Chapter Fifteen
I wake to find my mouth watering.
This is most unusual since it’s usually as dry as the Sahara Desert in the morning and requires instant hydration via strong coffee. Not this morning though. This morning, I am greeted to the delightful waft of freshly baked pastries.
I slowly peel my eyes open.
Gus is already dressed, hair damp from a shower. He’s sitting by the window, staring out at the city view. On the table nearby I spot four cups of coffee and brown, folded paper bags which I pray are filled with warm pastries.
I sit up slowly, frowning. “You got us breakfast?”
He glances at me over his shoulder, smiling. “Good morning, sunshine. We have forty-five minutes until we need to leave. I’ve been building up the courage to wake you.”
I mock scowl at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He presses his lips together and shrugs, playfulness lighting his eyes. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Hmm,” I say. “Pass me the coffee. And whatever is in those bags.”
“Please,” Gus says, dragging out the sound in a way that has my core clenching.
“Please,” I say, holding his stare until he laughs and brings it to me.
He passes a coffee straight into my hands and another cup beside me. “I got you two.” He waits for me to thank him, but my brain isn’t fully awake yet, so I just end up blinking at him till he grins and walks back to the window.
“I do prefer my own room,” I mutter. “Although I could get used to beside service in the mornings.”
He chuckles quietly before tossing a small box on my bed.
I get this weird flashback to Mike’s proposal and nearly choke on my first sip.
It wasn’t that Mike tossed the ring at me, it’s just he didn’t exactly get down on one knee either.
But the déjà vu is jarring. I take a moment to regain my composure before looking down at the object.
Fortunately, it’s much better than a ring.
It’s painkillers. And then I remember: my ankle.
Oof! As if my brain has just caught up, a dull ache makes my toes tingle.
But it wasn’t my first thought upon waking, and I’ll take that as a good sign.
I hope I can walk on it as who knows what the day ahead might throw at us.
I wash two tablets down with more coffee and hope for the best.
Exactly forty-five minutes later, I’m dressed, fed and appropriately caffeinated.
We head to Pile Gate, the ancient access point for Old Town and wait for the taxi to arrive with our jumble of bags.
Part of me is worried the driver won’t show, but all my anxiety dissipates when a modern black Mercedes stops out front.
“Oh, thank God,” I say, sighing. After yesterday’s sweaty, coach ride, I think we deserve a little luxury.
“This is more like it,” he agrees, stepping forward to open the door for me. He offers me his hand.
He’s babied me since I first stepped out of bed this morning, my ankle now a lovely shade of blue.
Gus isn’t much better himself. He hisses every time he has to stand up or bend down.
I’m just glad that we’ve picked a sensible option to get to Kotor.
I read on travel blogs last night that taking the coach through the border controls can take hours so I’m hoping it’s much quicker than that for us.
The driver takes on the hilly lanes with ease as we zoom out of Dubrovnik. Once we’re on the main road, I get a great glimpse of the city below us. The terracotta roofs and blue sea beyond is a delicious contrast, no wonder it’s such a desired holiday destination.
I frown at my phone once we’re past.
“I haven’t had a notification about docking in Kotor yet.”
Gus has been busy staring intensely out of the window his side, but he relaxes now, turning his attention to me. “Maybe it’s because they’re planning on docking in the evening. I’m sure there were two evening stops.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I reckon we get there, have a stroll, grab some lunch, then before we know it, they’ll have arrived and we can safely reboard our luxury cruise.”
I throw my head back and close my eyes. The last forty-eight hours has been stressful. But also sort of fun? “I might sleep for a whole day.”
“You’re telling me, you didn’t sleep like a baby last night?”
I glance at him nervously. I wonder if I spoke in my sleep again.
I wonder what I said if I did. It’s been years since I’ve shared my space at night – other than with Mike, obviously – but he never brought it up because he was such a deep sleeper and he either got used to it or never felt like it needed to be discussed.
I almost want to know if I still say the same things I did as a teenager.
The things that made me cry whenever I got home from a sleepover because it was all my friends could talk about the morning after.
It didn’t take me long to cement myself as the outsider in friendship groups.
I have always been too stubbornly independent to lean on them in a way that was required for those deeply intimate relationships – that is until I met Hattie at university, and she forced herself into my life with her chaotic, loveable energy.
