The Accidental Honeymoon

by Portia MacIntosh

  I notice a fur throw hanging over the back of the sofa. If I can just grab it with my toes I can pull it over my body, wake Jack up, make my excuses and get out of here before the inevitable awkward conversation that is sure to follow.

  I finally manage to spread the throw out, covering the parts of my body I’d rather Jack didn’t see, just in time before he wakes up.

  ‘Good morning,’ he says brightly before wincing. ‘Ouch,’ he laughs, raising his hand to his head. ‘That’ll be the bourbon.’

  ‘Hi,’ I say weakly. ‘I, er, I need to get up and go to school.’

  Jack looks at me, puzzled.

  No, we haven’t flashed back in time, JJ Abrams doesn’t have creative control over my life.

  ‘I’ve just been thinking. I should probably go see my Auntie Di, apologise for last night,’ I explain. ‘See if she can smooth things over between me and Fliss before the rehearsal dinner tonight.’

  ‘Yeah, good idea,’ he says. ‘You want me to come with you?’

  ‘No, no,’ I insist, a little too quickly. ‘You go to the hotel, check us in and I’ll meet you there later.’

  ‘OK,’ Jack says brightly, although it seems a little put on. I think he’s suddenly picking up on the incredibly awkward atmosphere. ‘You want some breakfast before you go?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I insist, again, too quickly. ‘She’s deputy head at the local secondary school. I remember her saying last night she had to pop in for half a day today. I should probably try to catch her during morning break,’ I add, hoping he doesn’t think I’m rushing off because of him. Even though I am. Because I can’t face getting friend-zoned and talking about divorces this morning.

  ‘OK,’ he says again. ‘I’m going to go grab a drink and, er, give you some privacy, I guess.’

  I guess that means he’s noticed I’m holding this cover practically up to my eyes.

  ‘Yeah, catch you later,’ I call after him as he leaves the room.

  I wrap the fur throw around me like a toga before dashing upstairs to get dressed.

  What a difference a week makes. Last week, the most exciting thing that happened in the bedroom was trying to find the remote, lost in the bed during a Netflix binge. I was engaged. All of my outfits covered my knees. And now, here I am, an absolute hot mess with fake hair, fake nails and a fake life that I’m peddling to my nearest and dearest. Oh, and I’m sleeping with emotionally unavailable men because I’m a rebounding idiot. If you’re going to destroy your self-confidence, you might as well completely obliterate it.

  I get dressed and leave without so much as hollering goodbye to Jack as I close the door, which doesn’t feel great, but I’m scared to talk to him.

  My auntie works at the secondary school Fliss and I attended growing up – the one Jacob is currently studying for his A-levels at. As I approach the school gates, a wave of memories comes flooding back. That’s the tree where the rebellious kids used to smoke. That’s the wall we used to throw a tennis ball against when we were bored. Over there is the corner Howard and I used to sneak around so we could kiss without an audience.

  I hear the breaktime bell sound before a swarm of children pours from the double doors with an urgency they probably didn’t display on their way in earlier this morning. I wait for the stream of kids to slow down before dashing inside.

  I suppose it’s a risky move, that could somehow land me on some kind of register if it goes wrong, but my plan is to just wander inside and hope she’s in her office.

  The school hasn’t changed much since I attended and I know where the deputy head’s office is, so she’s bound to be there… I hope.

  It’s like swimming against the tide as I push my way in, but I finally find myself in the main corridor. Students and teachers are moving around the school, but no one is giving me a second glance. I notice a couple of my old teachers, but no one recognises me, which means I must have changed quite a bit in recent years.

  In a matter of minutes I am outside Di’s office – I know it’s hers for sure because her name is on the door. I can’t see inside because the windows are covered in paper, to give her some privacy when she’s chewing out kids, I imagine, but I can tell someone is inside because I can see light shining around the edges of the glass.

  I knock on the door nervously (old habits die hard) and wait until she says so before I open it. Di doesn’t look up as I walk through the door, continuing to read whatever is on the piece of paper in her hand.

