Broken Dreams Boxset

by Rebecca Barber

  After spending ten days in paradise, a tiny island in the Maldives, one designed specifically for honeymooners, indulging in delicious cocktails, almost inhaling the deliciousness that was the daily buffet, and spending way more hours than normal in bed – not necessarily sleeping either – Drew and I not only recovered from the craziness that was sticking our families in the same room, adding alcohol and hoping for the best, but also the pressure of creating memories of our perfect day.

  Returning home was hard. Harder than either of us imagined. It took a little while for reality to sink in. In many ways Drew and I existed in our own little blissed-out bubble, only venturing out when absolutely necessary. It wasn’t until we were at a dinner party –somewhere along the way we’d become grownups; I wasn’t sure when or how that even happened, but we started going to dinner parties with friends instead of meeting down the pub for a chicken schnitty – that we noticed how detached we’d become.

  Charlotte, everyone’s favourite dinner party host – mainly because she was an amazing cook and even better baker, and you knew she was going to be serving up some totally scrumptious food at her place – poured herself another glass of Shiraz and took her seat next to her husband, Bradley. Not Brad. Bradley.

  “So, Maggie.” The way she said it made me feel like a child being scolded by their mother. I smiled as sweetly as I could force, although it wasn’t easy as the flock of seagulls in my stomach, also known as anxiety, took flight. “Where’s Drew been keeping you tied up?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What my wife is trying to say is,” Bradley interrupted as his huge palm covered his wife’s perfect French manicure. The sight had me burying my hands in my lap so no one saw the chewed nails. “What have you been up to? We barely see you guys anymore.”

  I let out a sigh of relief and my shoulders sagged. Beside me, Drew chuckled as he gave my knee a squeeze. Even though we knew we’d been a little bit withdrawn, I don’t think even we realised exactly how much we’d been missing out on. Or even more embarrassingly, that anyone had actually noticed.

  “Come on, man. You know how it is,” Drew replied vaguely, draining the rest of his beer before draping his arm across the back of my chair. When he started tracing circles on my shoulder with his thumb, I wanted to rub up against him. That’s all it took. I was like a bitch on heat when it came to Drew. One touch. One smirk. One simple word, and I became putty in his hands. Putty he was an expert in moulding.

  After dinner, we’d barely made it through the door when Drew’s lips found that spot just below my ear that made my knees buckle. My first orgasm of the night was pinned against the front door. The second, was halfway down the hallway when Drew had me screaming his name as I exploded on his tongue. By the time I was riding out my third or maybe it was my fourth, we’d managed to stumble our way into the bedroom, leaving our discarded clothes like a trail of breadcrumbs.

  Turns out married life was awesome. I was married to my best friend. It was hard to imagine that barely two years ago, we’d never even met. I’d been hanging out at the local pub, which on Saturday nights served cheap drinks while the DJ played the same songs on repeat, and we were celebrating Kristie’s twenty-third birthday. We’d spent the whole day getting ready. Shopping, pedicures, predinner cocktails, then we’d piled into the back of the taxi and headed out with plans for a night we’d never forget.

  Except I’d forgotten.

  Completely.

  Maybe it was the vodka shots I’d downed like they were water. Or maybe it was the wine. Perhaps it was the fruit cocktails Kristie had been experimenting with. More than likely though, it was a combination of all of them. One I wouldn’t be repeating anytime soon. Not deliberately anyway.

  I blamed Kristie. Not only for the tiny little men which appeared to have taken up residence inside my head and were mining for gold, but also the total lack of recall I was faced with.

  Rolling over though was the slap in the face I obviously needed to jumpstart my sluggish brain and potentially pickled liver. Lying beside me with the sheet draped low, and I mean indecently low, was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. Even facing away from me I noticed how long his dark lashes were as he slept. He had that sexy V thing happening. The one that made girls stupid. At least they made me stupid. After ogling him for longer than acceptable, I felt the cool breeze pebble my exposed skin. And damn there was a lot of it. Realising I was more than a little underdressed, I scampered out of the bed and locked myself in the bathroom, leaning on the sink too afraid to look up and see the disaster staring back at me in the mirror.