“I don’t know if I did,” I say. “Was I snoring?”
“Not badly.”
“Ugh. You’re lying.”
He doesn’t deny it but shifts the conversation.
“In all seriousness though, Sara, I just wanted to say thank you for bringing me along with you. I really appreciate that you didn’t leave me to fend for myself at the port.
I would probably be back in the UK by now otherwise.
I actually feel like I’ve been able to enjoy being in another city, for the first time in… ” his voice trails off and he shrugs.
I swallow. “Thanks for not being a terrible travelling partner.”
He snorts. “Did you think I was going to be?”
“Do you know what you reminded me of? When I first saw you. You know, when you practically smashed my spritz all down my dress?”
“What?” he says, glancing at me in shock. I laugh at his reaction. “That was you?”
“You really didn’t recognise me?”
He runs a hand down his face, lips parted in disbelief. “This makes so much sense now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You practically balked at the sight of me that night at the bar.”
“Ha!”
“I’m so sorry,” he says, sincerity glowing warm in his eyes. “I was in hot pursuit. I’d been spotted and needed to get on the ship without being seen. I didn’t want anyone to know where I was going or what I was doing.”
“It’s ok,” I tell him. “I get it now.”
He watches me for a moment, then nods.
I sniff, taking us back to the conversation before. “Have you seen Shrek?”
He makes a face, scrunching his nose. “I don’t know if I like where this is going.”
I can’t help the evil chuckle that rattles out of me. “I thought you were going to be a real diva like Prince Charming.”
Gus nods slowly before taking his cap off and flicking his curls back exactly the way Charming does it in the film.
I can’t even fight the smile. “See. Can you blame me?”
“What I’m hearing is that you think I’m charming?”
“I thought you would be annoying and self-serving.”
Gus blows out a dramatic breath. “Well, look at you, judging books by their covers.”
“I was wrong,” I admit, nodding. “You’re only annoying.”
“Ha!”
“You’re not self-serving because you brought me coffees, pastries and painkillers and that is honestly one of the nicest things anyone has done for me in ages.”
His smile softens at this statement. He almost looks sad. “Really?”
I feel like I’ve given something away, something I should have kept to myself, so I shrug. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Oh, Sara,” he sighs, shaking his head. I turn towards the window, cheeks ablaze.
*
We arrive in Kotor three hours later.
I sit in awe, taking in the old fortress, the lush mountains surrounding the city and the bay. As the buildings come into view, a thrill runs through me with the promise of another Old Town to explore. There’s something about these ancient buildings, that make me feel so grounded and light.
It feels like an honour to be able to explore them.
We tip the driver once we arrive, having asked him to take us as close to the sights as possible.
I check my phone for an update, but no word from the cruise yet.
We agree to head straight to the docks, but there’s no sign of the ship.
We’re actually ahead of schedule, for once.
With time to spare, we decide to make the most of it.
Gus dons his uncanny disguise, with those blacked-out sunglasses and backwards black cap and we spend the day wandering.
We walk down narrow streets that lead to a beautiful square, filled with little tables and colourful awnings.
Gus must take about a million photos. I pretend not to notice when he turns the attention on me.
We grab lunch at a cute café just as the sun dips behind a patch of grey clouds, drinking copious cups of coffee and fancy pastries with delicious fillings.
“You know I think we should go to the port office,” I say, after a few hours of sightseeing. “At least we can check what time the cruise is meant to arrive.”
Gus nods. “Ok. Let’s pay and head down there now.”
I smile, taking a final sip. As we head in the direction of the port, steadily, thanks to my ankle, I ask, “What’s with the camera then?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, do you like photography? Have you always done it?”
“Oh right, yeah. It’s what I wanted to be,” he answers. Which makes no sense because…
“As in you didn’t actually want to be a popstar?”
He shrugs. “It’s not that. I did. Obviously.
But whenever someone would ask me what I wanted to be as a kid, I always said a photographer.
I used to go through disposable cameras weekly.
When other kids asked for sweets or Pokémon cards, I asked for a camera.
There was nothing I enjoyed more than picking up that little envelope from the corner shop, full of photos I’d taken, and spend the next few days going through them.
Picking my favourites. Working out how to improve them for next time. ”