but not weepy. And I’ll lie through my teeth when people say, ‘Where’s that new man of yours?’
But what I won’t tell them is the truth, that he’s gone, and that it hurts more than I thought it would.
More food arrives – something beautiful but overly garnished. I push it around, trying to feel grateful.
I can’t though. It’s all wasted on me today. Not even the free food and unlimited movies can cheer me up.
I might be in first class but my heart – not to be overly dramatic – is hanging off the outside of the wing by a thread.
And sooner rather than later, life will be off pause, I’ll touch down in reality, and I’ll have to deal with it.
Shit.