  ‘Hello,’ I say as I gingerly take a seat on the other side of her desk.

  Di must immediately recognise my voice because she looks up straight away.

  ‘Georgina, what are you doing here?’ she asks, getting that little bit angrier after each word she utters.

  ‘I came to talk to you.’

  ‘Who let you in?’

  ‘I sort of let myself in.’ I giggle nervously, but my auntie isn’t amused.

  ‘Georgina, you can’t just walk into a school. No one knows if you’re a paedophile or a gun-wielding maniac – you could get in big trouble. What were you thinking?’

  ‘In reply to that, all I can say is that perhaps you need to assess certain security issues you may or may not have. I didn’t shimmy up the drainpipe and drop in through an air vent – I walked in through an open door.’

  ‘Look, what do you want?’ she asks, clearly annoyed at my take on school security.

  ‘I just wanted to apologise for last night,’ I say sincerely. ‘I heard Fliss talking about strippers earlier that day, and I completely misunderstood the situation. I thought she was hinting she wanted one – she wasn’t – and then I only booked one to make her happy. And I’m sorry for the, er, calibre of gentleman I booked. But it was last-minute and there was a degree of dishonesty on his part.’

  ‘Any more excuses?’ my auntie asks.

  ‘They’re not excuses,’ I insist. ‘I’m just trying to explain. We were all chatting, and Kaz said we should—’

  ‘If Kaz said you should jump off a cliff, would you do it?’ my auntie asks, in full-on teacher mode.

  ‘I didn’t come to make excuses,’ I tell her. ‘I came here to apologise, and see if you’ll speak to Fliss and tell her how sorry I am, so there’s no awkwardness tonight.’

  ‘Well, I can’t make any promises,’ my auntie says. ‘But I’ll try.’

  ‘That’s all I can ask for,’ I reply. ‘I’ll get going then.’

  ‘Yes,’ my auntie says. ‘Try not to commit any more crimes on your way out, please.’

  I leave the school just as the kids are slowly shuffling back inside for their next lesson. As I exhale deeply and run my hands through my hair, out of the corner of my eye I notice my little brother sitting on the wall with Becka – and they’re holding hands. We make eye contact and Jacob smiles at me before going all embarrassed because he’s with a girl. He says something to her and then wanders over to me.

  ‘Hey, you,’ I say cheerily.

  ‘Hi,’ he replies. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I came to see Auntie Di,’ I tell him. He doesn’t need to know the weird details. ‘I see Becka is here,’ I point out with a smile.

  ‘She came to meet me for lunch,’ he whispers. ‘Don’t tell Mum, but I just asked her to be my girlfriend and she said yes.’

  ‘That’s great news,’ I shriek as I grab my little bro for a big hug.

  ‘Get off,’ Jacob laughs as he struggles free. ‘People can see!’

  ‘Whatever. I’m happy for you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jacob tells me.

  ‘What for? Embarrassing you in front of the squad?’ I tease, nodding towards his friends who are nearby.

  ‘No, for giving me the confidence to ask Becka out. I couldn’t have done it without you,’ he says sincerely.

  Oh God, my tiny brother is growing up. It seems like just yesterday he was sitting in his bedroom with his mates building toy aeroplane models… well, actually, that was just yesterday, but the fact he has a
girlfriend is enough to shock me into realising that not only is he growing up, but I am way older than I see myself.

  ‘Come here,’ I say, grabbing him again for another hug.

  ‘Georgie, get off,’ he chuckles as he tried to wiggle free again.

  ‘Jake,’ Becka calls over.

  ‘Coming,’ he calls back.

  ‘Oh, you let her call you Jake,’ I reply as I give him a playful shove. ‘Go on, go get us those As your sister never managed,’ I say, mocking my mum’s voice.

  ‘Bye,’ he replies, running off to join his girlfriend and his mates.

  At least someone’s love life is going well.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The second I arrive at the hotel, and my mum tells me that Jack, Olly and Dougie are at the hotel casino, my heart jumps into my mouth.

