The Accidental Honeymoon

by Portia MacIntosh

  Out in the street, I spy Dick Cumming having a cigarette. Thankfully he’s put his pants on, and his shirt, although that remains unbuttoned.

  ‘Your picture could do with updating,’ I tell him.

  ‘Your friend could do with lightening up,’ he replies.

  ‘I know. Well, my great auntie-in-law loved your routine, so you were worth every penny.’

  ‘Cheers,’ he replies. ‘Hey, my eyes are up here.’

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ I insist. ‘It’s just… your abs are fascinating.’

  ‘Have a poke,’ he says. ‘Yeah, go on, touch them.’

  I prod the stripper in the tummy. Christ, they’re rock solid.

  ‘So, they kicked you out, too, eh? What you gonna do now?’

  ‘Probably go to the stag do,’ I admit. ‘You wanna come?’

  ‘Go on then,’ he says. ‘Got the night off now, haven’t I?’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Illuminate, like everything else in Blackpool, wasn’t here when I moved way.

  When I text Jack to find out where they are, he responds to say they’re at Illuminate, a club in the heart of town. I can see the neon sign outside from ten minutes’ walk away, it’s so bright. Inside, there are lights everywhere. Strobe lights, a disco ball, a large neon flamingo… this place is literally lit.

  I’ve brought Dick with me, because why not? I’m not even sure Dick is his real name, but it’s the only one I have for him, so that’s what I’ve been calling him.

  We stopped at an off licence on the way, picking up a couple of bottles of something to knock back during the walk. Because we’re classy like that. However, this, on top of the two strong porn-star martinis I had at Naughty Nellie’s, has left me rather drunk.

  Once inside, I scour the place for Jack. After wandering around for a few minutes, I finally bump into a familiar face.

  ‘Howard,’ I blurt.

  ‘Georgie, what are you doing here?’ he asks.

  If I’m being completely honest, I’d kind of forgotten about Howard. I don’t know if Jack was right, that I was just so scared to be alone I was reaching out to Howard and trying to cling on to him to get my old life back.

  ‘I got kicked out of the hen party,’ I admit. ‘This is Dick, by the way.’

  ‘Hi, Dick,’ Howard says, offering him a hand to shake. ‘Are you on duty?’

  For the most part, Dick is still wearing his police uniform.

  ‘Erm, no, not right now,’ Dick laughs.

  ‘Hey, have you seen Jack?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, he’s around somewhere,’ Howard says. ‘Probably surrounded by a gaggle of girls.’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Jack, he’s er, popular with the ladies,’ Howard clarifies tactfully. ‘Oh, there he is.’

  I glance over to see Jack standing with three girls. One of them, a tall, leggy brunette AKA my polar opposite, seems especially keen on Jack, hanging off every word he says. I watch as she laughs at something, wrapping her hand around one of his biceps.

  ‘Excuse me a minute,’ I say.

  ‘No to worry, I’m gonna go get us a drink,’ Dick tells me.

  I walk over to Jack, only catching his eye once I’m in front of him.

  ‘Hi,’ I say brightly.

  ‘Georgie,’ he says. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Who is she?’ the leggy brunette asks rudely.

  ‘She is his wife,’ I tell her with a flash of my engagement ring – because that makes sense. To prove my point, I grab Jack by the face and kiss him.

  ‘Whoa,’ he says when I finally let him go. ‘You, er… you OK?’

  ‘Yep,’ I reply. Why did I do that? I looked over, saw these girls talking to him and got so jealous I came over here to sabotage things. Why did I do that?!

  Dick walks over with two shots and stands next to us.

  ‘Is everything OK, officer?’ Jack asks him, confused as to why he’s standing there.

  ‘This is Dick,’ I tell him. ‘He’s my stripper buddy.’

  Dick hands me a shot, which I knock back immediately.

  ‘You wanna dance?’ Dick asks.

  I place my empty glass in Jack’s hand.

  ‘Yep,’ I reply.

  Dick drags me out onto the dance floor. As we’re dancing, I notice Jack staring at me. I think that kiss confused him. He’s probably trying to work out why I did it, too.

  I know he’s my husband, but he’s not my husband. He has every right to talk to whomever he wants… So why do I feel so jealous?

