Chapter Two
Two Two months later
“Hey, wake up,” Millie’s voice stirs me.
“What the fuuuuck…” I hiss, half-delirious.
“Wake up. I have coffee.”
This gets my attention. I sit bolt upright in my bed and stare at my bright-eyed youngest sister who is smiling far too eagerly for this time of day. What time is it anyway?
What day is it?
I glare at her like she’s lost her last marble and check the time on my phone. Except I don’t, because my phone isn’t where I left it.
“Millie, what the fuck? I thought I was being murdered.”
She regards me, quirking her head in confusion. “Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because there’s an intruder sat at the end of my bed.”
“What, me? What kind of intruder brings coffee? And, besides, it’s ten a.m. on a Saturday. I don’t think that’s prime intruder time.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How would you know?” She doesn’t answer and it’s just as well because I’m too busy searching for my phone. It can’t have gone far…
“You looking for this?” she asks, waving the cube that runs my life in my face. “It was vibrating on your bedside table when I arrived. Everyone was worried about you, so here I am.”
I blink, trying to orient myself. Millie snaps her fingers in my face.
“Stop it,” I grumble.
“Earth to Sara! You’ve been virtually MIA since the wedding. Dad’s on the verge of a stroke. I mean, technically, that’s not your fault. He has terrible blood pressure.” My phone buzzes again. “You need a new phone. This one is so old. Are you packed yet?”
“What?” My brain is absolutely not prepared for this kind of interrogation.
Simple fact about me: I’ve trained my body to only function after at least three cups of coffee and this must be topped up throughout the day, or else I will crash. It’s my only flaw.
That and my newest trait: infamous runaway bride.
Millie fidgets, frowning from the end of my bed. “Have you hit your head? Your flight! Are you checked in for your flight? It leaves in six hours.”
“What are you talking about?” I snatch my phone from her to find a string of notifications. I scroll through the most recent ones, all updates about my upcoming trip.
Oh, yeah – that.
The honeymoon.
It’s been lingering in the back of my mind since I ran like a small puddle of grief.
I dip my toes in from time to time and let myself cry about it.
Not helped by the fact that it was planned for two months after our non-wedding because I couldn’t take the additional time off in May.
So, the sorrow has lingered. Obviously, I can’t go on my honeymoon.
That would be… I allow myself to consider it again and almost sputter out a laugh.
What would I even say?
Oh hi, it’s actually just the one of us now. Merry old me, all alone. The bride who did a runner and is now taking the non-refundable, all-inclusive honeymoon cruise of a lifetime. Alone. Betrayed and heartbroken. Pfft. As if.
“So you did hit your head,” Millie scoffs. “Your flight to Venice, obviously!”
“Why are you going through my phone?” I snap.
She makes a face and shrugs. “I’m your sister.
Besides, you were unconscious. Also Abby made a note of your holiday in her diary.
She thought you’d bail. Not sure why it’s me who has to do the flyby visit to check in.
Just because I’m the youngest and live in the same street, doesn’t mean I’m not also important and busy. I have a boutique shoe shop to run.”
“Millie, honestly…”
“I brought you a coffee,” she points out again to distract me, handing me a reusable cup that I recognise from the café across the road. It’s good stuff at least.
I eye her suspiciously as I take a long sip, feeling the warm kick working its way through my blood stream. “What do you want?”
She pouts and quirks her head. “Other than for you to have a shower?”
I narrow my eyes.
“Look, you weren’t answering your phone, so Dad and Abby sent me round to check on you. Check you’re packed. Taxi booked, et cetera. You’ve been so distant and moody recently.”
“As always, Mills, you’re a treat to hang out with.”
She grins with mirth. “Thanks.” I give her a look, silence stretching between us.
There’s a part of me that wants to reveal all.
Especially to my sisters. I feel like they’d at least listen, if only to soak up the drama, but then I think about how to explain it and the words get jammed in my throat.
Besides, I don’t want to burden them with my problems, knowing they’ve all got plenty of their own stuff going on.
Sure, people, colleagues, friends, they’ve been curious. Hattie, for example, knows me well enough to step around the hard parts and squeeze out smaller truths first. Which is why I’ve done a stellar job of avoiding her.
I’m ashamed to admit that I’m embarrassed about how he betrayed me. It feels like I did something wrong too. I wasn’t paying enough attention. Besides, what’s the point of talking about it now? I’ve left him. It’s over. Move on.