  The Majestic is the big, beautiful, Vegas-style everything under one roof hotel it claims to be, except, you know, a Blackpool-y version.

  Walking through the grand, golden doorway into the casino, I scan the room for the boys. Almost everything is green or gold – or, at the very least, covered with a generous dusting of gold glitter.

  My best guess, that the boys are probably at the poker tables, is correct. Thankfully Dougie is playing, while Jack and Olly spectate.

  ‘Can I borrow Jack for a minute?’ I ask, after greeting the boys.

  ‘Sure,’ he says. ‘I’m just hanging around to advise Doug, I’m not playing.’

  ‘Good. I was worried when I saw you.’

  ‘Hey, we’re like a proper married couple – you’re playing the nagging wife well,’ he jokes, but his words make me wince because we are like a proper married couple now.

  ‘So, you’re friends again?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve been giving him a few hints and teaching him a few tricks to make him a better player,’ Jack tells me.

  It’s nice to see them all getting along.

  ‘Listen, we need to talk,’ I tell him, cutting to the chase.

  ‘We do,’ he replies. ‘Don’t think I didn’t realise how weird you were this morning.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ I start. ‘It’s just…’

  My voice trails off as I notice Jack staring at a girl standing next to one of the poker tables. She’s a tall, leggy, brunette – another one. My mind darts back to the girls in the airport who made his head practically Exorcist, and that girl he was probably flirting with last night.

  ‘Yeah, just ignore me and check out chicks,’ I say sarcastically.

  ‘Georgie, shh.’

  ‘Oh my God, don’t shush me,’ I snap.

  Jack walks away from me to get a better look at this girl. I cannot believe my eyes – a matter of hours after sleeping with me, he’s already on to the next chick.

  ‘Gi,’ Olly calls me over. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I lie.

  As Jack walks back towards me, I notice the concerned look on his face.

  ‘So, that couple over there are cheating,’ he says under his breath. ‘Watch them for a second.’

  ‘I don’t see anything,’ Olly says.

  ‘So, our lady over there has some cards hidden in her purse – she must have pocketed them at some point. Her dude looks at his cards and if he wants something different, he gives her a signal.’

  We watch Jack’s narration play out in front of us. When you know what you’re looking for, it’s actually pretty obvious.

  ‘Then, watch as she leans over to give him a supportive kiss. She swaps the cards. It’s genius, really. The misdirection with the kiss, bending over in that low-cut top – look, the dealer can’t take his eyes off her chest.’

  ‘You some kind of expert in cheating?’ Olly laughs.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jack replies. ‘I work… I work hard, tinkling the ivories, so when I’m not at work, I like to go to casinos.’

  An absolutely shocking save there by Jack Bolton – almost an own goal.

  ‘Right,’ Olly replies.

  ‘I’m going to go tell the manager,’ Jack says.

  ‘Whoa,’ Olly says, placing an arm out to stop him. ‘No one likes a grass, mate.’

  ‘A what?’ Jack asks.

  ‘A tattletale,’ I tell him. ‘Excuse my brother, he’s painfully northern.’

  ‘Olly, casinos haemorrhage money thanks to cheaters. The dealer doesn’t give a shit, they’ve got that camera on the ceiling that’s obviously pointing all the way over there – I doubt anyone is even watching it, and if they are, they should be fired.’

  ‘All right, Ocean’s Eleven,’ Olly laughs.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ I tell Jack. ‘We still need to finish our conversation.’

  ‘Hey,’ Jack says brightly to the receptionist. ‘So, there’s a guy in your casino robbing you blind right now. Is your casino manager around?’

  The receptionist simply blinks at him for a moment before slowly snapping into action.

  ‘Er, Frank,’ she calls out. ‘FRANK!’

  ‘What’s up, love?’ he asks in a strong, deep Lancashire accent – possibly the strongest I’ve heard since I arrived.

  ‘This bloke says the casino is being robbed,’ she tells him.

  ‘Sir, can you come with me?’ Frank says, almost angrily.