  By the time I finally summoned the courage to step out of the bathroom, I’d cleaned my teeth, finger-combed my hair and tugged on a pair of faded yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt I’d found lying on the floor. It wasn’t my most attractive outfit to be caught wearing, but it was better than my birthday suit.

  “Morning,” a raspy voice greeted me from my bed.

  As he sat up, I noticed the ink wrapped around his bicep and my knees wobbled. Ink was my weakness. Well, one of them anyway. Ink. Muscles. The whole messy hair, don’t care attitude. The casual smirk. That delicious V. Mmm, that V. From where I was standing in the doorway, I could see it and the very prominent bulge it was pointing to. Someone was definitely awake.

  “Ah, hi.” I was a total loser. I couldn’t even greet the guy in my bed without stuttering. And based on the razor burn on my thighs and the incredible ache between my legs, I didn’t have to ask to know he’d already had me in more compromising positions than the one I was currently in.

  “It’s all good, Maggie.” Could this guy read my mind? How’d he know that I was freaking out? Did I look like I was freaking out? Shit! Now I was freaking the fuck out over the possibility I was freaking out. I needed help. Urgently.

  What’s more, I’d given him my real name. Or someone else had. Or he’d stolen my wallet and looked at my licence. What the hell was I going to do? Adonis didn’t give me time to even ask. Reaching over, he didn’t seem fazed at all as the sheet dropped even lower around his hips. Dangerously low. Deliciously low. “I’m Andrew. But my friends call me Drew.”

  “So, what do I call you?”

  He let out a deep, hearty chuckle and I felt my face burn. I couldn’t believe those words had just come out of my mouth. I was the world’s worst flirt. If I tried to look sexy, I’d trip over my own feet. If I tried to act sexy, I was more than likely to slop something straight down my shirt. And when I tried to speak like I knew what I was doing, well that was a disaster I couldn’t run fast enough from.

  I wanted to take the words back so badly. The problem was though, once they were out, there was absolutely nothing I could do. Now I just had to hope like hell Andrew, or Drew, whatever the hell his name was, was a gentleman and would let it slide.

  Nope.

  Not a gentleman.

  Not a gentleman at all.

  “Well last night I’m pretty sure you were calling me God, so…”

  I thought I was going to self-combust. Literally explode. My mouth was as dry as the Sahara in the middle of summer. I didn’t need a mirror to know my cheeks were bright red. And not only my cheeks. It would be from the tips of my ears all the way down my neck. Embarrassment and I didn’t sit well. Never had. Probably never would.

  “Oh my God!” I prayed the ground would open up and swallow me whole. Put me out of my misery.

  “Yep. You said it more than once too. Or should I say, screamed it.”

  “Kill me now.”

  “Oh, come on now, Mags. No need to contemplate your demise. It’s all good.” His confidence astounded me. Stunned me. Froze me. Or maybe it wasn’t his confidence that had me wide-eyed. Maybe it really was the fact that when he reached for my hand, the sheet had fallen away completely and I saw firsthand just how cocky he really was. And bravo. That man had every right to be cocky.

  “Can you… I don’t know. Can you cover that… that thing up?”

  Without
missing a beat, he looked me square in the eye, and I was more than a little impressed with myself for being able to hold his gaze rather than let my wandering eyes travel south, and grinned. “Well, you know I would but you depleted my supply last night.”

  “Oh my God! Seriously?”

  “Again with the praise. I mean, I’m not saying I don’t like it, but maybe you could try something a little different. Something like more, Drew. Harder, Drew. Again, Drew. Don’t stop, Drew.”

  “Get out, Drew?” I offered.