“Look, do you want me to help you pack or not? Judging by the state you’re in, you’ll need all the help you can get.”
“Ugh, no. I’m not going.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I’m not going,” I repeat slowly. “You know, on my honeymoon, seeing as I’m not actually married.”
“So?!”
I scoff, staring at her in disbelief. “So, that would be insane. You know, since I don’t have a husband.” I run a hand through my hair. Ah hell, that’s greasy.
As if she can read my mind, Millie cringes, mirroring my expression. “I don’t understand,” she says.
“Tell me what’s stumping you and I’ll try to walk you through it.”
“You’re telling me you’re not going on the trip of your dreams because you don’t have a husband?”
“Hmm, now that you put it like that. Yes. That is correct.”
“What? No. What?”
“Millie, I’m half awake. Please can I at least drink my coffee in peace and have a shower?” She’s no longer smiling. It’s more of a confused grimace. I scowl back at her as I climb out from under the covers and hobble to the ensuite.
When I return, she’s no longer in my room.
I wrap a towel round my head, pull on some clean pyjamas and find her in the kitchen.
I bought my converted warehouse flat near the lanes in Brighton four years ago.
It cost me a lifetime mortgage and every penny I had, but it was mine and mine alone.
Mike was cagey about being mortgage-bound; his credit was iffy.
So, I bought it for me, and for us. Whenever I stand in my kitchen like this, I’m so thankful I was sensible enough to do it myself.
It made moving him out exceptionally easy because there was no doubt about who owned the place.
I hold a finger up when she starts to speak. “Wait. More coffee.”
“Oh, come on,” Millie groans.
“My flat, my rules,” I warn. I turn the coffee maker on and lean against the counter, taking my sweet time, knowing the waiting will be driving her crazy. I finally take a seat opposite hers, cradling a steaming cup in my palms.
“Can I talk now?” she asks.
“One sec,” I say, taking a slow, scalding sip. “Go on.”
“We’ve discussed it in the group chat and we’ve made an executive decision.”
“We?”
“Yes, your sisters.”
I take a moment to check my phone. My messages blew up for the first week after the wedding – so much so, I actually muted several people and even blocked some of Mike’s family who were horribly misinformed. Because why would he tell them the truth? He couldn’t even spare it for me.
But it’s fairly quiet now, just a few messages from close friends. I search for the family chat. Nothing there. Must be the sister chat. But hang on…
“There are no new messages in our group chat.”
Millie bites her bottom lip. “Oh. We must’ve used the other one.”
I nearly do a spit take. “I’m sorry, you have a group chat I’m not in?”
“We made it for the wedding,” she says, waving a hand dismissively.
“Liar.”
“It’s not really relevant right now.”
“To hell, it isn’t. I want a full transcript sent to me within the hour. What are you brats saying about me?”
“Not everything’s about you, Sara,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Look, you spent obscene amounts of money on that cruise. I know because when you sent the link to us, Abby gave you a three-page essay about backpacking across Europe to save money and you didn’t reply.”
“She wasted her energy. I wasn’t going to backpack on my honeymoon.”
“Yes. Agreed. Can you imagine? There’s no way you would travel that way. You’re far too…” She pauses and I don’t need her to fill in the blank. I give her a sardonic look which she pretends to ignore. “You have to go on this cruise. You booked it. Did you even go halves?”
“Well,” I say. My gut flipping over on itself at the thought of my lost savings. I had to pay for him too because he didn’t see the value in going on a honeymoon. Yikes. How didn’t I see it? “No, but—”
“There you go! Problem solved. Great. Let’s pack.”
I take a deep breath, swallowing down a jolt of panic. “Millie. No. I don’t…” I wrap my arms around myself.
It occurs to me that she hasn’t even offered me a hug or asked if I’m ok.
Most people would be offended, but it’s a coping mechanism we adopted as a family after mum passed.
Why ask if somebody is ok when you know they probably aren’t?
What good will a hug do when your world is falling apart around you?
She groans, but I swear I see a flicker of pity in her eyes. “You don’t have much time to make this decision.”
“I really appreciate you checking in on me. Honestly, I do.” Even if it’s been jarring and has given me a headache. “But right now, what I need is to be alone.”
“Yes, exactly. Alone in the Mediterranean. On a luxury yacht.”
“No. Alone here. Not in forced proximity with a bunch of strangers.”
