Chapter 23
NICO
My dad isn’t gracious in victory. He throws down his cards and pulls the poker chips towards himself with a frankly evil giggle. It’s quite menacing really.
We play poker all the time and usually I’m an expert at reading him.
There’s no elegance to his game. No subtle sleight of hand.
He holds his cards a little too high, mutters to himself when he’s bluffing, and smiles like a man trying very hard not to look guilty every time he thinks he’s being clever.
Which is why I know immediately something’s wrong when he wins three hands of poker in a row. It’s not his game that’s changed, it’s my game that’s off.
‘It’s just not your day, is it, son?’ he teases me.
We’re out on the sun deck, just the two of us, playing cards.
Dad’s smile drops as his eyebrows jump.
‘Wait… are you letting me win?’ he checks.
‘Of course not,’ I reply.
‘Are you sure? Because, now that I think about it, you folded on a great hand…’
‘Story of my life,’ I joke.
He laughs, but he can tell something is up.
The afternoon sun hovers warm and bright over the marina while the yacht rocks gently beneath us, the sea shining brightly enough to hurt your eyes if you stare too long. This is usually my happy place – Dad always says I’m like a plant, that I need sunshine and outdoors to thrive – but not today.
Dad studies his hand suspiciously.
‘I’m sure you’re letting me win.’
‘I’m not.’
He narrows his eyes, like he doesn’t quite believe me, then shows me a royal flush.
‘See, that’s not my doing,’ I point out. ‘I’m just off my game today, that’s all.’
Dad looks at me, the smile fading from his face.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.
‘Ah, nothing,’ I insist.
‘Nico…’
I lean back in the chair and drag one hand over my mouth. Now my poker face is failing me. He might not be the best at cards, but my dad knows me well enough to recognise when I’m hiding something that’s on my mind.
‘You don’t seem too happy,’ he says. ‘I thought you’d be happy after last night.’
I glance out to sea.
‘You and Sammie seemed the most loved-up we’ve seen you both and, not just together but, well, ever. Chrissy said the same.’
I laugh softly to myself – not that this is at all funny. If only he knew.
I suppose I need to say something.
‘I think we maybe got a bit carried away,’ I admit eventually.
‘Meaning?’ he asks, one eyebrow raised.
I stare down at the cards spread across the table between us.
‘Meaning it’s not really… working.’
The words feel wrong in my mouth. Not because they aren’t technically true, but because I don’t want them to be.
‘What do you mean, not working?’
I shrug lightly, trying to keep it casual, but probably failing completely.
‘We thought there was something there,’ I say. ‘Turns out there wasn’t. She’s not right for me, Dad.’
The sentence lands on the table with a thud. Dad actually looks devastated.
I get why he’s disappointed, but it is what it is. And at least he’s happy.
‘Nico,’ he says slowly, ‘you two looked very convincing for people with nothing there. Come on, son, don’t do this…’
‘Do what?’
‘Did you upset her?’ he asks, ignoring my question.
I don’t know, did I? Did I do something wrong last night? Because I thought it was great. I guess it was just a one-time thing to her and, like she said, a mistake.
I don’t think any man likes to think of themselves as a mistake. It’s a knock to the ego, for sure, but I feel like a fool because I suppose I thought it was something more. I wouldn’t have let myself get carried away, if I didn’t…
‘I don’t know,’ I admit, my voice much lower than usual.
‘Well, go talk to her then.’
‘I’m giving her space.’
Dad snorts.
‘That’s bloke-talk for “I’m scared she’ll reject me”.’
‘I’m not scared,’ I insist in a way that does make me sound it.
Sammie has made things crystal clear. I know how she feels, what she wants, what she doesn’t want. It’s not my job to talk her round.
‘But you really like her, don’t you?’ he checks.
I open my mouth to automatically deny it, stopping when I hear footsteps approaching.
It’s Sammie and Chrissy, and immediately something feels wrong – well, more wrong than it did two minutes ago.
Chrissy’s smiling, but tightly. Like she’s trying very hard to keep a positive atmosphere by sheer willpower. Sammie’s expression is calmer than it was this morning, but more distant, I’d say.
Dad notices it too.
The whole deck seems to shift slightly as they walk over. I could swear the sun ducks behind a cloud, like when everyone scarpers right before the showdown in a western.
‘Everything all right?’ he asks immediately.
Chrissy glances briefly at Sammie before answering.
‘We’re going to head home,’ she replies.
The words land like someone dropping a glass.
‘What?’ Dad blurts.
‘We’ve booked flights for later.’
‘Today?’
Chrissy nods.
‘Sammie’s had something come up with work,’ Chrissy explains gently. ‘Some sort of emergency. She needs to get back.’
I look at Sammie instantly. She doesn’t look at me.
There is absolutely no work emergency. I know it immediately. Not to be the kind of guy who makes everything about me… but this is about me.
She wants out, which is fair enough, but I wasn’t expecting Chrissy to go with her.
‘No, hang on, wait a minute,’ Dad says. ‘Both of you?’
Chrissy nods softly. ‘I’m not letting her travel back alone upset.’
I notice Sammie give her mum a look. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
‘Upset to be leaving the holiday,’ Chrissy adds.
Dad looks between them helplessly. ‘Can’t you stay another day at least?’
‘I really do need to get back,’ Sammie says, finally speaking, but she still can’t look at me.
Her tone is so off. So apologetically polite.
Dad turns towards me, as though maybe I can fix this somehow.
Fuck, I feel so guilty. This all started as a silly game, a way to get ourselves booted off the holiday so that our parents could be together, but now it feels like our games have ultimately messed this up for them. I can’t let that happen.
I stand up before I can overthink it.
‘Look,’ I say quickly, ‘it’s my fault they want to leave anyway, so I’ll go. Let them stay.’
Sammie finally looks at me. I don’t know if I can see hurt or annoyance or what – but she’s not happy.
‘Not everything is about you, Nico,’ she tells me, her words probably pricklier than she intended them.
She folds her arms tightly.
‘I’m a grown woman. I have a life and a job and responsibilities. I need to get back.’
Dad raises both hands immediately like he’s trying to physically break up a fight.
‘Right,’ he says. ‘Okay. Everyone breathe for a second.’
Nobody looks especially interested in that suggestion.
Chrissy looks quietly heartbroken too, now that I’m looking at her. Dad looks more panicked than anything.
But Sammie… she just looks like she really wants to go home, and like she needs her mum. I know the feeling.
I feel like I’ve somehow managed to ruin the best thing my dad has had in years. That’s the worst part about all of this. Possibly the best thing I’ve had too.
Dad stands slowly from the table, as though there might be a bomb underneath it.
‘Maybe everybody just needs a minute,’ he says carefully. ‘Tensions are high. Why don’t we all have a little siesta, calm down, then talk properly later?’
‘We’ll go pack,’ Chrissy replies. ‘But, truly, thanks for having us, it’s been wonderful.’
Well, it was until it wasn’t.
As Sammie and Chrissy turn back towards the cabins, Dad catches Chrissy’s hand briefly. Just long enough for her to give him a sad smile, a look of something silently transmitting between them, before Chrissy leaves.
You can tell neither of them wants this.
I don’t know what to say. Neither does Dad. What I do know, though, is that this is all my fault. I got myself involved when I should have just kept out of it, kept my head down, let the holiday be about Dad and Chrissy finding each other.
And I’ve no idea what I can do to fix it.