  “Nah, not a fan of that one.” The cheeky bastard snagged my wrist and with one short, sharp tug, I was falling towards the bed, his one-eyed monster, staring back at me. With some weird squawk, I hit the bed, but it was barely a beat before Drew had me pinned under him. “This one, however, I’m a fan of.” I felt exactly how much of a fan he was when he pulsed against my thigh. “Huge fan actually.” Huge was the right word too.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MAGGIE

  PRESENT DAY

  Waking up, I rolled my neck from side to side, wincing at the cricks and creaks. Everything was already aching, and I wasn’t even halfway there yet. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I hated how oily my skin already felt. It was my biggest pet peeve when I travelled. I could board the plane looking like a perfectly normal human, but by the time I landed, whether the flight was two hours or twenty, I looked like I’d taken a swim in a vat of oil. It was truly disgusting. I broke out in pimples like a prepubescent teen and my hair, gross.

  Beside me, my neighbour snored and snorted with his legs outstretched. As much as I wanted to get up and walk a bit, I wasn’t about to wake someone. Let him sleep. Besides, while he was asleep, he wasn’t trying to peer down my top or force me into uncomfortable conversations. Talking was the absolute last thing I wanted to do.

  When Kristie finally convinced me that getting away would be a good idea, I only had one condition. It needed to be somewhere where I could be on my own. That way, if I wanted to be miserable Maggie, then I could be and no one could be offended. Right now, I couldn’t think of anything worse than having to make small talk with strangers or be expected to be excited about being on holidays. For me, this wasn’t a holiday. This wasn’t some luxurious, exotic escape. For me, this was a necessity. This was the time out I desperately needed, even if I hadn’t realised it. Thank god for best friends. Sometimes they knew what you needed before you did. And in my case, not only did Kristie know, she also had the ability to make it happen. I mightn’t be excited for an adventure, I might not be craving it, but it was coming my way, ready or not. Clicking the black screen in the headrest in front of me, the world map glowed up along with all the flight details. Still eight hours and twenty-seven minutes before we touched down in Johannesburg. What was waiting for me when I arrived, knowing Kristie, was anybody’s guess.

  Grabbing my tablet from the seat pocket, I tried to concentrate on one of the million books I’d downloaded. I wanted to get lost in someone else’s world for a while. Pretend my problems didn’t exist. I was a chapter and a half in when the heroine on the pages walked in on her scumbag of a husband as he ploughed into his receptionist. At least we didn’t have that in common. Maybe that’s what made everything harder. It’d be easier to hate him if he had cheated. How screwed up was I? Wishing my husband cheated so I could hate him.

  Flagging down a stewardess as she scurried past, I asked for some water. After gulping it down quickly I felt a little better. Slipping my tablet away, I flicked through the movie options. Not ready to deal with another surprise, I started one I knew would be predictable. One where I knew what would happen and how it would end. Knowing I would soon be touching down in South Africa, I grabbed my pillow, tucked the thin cotton blanket under my chin and settled back as the sun dawned over Pride Rock as The Lion King began.

  “Excuse me, miss.” A hand touched my shoulder jolting me out of a really great dream.

  “Huh.” I swiped at my chin feeling the dampness there. The sleeping tablet I’d had might have taken longer than I liked, but once it kicked in, I was down for the count.

  “We’re preparing to land. Can you please put your seat in the upright position?”

  “Uh, yep. Sure.” Trying to function as I was just waking up wasn’t pretty. I needed coffee, a shower, and a toothbrush.

  Even though the stewardess had moved on to the row in front of me, I asked if I could still get up. As soon as she nodded, I was unclicking my seatbelt and hurrying to the bathroom. After cleaning up, I started to feel a little bit more like myself. As I shuffled back to my seat, the adrenaline kicked in. I was about to land in Africa. A place that had been on my bucket list since I was a little girl reading books about the beauty and the magnificence of the elephants. Seeing an elephant in the wild would be the ultimate. I didn’t care if I stepped off the plane and saw one meandering down the runway; I’d happily sit back down in my seat and take a flight straight back home. I would’ve seen everything I wanted to see.

  By the time we were safely on the ground, cleared immigration and collected my bag, I felt like I’d run a marathon. Obviously, my excitement had kicked in a couple of hours early. Being bumped and jostled, I made my way out into the open expanse of the Johannesburg airport and looked around wondering what the hell I was supposed to do next. While leaving home without a plan or an itinerary seemed like a good idea at the time, now though, the anxiety was creeping through.