“But you’ve been alone this whole time.”
“I just don’t feel like going anymore. It’s tainted now.”
Millie’s shoulders visibly sag. “Fine. But I’m sad for you.
I can’t remember the last time you had a proper holiday, can you?
” She stands up, shrugging. “I don’t usually say this, because frankly I’m the only one who deserves a holiday most of the time, but you really need this.
You work insane hours. You’ve been even more stressed recently.
I just think you need an adventure. When was the last time you did something just for you?
And not for someone else? Not for Mike, for me, Abby or Gemma?
Dad! Even Hattie!” The question tugs at my heartstrings.
It is a rare sight indeed to see Millie looking beyond her own nose.
Dare I say, it’s cute. And persuasive.
“It’s not that simple,” I say, shrugging it off.
“Why not? It should be that simple. You’ve booked a holiday. You’ve not cancelled your annual leave, have you? I can’t think of anything you need more right now than to just get away from it all.”
“It will just remind me of…” I can’t finish my sentence in the way I want to. “Of how it ended.”
“Bullshit!” she exclaims. “I don’t know what went down between you and Mike because you tell us nothing.
” She rolls her eyes. “But I know you. And you don’t make mistakes.
Something happened. Something serious and I know you wouldn’t have run if he didn’t deserve it.
If you’re looking for permission to go, you have it from me. ”
I can’t fight a smile. “Thank you, Millie.”
“Yay! So what bikinis do you want to pack?” she asks, spinning towards my room.
“I’m still not going,” I call after her. “I’m sorry, but it really just doesn’t feel right.”
“Fine,” she says, sticking out her tongue. There’s a frustrated pause as she frowns across the room at me. Then she sighs. “I guess I’ll just head out then. Give you that much needed space, and all. Besides, I’ve checked on you, you’re alive, everyone can relax.”
I mumble a quiet thanks and within seconds my flat is quiet again.
Outside, I catch the exhales of buses climbing the Brighton hills and the constant chatter of seagulls soaring along coastal gusts.
I know I shouldn’t lash out at Millie, but can she really blame me?
The last thing I need right now is to be antagonised.
My phone vibrates again.
“Ah, what now?!” I groan. I expect to see a message from Abby, Gemma or Dad, but instead, it’s from the cruise. I dare myself to open it, stare at that picture that lured me in all those months ago.
I never thought I’d be a cruise kind of girl, but this isn’t just any old cruise.
This is an intimate, luxury cruise on a ship that looks more like a giant superyacht.
It’s all black, sleek, sharp edges. I booked a stylish cabin and it’s ready for me now, docked in Venice harbour.
The photo they use in their emails features their main restaurant, all cream table clothes and shiny, spotless furniture.
Keep scrolling and you’ll find pristine ocean views, and beyond that?
Mountains and the exquisite backdrop of the Croatian coastline.
That grief pooling in my mind deepens, making my heartbeat faster.
Maybe I could go.
Maybe I could do it.
Maybe, and this is a big maybe, Millie is right. Maybe this is what I need, and I shouldn’t feel guilty about it.
Fifteen days of luxury and sightseeing around the Mediterranean.
All-inclusive fine dining. Round the clock pampering.
The schedule teases me: the cruise starts in Venice; heads down the coast of Croatia, stopping at Rovinj, Split and Dubrovnik; goes into Kotor, Montenegro; heads around the bottom of Italy and back up the coast, docking at Taormina, Rome, Portofino; sails towards Monte Carlo, Monaco; takes you to Toulon; and finishes in Spain at Palamos and Barcelona.
It really does sound like the trip of a lifetime. I look around my empty flat.
Would I make it in time if I left now?
I never did cancel my annual leave. I had planned to spend the fortnight moping around and feeling sorry for myself. But… I might as well do that in the sun, right?
Adrenaline hits me like a bus. I’m on my feet and dancing through my bedroom, tugging my suitcase out and throwing it on my bed.
I practically beat my clothes and shoes in, packing enough underwear so I’m prepared if I shit myself thirty times on the trip, before finally dressing in loose jeans and a vest. Then I rummage through my paperwork drawer in search of my passport.
In a matter of minutes, I’m out the door and striding up the street towards Brighton station, booking a ticket to Gatwick Airport on my phone. I text the group chat.
Congrats. You brats win. I’m going. Tell Dad. See you soon. I can’t believe you set up a group chat without me. Not forgiven!