2. Jude
JUDE
“What did you pack in this thing?” Mel mutters as she helps me drag my giant suitcase into the hotel reception area.
A fifteen-hour flight from New York to Cape Town, a bumpy taxi ride, and heat that’s making my T-shirt stick to me like glue, has me wiping my brow with the back of my hand as I puff out an answer.
“Fury, a whole host of self-deprecating, ‘how did I not see it? I’m an idiot’, questions… oh, and a murder plan.”
Her face falls. “Callum’s a shithead.”
“He is,” I agree.
“You had a lucky escape.”
“I know,” I murmur, wishing I wasn’t overcome with extreme embarrassment that makes my stomach churn every time I think about it.
“Jude! Wait! It’s not what you think.”
Callum races after me, tucking himself back into his pants.
“So you weren’t fucking my friend and bridesmaid back there?” I snarl.
His deep brown eyes widen, and his brows shoot up.
“It was nothing. She was hugging me, that’s all. I was nervous about something going wrong today. I want it all to be perfect for you.”
My gaze slides over his white tuxedo jacket. Another choice of his. I wanted black.
“Hugging you? Is that what you call it?” I splutter as Kelly appears behind him.
She at least has the sense to look remorseful, keeping her eyes down, unable to meet my gaze. But maybe that’s just the shock of being caught.
“You’re acting crazy, Jude. You’ve got it wrong,” Callum says, stepping toward me.
I take a step back.
“Oh, right. Blame me. I’m not fucking crazy! I know what I saw, Cal! Only, I didn’t realize you hug a person by taking their dick down your throat too.”
“Fuck,” Callum mutters. “Jude, please. It meant nothing. It was a mistake.”
Kelly scoffs in disbelief and he snaps his eyes to her, throwing her a warning look.
“I love you, Jude. I’m marrying you,” he says, his tone resembling a plea.
“Lucky me,” I deadpan.
Kelly stays silent but finally meets my eyes. The hurt in them is palpable as Callum moves closer to me.
“It was one time,” he says in a low voice. “A mistake.”
“Liar,” Kelly whispers, her eyes filling with tears. “He’s lying to you. He has been for months,” she chokes, shouldering past him and breaking into a run.
Callum doesn’t even glance after her as her retreating sobs echo off the walls.
“Don’t throw away the last five years over… whatever the hell that mess was you just saw. She means nothing to me. Please, Jude. Everyone’s waiting for us. Your father’s waiting to walk you down the aisle.”
My throat thickens.
I search his eyes, looking for a trace of the man I thought I knew. The man I was prepared to spend the rest of my life with.
Callum’s despair is tangible and flowing off him in waves.
My stomach contracts like it’s being held in an iron fist.
It’s not me he’s scared of losing.
It’s my father.
“You would have slept with me on our wedding night with her still all over you,” I whisper.
Callum opens his mouth, but I silence him with a sharp palm raised into the air.
“Nothing you say can fix this, Cal.”
I slide the Harry Winston off my finger and hold it out to him.
“But I’ll say one thing that will be the first step toward fixing me—it’s over.”
“Huh?” I’m snapped back to the present by Mel looking at me with a glint in her eyes.
“I said, is the murder plan just for Callum? Or is it a double homicide to take out Kelly as well?”
I scrunch my nose up. “Can you believe she said I work in an office like it’s something to be ashamed of?”
“Ugh, I know. You’re the one who designed all those fancy systems she’ll be using if she qualifies.” Mel scoffs. “It should be a double.”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
Kelly left before Callum informed our guests that the wedding was being put ‘on hold’.
I wasn’t able to confront her. Her words stung almost as much as catching her and Cal together.
She’d been my friend—or not, as it transpires—for years.
She knows about my strained relationship with my father after I dropped out of med school.
She always told me she thought what I’ve achieved is incredible.
Liar.
But she wasn’t lying about one thing. The look on her face when Callum tried to bullshit me about it being one time told me all I needed to know.
It’s been going on for months. And she means something to him.
Callum’s obviously told her things and acted in a way that made her believe what they have is something special.
Lying cheating jerk.
“And what’s with Callum thinking he can put all the suppliers on back-up?
” Mel rolls her eyes. “Like you’re going to get back from this trip and be all like, ‘It’s okay, I can overlook your dirty, cheating dick ways, and we can get married now.
Silly me, I just needed a few weeks to see that I forgive you, and you’ll be the most incredible, loyal husband, after all. Aren’t I such a lucky, deluded wife?’”
“I don’t know. To save his pride, maybe.”
I try to quell the surge of anger that bubbles up inside me. Callum announced that I had been taken ill suddenly, too sick to continue with the wedding. But that we couldn’t wait to celebrate with them once I was feeling better.
The only thing I cared about was getting out of there. The resulting phone calls from my parents—concerned from Mom, irate from Dad—as I holed up at Mel’s place were hard enough to handle.
I’ve let them all believe I’m too sick and contagious to visit face-to-face.
It’s easier than telling the truth.
“Okay,” Mel says decidedly. “We’ve got three weeks here until we have to worry about any of the shitshow back home. We can think about how you’ll tell everyone what really happened on the flight home. But for now”—she looks around the hotel reception area—“let’s enjoy the heck out of this place.”
She grins at me, and I smile back, gratefully.
“How did you even find it on such short notice?” I ask as we wheel our suitcases to the reception desk.
Mel shrugs. “Someone I know said the retreats here are amazing. A proper mind, body, spirit overhaul. You’ll go back to New York feeling like a new woman.”
“Sounds good.”
Going home means facing everyone. And a new, tougher and self-assured version of me is exactly what I need.
The receptionist is wearing an immaculate spa-style white tunic and greets us with a warm smile. “Checking in?”
“For the Revival experience.” Mel beams.
“Welcome. The retreat is held further along the beach in a private setting. Let’s get you checked in, and then our porters can assist you to your accommodation.”
Mel grins at me, practically shaking with excitement. “That sounds great, doesn’t it, Jude?”
I want to match her enthusiasm so I don’t seem like an ungrateful bitch.
This retreat will be good for me. Time with Mel.
Time to catch up on the mass of emails I have about an upgrade proposal I want to put forward for the records system.
One that will make it run smoother, streamlining test result delivery, and reducing patient wait times.
One that I just need to secure funding for in order to take it to full development stage.
Long, sunny days working on the beach after a bout of yoga or meditation, or whatever it is this retreat entails, will be perfect. Maybe we’ll even get massages.
I really will go back to New York a new woman.
I smile at Mel, real excitement unfurling in my chest.
“Sounds amazing.”