  Digging through my handbag, I searched for my phone. With every passing minute, I was getting more and more flustered. Just when I was about to upend my bag and let the entire contents roll all over the tiled floor, I stopped and looked around. I was surrounded by people hugging their loved ones, squeals of excitement. Then there was me. Standing there, all alone. There was no one waiting for me. The desire to burst into tears was overwhelming. Unshed tears filled my eyes, blurring my vision. My heart was pounding. I needed a hug. I needed someone to tell me everything would be okay. Someone to reassure me that this wasn’t a mistake. That everything would work out in the end. And if it didn’t, it wasn’t the end. Pushing the errant strands of oily hair from my face, I spotted a man who instantly became my hero. He was standing on the edge of the crowd wearing navy pants and a crisp, white shirt. He was staring at his phone, but it didn’t matter. In his other hand he held up a piece of cardboard with a black swirl at the top. But what gave me hope, what made me smile, written in ugly black marker was my name. Maggie Sanford. Heaving a sigh of relief, I regathered my bags and my wits and headed towards him.

  “Ms. Sanford?”

  “Hi.”

  “I’m John. I’m here to collect you and take you to your hotel.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was asked to give you this.” He handed me a linen envelope. Inside was a note written in immaculate handwriting on equally amazing paper. It was an inside joke that only Kristie would know. One of those embarrassing stories from my early teen years which had a smile stinging my cheeks.

  Without another word, he reached for my suitcase and travel bag before leading me towards the exit. Outside it was already dark and, despite the long, deep nap I’d indulged in on the plane, I wasn’t about to deny the appeal of falling into an actual bed and stretching out. A moment later, he ushered me to the awaiting black sedan, and handed me a bottle of water before closing the door. Part of me knew I was being stupid for getting in a car with a complete stranger without sharing more than a handful of words, but I trusted Kristie implicitly.

  “I’ve been asked to bring you to the InterContinental and help you get settled.”

  That surprised me a little. I never would’ve booked something this fancy for myself. My style tended to be more like cheap and clean. Twenty minutes later and I was ready to leave everything in my will to Kristie as I flopped onto the fluffy pillow-topped mattress. There were more useless, decorative pillows piled on this bed than I even owned.

  After a long, hot shower, I splurged on room service and logged into
my email. As promised, waiting for me was the information from Kristie. Not only had she booked me this incredible room but she’d added the late check out. And when I did eventually check out, someone would be waiting to whisk me away for ten days at a game reserve. Although she gave me the name of the lodge I was headed to, I resisted Googling. She hadn’t let me down yet. I had no reason to believe anything should change now.

  After stuffing handfuls of fries in my mouth in a most unladylike fashion, I turned down the thermostat before snuggling down amongst the blankets.

  When I woke the next morning, I felt refreshed, rejuvenated and bouncing with excitement. The only problem was it was barely six in the morning and my driver wasn’t arriving until after midday. Sitting on top of the giant cloud-like mattress I’d slept on, I flicked through the hotel information pamphlet. All it took was one look at the pictures of the Health Spa and I was out of bed and pulling on the bikini Kristie had insisted I throw in. When I managed to finally wiggle it into place, I was pleasantly surprised it still fit. I could barely remember the last time I’d even considered wearing one.

  Floating around, completely alone in the pool looking out onto the runway, I was at peace. I’d have to thank Kristie for this later. Or maybe I wouldn’t. I’m sure it would just go to her head.

  Leaning against the edge, watching as the huge aircraft barrelled down the runway, I hadn’t heard anyone come in, so when the waves rippled the water, I spun around with a scowl. How dare someone interrupt my solitude?

  When the swimmer reached the end of the pool, I was expecting them to stop and take a breath. Instead, he just tumble-turned like a pro, pushed off and kept stroking. Hypnotised by his rhythmic laps, I couldn’t drag my eyes away. I had no idea what his face looked like or who he was but what I did know; I was intrigued. He had shoulders I wanted to cling to. Every time he tumbled, I caught a glimpse of his spandex-covered butt, and it was definitely something to be admired. And admire I did.