  As though things weren’t complicated enough, Howard comes over and interrupts.

  ‘Georgie, can I have a word, please?’

  ‘Sure,’ I reply. As Howard takes me by the hand and leads me off, I look over at Jack, who is watching us like hawk. Good, let him. Let’s see how he likes it, watching his spouse flirting with someone else right in front of his face.

  ‘What’s up?’ I ask Howard.

  ‘Look, I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but watching you kiss Jack drives me crazy. Not just because I miss you, but because I know he’s cheated on you before, and I know he’ll do it again,’ Howard rants.

  He places a hand lightly on my face, cupping my cheek as he looks into my eyes. I stare back at him, willing my brain to act a little quicker and figure out what I’m supposed to say.

  ‘Everything OK, Gi?’ I hear a voice ask from behind me.

  I spin round to see Olly, looking at me with a puzzled yet concerned look.

  ‘Yeah, it’s fine,’ I tell him. ‘Can you give us a minute?’

  ‘Sure,’ he replies. ‘Whatever. Just thought you’d want to know that Jack just stormed out.’

  ‘What?’ I ask,

  ‘Jack – your fiancé. He told me he’d seen the two of you go off together, and that he was going home.’

  I grab my phone from my bag, only to see my battery die before my eyes. Shit.

  ‘Georgie,’ Howard starts, grabbing my arm. ‘Just, let him go, let’s go back to mine. We can talk things over.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  One of the best things about going out with Howard was always having someone to walk me home after a night out. We’d go out, take a nice romantic stroll home and then share a kiss goodnight. But because we were on our doorsteps, we felt we could bend the rules with our curfews a little, so we’d often go and sit in the tree house, just because we didn’t want to be apart, not even overnight.

  Walking home with Howard just now has caused all of these memories to storm to the forefront of my mind. I feel like a teenager again.

  We’ve walked, for the most part, in awkward silence. Other than brief exchanges about how it’s still so warm considering it’s so late, and how cyclists need to decide if they’re bikes or they’re cars – they can’t have it both ways – we haven’t had much to say to each other, just this horrible, awkward small talk or absolute silence.

  We stop at the bottom of our driveways, just like we used to.

  ‘Look, I meant what I said before,’ Howard starts. ‘I know what it’s like to be cheated on, and I know how easy it is to think you can move on from it, but it will happen again, and you don’t deserve it.’

  I appreciate his concern. He wants to look after me, rather than letting me go off with my lying, cheating fiancé. Except Jack isn’t a liar or a cheat, and he might not be my fiancé, and other than technically, he’s not really my husband. But he is my friend, and if something has upset him, then trying to find him is all that’s important. I’m pretty sure. I’m still a bit drunk.

  ‘It means so much to me that you still care about me, especially after all this time, and the way I left you all those years ago,’ I start. ‘But, things with Jack, they’re complicated. I know you think he’s hurt me, but he’s a good person – maybe the best person I know. I know this probably makes no sense, and I’m not sure what the hell is going on my head… but all I can think about is Jack. All the time. And I didn’t really realise it until just now, and I don’t know h
ow to begin to tell him.’

  Howard stares at me for a second, a look of sheer confusion plastered across his face.

  ‘I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he says. ‘But I respect your decision.’

  Howard kisses me gently on the cheek before heading inside.

  ‘What the fuck is happening?’ I ask myself.

  The street is completely silent. It’s late, so everyone is in bed, and thanks to the beautiful summer weather, you can’t hear so much as a breeze rustling through the trees. I feel so alone, yet so at peace out here. There’s no one to keep up any act for, no one to argue with, and no one to look at and wonder: do I have feelings for this person?

  Still, I should probably go inside, charge my phone up and call Jack. Although what I’ll say to him, I have no idea.

  Could I have feelings for him? Is that why I got so upset when I saw those girls flirting with him? Is that why I’ve suddenly lost interest in Howard? Is that why, for a few days now, whenever I’ve thought about John, all I’ve focused on is how rubbish things were, rather than missing him and wondering what I’ll do without him like I did initially? Or am I just so used to pretending to be in love with Jack that my body is getting confused? Maybe, because he’s acting like this perfect specimen of a man, my brain is daring to think he likes me, when it knows deep down that I am paying him to pretend to be in love with me. If there are two thoughts I cannot get out of my mind for long, it’s that A: Jack doesn’t do commitment and B: he’s completely out of my league.

