But I can’t stay here forever.
I get a couple of funny looks on the way to the elevator, along with a disapproving stare from an older lady as I step out. The woman is about Nana’s age, and her reaction causes me quite a start. I want to retort, to snap at her. To tell her she’s jumping to the wrong conclusions because I am a respectably married woman, thank you very much. Then I laugh at my ridiculousness. Still, I wonder how Nana will react to the news.
She’ll probably take it in her stride, given the trouble my mother has caused her over the years. She’ll be shocked at first, sure. I am supposed to be the older, more sensible sister. But something tells me this will all work out fine. Maybe it’s in the way Roman looked at me. The way he held me. He’s coming back. He promised, and I believe him.
I set off along the hallway to the room I’m sharing with April, humming “I Only Have Eyes for You” under my breath.
April isn’t in the room, but a half an hour later, my phone has enough charge for me to store Roman’s number in my address book, under the letter H, not R, and to text April to find out where she is.
The pool restaurant, comes her answer. So that’s where I go.
“Where were you this morning?”
The sun is bright, and I’ve forgotten my sunglasses. “Maybe I went out for a walk.” Ducking my head, I gather my cute blue cover-up under my thighs as I take a seat at a table littered with the remains of a late breakfast or maybe an early lunch. I smile in greeting at the now somewhat familiar girls’ faces. April’s friends are either hiding behind oversized sunglasses or looking a little worse for wear from last night, but they all acknowledge me in one form or another. All except Chelsea, who isn’t here.
Thank God.
“At four o’clock in the morning? Did you also sleep on the floor because your bed was totally unslept in?” April seems so excited and so keen to dish shit, that I can’t help smiling back. I need to write the date down in my diary. I might title it something monumental occurs. She makes as though to display her words in the air, making an arc with her hand.
“You do you,” I answer, shifting my chair until I’m shaded by the huge parasol overhead.
“But who’s been doing you? No, don’t answer that.” She brings her hands together as though she’s about to start a meditation practice. Or maybe yoga. “My spirit guide has the answer for me . . . and she says . . .” April waves a little in her seat, more manic than mystic. “She says it was the Australian you left with last night.”
“Don’t expect me to cross your palm with silver.” Reaching for the carafe of water, I tip some into a clean glass. “Who else was it going to be?”
“What I want is all the dirty, delicious details,” she says, sliding her sunglasses to the top of her head.
“Don’t you have your own birthday tales?”
She snaps back in her chair, curling her hands around the armrests with a frown. “Nope. I got drunk, argued with Jake or Johno, or whatever his name is.” She waves as though the details are unimportant.
“She argued with both of them,” one of the other girls murmurs without lifting her attention from her phone.
April gestures as though to say I told you so.
“I have needs other than carbs and the hair of the dog this morning.” She taps the side of a tall glass half filled with blood red liquid and a celery stick garnish.
“I don’t know how you can stomach that.” Bloody Mary’s make me want to barf.
“Never mind about that. I need my faith in men restored. Tell me he was sweet, Kennedy. Tell me he kissed you like he meant it. Hell, tell me he paid for your drinks, at least!” With that, she snatches a chip up from her plate, biting it aggressively.
This I can do. Sweetness I can share. The details of my wedding night, however, are mine and Roman’s and no one else’s.
“Well, I’m not one to boast,”I begin, preparing to do just that. “But Roman is . . . how can I put this?”
“Hung?” Chelsea caws as her hand slides along the back of my chair. My skin goes immediately cold, the blood in my veins turning to ice water as she takes a chair next to April. “Isn’t that right, Keke?” She reaches for a chip, delicately popping it into her mouth.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” I force a smile as my mind processes a dozen veracity checks. The way he’d smiled during our conversations. His eyes, so blue, as he’d pressed a willow blossom into my hand. His expression as he’d twirled me in a dance in the street.