  ‘I’ll wait here,’ I call after him. You know, in case he needs a lawyer or something.

  A minute goes by. Then five. Then fifteen. And with each second that passes, I grow increasingly anxious about what I’m going to say to Jack. Do I just get straight to the point and tell him the sex meant nothing, before he can say it to me? Does he realise our night of passion means we’re for-real married now? I don’t know if he does, or if it occurred to him at the time. It certainly didn’t pop into my mind while Jack had my underwear in his mouth.

  Forty minutes later, Jack emerges from the office and spots me sitting at the bar.

  ‘I’ll have what she’s having,’ Jack tells the barman.

  ‘It’s a cosmopolitan,’ I tell him, as though he might not know that’s possibly one of the world’s girliest drinks.

  ‘I don’t care, I’m celebrating,’ he tells me. ‘I’ve got a job.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Frank says this place is losing so much money and it’s because their security team is whack. He said if I could spot that guy in a few seconds, at a glance, on the floor, then I’d be unstoppable with cameras and a team to train. I told him it used to be my job, and that I’d just resigned from my current job in Las Vegas – he doesn’t want to see my résumé, so there’s no point telling him I got fired,’ he laughs. ‘Georgie, the money they’re offering is amazing – and that’s in pounds.’

  ‘So… what?’

  ‘So, I’ve said I’ll take it. I’m going to stay here. I have this great job opportunity, I can be near my Aunt Bet – I need to start again.’

  ‘You don’t need to start again, you need to go home and end our mistake of a marriage.’

  ‘Georgie, listen,’ he starts, taking a seat on the bar stool next to me. ‘News travels fast in Vegas, everyone knows everyone – after getting fired, no one there is going to hire me. I can forget about it. I’m not getting a good reference either. This job is being offered to me on a plate: it’s perfect, it’s good money. This is what I need to turn my life around.’

  ‘I appreciate that,’ I tell him – because I do. ‘But you can’t stay here. Blackpool isn’t that big and Dougie is a regular at this casino. People will see you. Orchestral pianists don’t just up and quit their jobs and move to Blackpool to be glorified security guards. And what about us? We break up and you move to my hometown? No. You can’t.’

  Jack runs a hand through his hair.

  ‘Princess, no disrespect, but it’s nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Jack, listen, we need to go back as soon as the wedding is finished and get this annulment – you know what happened last night consummated our marriage, right?’

  ‘So what?’ he laughs. ‘You know they can�
��t check that, right? Who’s going to tell them we had sex? You? You going to go in bragging? “Oh, look at me, my name is Georgie, my fiancé cheated on me so I lured some poor sucker into bed and then ran a mile from him the next day.”’

  ‘Is that supposed to be my voice?’ I shriek. ‘And even if that is what happened, it’s only what you do to poor, female tourists in Vegas.’

  Jack immediately knocks back the drink placed down in front of him.

  ‘You know, you keep saying that, and I feel like it’s something you’ve just decided is true,’ he says. ‘It isn’t.’

  ‘You’re the one who said you’ve never had a real girlfriend,’ I point out.

  ‘Yeah, and did you ever think there might be a reason for that?’ he asks me. ‘Huh? You ever think that everyone I’ve ever loved is dead and I’m all alone in the world? Maybe I don’t wanna lose anyone else, and maybe I don’t want anyone I care about to lose me.’

  ‘Whatever,’ I snap. ‘You expect me to believe that psychoanalytical bullshit?’

  ‘Believe what you want,’ he says. ‘I’m taking this job. You sort your mess out however you want. Tell people we argued and broke up, tell people I cheated on you – tell them I died in a plane crash when you forced me back to Vegas to annul our drunken marriage. I don’t care.’

  I sip my drink, carefully thinking about the next words to come out of my mouth.

  ‘I don’t think you should come to the rehearsal dinner tonight,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll tell people you’re not well.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ he says. ‘This week has been exhausting. I need a break from you and your fake feelings and your Stanley Kubrick-style of directing.’