  Walking up the garden path, I am snapped from my thoughts by a noise. I stop dead in my tracks, listening carefully. There it is again, a hiccup.

  ‘Hey,’ I hear Jack say.

  I glance around but he’s nowhere to be seen. Oh God, am I that drunk, or am I that obsessed with him that I’ve started hearing his voice?

  ‘Down here,’ he says.

  Glancing around, I finally notice Jack lying on the lawn. He’s got one hand behind his head, while the other is clutching a bottle of something.

  ‘What are you doing down there?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t have any keys,’ he says, looking up at the stars. ‘I do have bourbon, though. Want some?’

  I’ve never really been a big fan of bourbon, but I don’t know what else to do.

  ‘Sure,’ I say, getting down on the floor next to him. I take a swig of his drink before lying down, resting my head on his shoulder.

  ‘I heard your conversation with Howard,’ he admits. ‘I wasn’t spying, I was just here.’

  ‘Oh,’ is about all I can reply.

  Jack exhales deeply.

  ‘Maybe I’ve had too much to drink, maybe this is a huge mistake… But, just forget all the bullcrap for a minute. Forget the stories, forget the staged kisses, forget the wedding. The day I met you, there was something about you I just liked. Do you think I usually spent my time at work watching the CCTV, following any pretty girl who caught my eye?’

  Kind of.

  ‘No,’ he continues. ‘That day, I noticed you because you were beautiful, and I kept watching you because I was worried about you, and after that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Then, when I lost my job, and I was convinced I had nothing left, there you were again. You spoke to me, you shared your problems with me, you were real and I liked that. And since, we’ve spent so much time together, telling so many lies, doing so much for show… I don’t know what I’m doing for real and what I’m doing for money any more.’

  Jack lifts his head and takes a swig from the bottle, which has taken quite a hammering already.

  ‘I know,’ I agree. ‘I don’t know what’s happening.’

  Jack lifts his arm, extending it so I can rest my head on his chest. As I do, he hooks his arm around me and squeezes me tightly.

  ‘How are we supposed to figure this out?’ I ask.

  ‘I have an idea,’ Jack says, switching from subdued to having this surge of energy as he lifts himself up before getting on top of me. As Jack presses his body down on top of me, I feel my breathing deepen. I fidget with my long fingernails nervously, as we gaze into each other’s eyes.

  ‘What now?’ I ask.

  ‘Now this,’ he tells me, taking my hands and holding them to the ground above my head as he moves forward to kiss me. Just like last time, I lean in to his kiss, suddenly aware of how desperate I’ve been to feel his lips on mine again. It’s a little different this time, though. This time there’s this sense of urgency.

  I wrap my legs around his waist tightly as we kiss, completely forgetting my surroundings. That is until the loud bark of a dog causes us to stop suddenly.

  ‘Shit,’ I say out loud. ‘That was, er…’

  ‘Yeah, sorry, I’m not sure what came over me,’ Jack says, letting go of my wrists before climbing to his feet. He holds out a hand to pull me up. ‘We should go inside. Talk like mature adults.’

  ‘We should,’ I agree.

  Once we’re inside the dark hallway, Jack takes another swig from the bottle before placing it down on the side. The second front door is closed we both feel for each other in the darkness and immediately pick up where left off.

  It’s that kind of frantic, red-hot kiss two people share when they finally get together, the kind I thought only existed in movies.

  I’m not sure who makes the first move, but as I unbutton Jack’s trousers, he unhooks my dress from my shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor before ripping off his own shirt, sending a few buttons flying through the air.

  As we continue to kiss, Jack lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he pushes me back hard against the door, causing a loud bang as I knock an ornamental duck from the sideboard, which hits the floor and shatters into a thousand pieces.

  You know in movies when you see someone fire a gun into the air in the hope that the loud noise will stop whatever chaos is going on? Hearing that poor little duck smash to the ground is our warning shot.

  We stop kissing and try to catch our breath as we look at one another, both in our underwear, me still pressed up against the door with my legs wrapped tightly around Jack’s waist.

  ‘We should stop, shouldn’t we?’ he says breathlessly.

  ‘We should,’ I reply as I run my hands through Jack’s previously perfect hair, unable to keep my hands off him. He closes his eyes and gasps quietly with a combination of pleasure and what I’d guess is a week’s worth of sexual frustration.

  ‘Couch then?’ he suggests. I nod my head.

  Jack carries me the short distance to the living room before laying me down on the sofa gently. He stops for a second, to swipe away remote controls, magazines and my mum’s knitting work in progress (a jumper, for Olly and Sara’s baby), before our frantic kissing resumes.

  Jack turns his attention to kissing my neck, slowly licking and sucking his way down to my chest, before moving gently down my body. As he gets to my knickers he takes them gently in his teeth as he pulls them down slightly.

  I can’t help but giggle.

  ‘You OK?’ he asks.

  ‘Yeah, sorry,’ I insist. ‘Just ticklish.’

  The reality of the situation is that I’m not used to having so much focus placed on me and it’s making me nervous.

  ‘Relax,’ he insists, gently massaging my thighs with his hands.

  I’m trying to but, for God’s sake, look at him. He’s like a statue of Hercules, except one with a hipster haircut and a pair of Primark underpants that look like they’re about to be Hulked-off. He’s perfect and I’m me. Short, squashy in places, self-conscious…

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ I mumble. ‘Where’s that bourbon?’

  Jack laughs, dashing into the hallway to grab the bottle.

  He has a drink before passing it to me.

  ‘Here,’ he says. ‘Just relax. Nothing bad is going to happen.’

  I take a long swig from the bottle, gasping at the strong taste after swallowing.

  ‘OK,’ I say, placing the bottle
down before lying back on the sofa. ‘Do your worst.’

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Is that someone knocking at the door? I listen carefully for a second. No, it’s not, it’s the sound of my poor brain banging against my skull.

  Oh God, why did I drink so much last night? And it’s not exactly like that was my biggest faux pas of the evening, was it? Getting kicked out of my cousin’s hen party for inviting an ageing, sexed-up stripper to a tearoom is probably top of the list. I’m definitely going to have to do some kind of damage control for that little incident today – lest I find myself uninvited to the wedding.

  Crashing the stag do probably wasn’t too bright either. I’m pretty sure I upset Howard, and… oh shit.

  Lying here, thinking what a mess I’ve made, it did occur to me I’ve been sleeping at a funny angle, but until now I have credited my hangover with my discomfort. I wait for a second, for my brain and my memory to synchronise, painting a picture of last night that is increasing in clarity by the second.

  I open my eyes and, yep, I’ve slept on the sofa, on top of Jack, completely naked. Suddenly every single detail about last night comes crashing back, giving my headache a surge of power that reaches a whole new level of pain.

  Jack looks so peaceful, still fast asleep. I – glancing down at my body – am lying at such an angle, I’m giving off beached-whale vibes. You know those pictures you see of seemingly skinny models on Instagram showing off how they look when they pose, versus the very slight ‘rolls’ they have when they sit down? Like that, but with bigger rolls.

  Now I have the big problem of wanting to move and run away from this situation immediately, but at the same time not wanting Jack to see me completely naked in the harsh light of day.

  Why did I have sex with him? Why? Why? There’s so much wrong with this. The obvious fact that he must sleep with girls and then never speak to them again, given that he’s never had a girlfriend, even though he’s so clearly a ladies man, is going to pretty much be all it takes to finish off my last remaining shreds of self-confidence, but on top of that – am I paying for this? Like, is this included in the $12k I’m going to be handing over at the end of all this? Have I stooped so low now that my sex life involves paying men who are much hotter than me to sleep with me? All of this is bad, but the worst thing of all is that in one, silly moment of drunken lust and weakness, I have consummated the marriage I was only a matter of days away from annulling. Just like that, my marriage is completely valid, and in the eyes of the law I now need a proper divorce, which is going to be messy, and embarrassing, and there goes the stupid, romantic notion I’d been hanging on to that I’d marry once, for life.