The Longest Holiday

by Paige Toon

  ‘Yeah. Her mother died a few years ago, so she lives with her dad to take care of him, but I think she’ll get her own place soon.’

  Unease settles over me. I’m not ready to discuss this person yet. I don’t even know her. It kills me that he does, that she’s the mother of his child.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he asks worriedly.

  ‘Not really,’ I admit. He makes to sit up, but I raise my hand. ‘Stay there. Please,’ I add.

  He obliges, but looks awkward.

  ‘Does she still fancy you, do you think?’ I ask.

  ‘No.’ He frowns and shakes his head quickly, but I don’t think he can be so sure. ‘And there’s no way . . . No way.’

  ‘What if you and I get divorced?’

  The look on his face: it’s like I’ve slaughtered his childhood kitten. ‘Don’t say that,’ he begs in what is barely more than a whisper.

  ‘What if we did?’ I press. ‘Would you and she . . .’

  ‘No. Never. It’s not like that. It was only that one night,’ he says vehemently. ‘I didn’t know what I was doing. I was off my face—’

  ‘I know,’ I interrupt. I’ve heard it all before.

  ‘I will never, ever do that to you again.’

  ‘I should hope not,’ I reply irately, my gaze finding its way to the sundeck. I wonder if Leo is back yet. ‘Look, I’m going to go home,’ I say with a sigh.

  ‘Home?’ He tuts, but doesn’t say more.

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ I say firmly.

  ‘I’m checking out at nine,’ he tells me.

  ‘I’ll come to you at eight thirty,’ I promise, climbing down from the hammock. He does the same. I hand over my glass. ‘Thanks,’ I say.

  He throws the remainder of my wine onto some nearby foliage, and I turn to walk away.

  ‘Laura . . .’ he calls. I look over my shoulder. ‘I love you.’

  I smile sadly and walk back through the hotel grounds.

  I can hear Latin music coming out of the stereo and I hug myself as I pass the yard, feeling in my heart that Leo will be there. I hurriedly push through the gate, to the sound of Max barking. He runs over to me and I bend down to pat him, then freeze, because there in the armchair is Leo, and on the sofa is Jorge, sitting between two very gorgeous girls, one of whom, the brunette closest to Leo, is smoking a cigar and grinning as though I’ve entered in the middle of a joke. I straighten up, but my feet are stuck to the ground.

  ‘Laura!’ Jorge calls jovially. Leo regards me through the smoke trailing from the cigar in his fingers, but he doesn’t say anything. ‘Come and have a drink!’ Jorge shouts.

  ‘This is good shit,’ the girl next to Leo says with a giggle. ‘Where did you get these?’

  I shake my head and walk past the sofa, anger filling every part of me.

  ‘What’s up with her?’ I hear the redhead on the other side of Jorge say in quite a bitchy tone. I run up the stairs and go into my bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

  ‘Bastard!’ I screech to myself, and if there were a brick anywhere in the vicinity I’m quite certain that I would hurl it out of the window at their little gathering.

  I can still hear the sound of Latin music coming from the garden. I hear the tinkle of a girl’s laugh and I bite my lip. The door flies open and Leo storms in. I turn my fury onto him.

  ‘You arsehole!’ I run at him and thump his chest.

  Shocked, he grabs my wrists and manhandles me into the room, kicking the door shut with his foot behind him. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he demands to know.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ I scream back at him as hot tears spill down my cheeks.

  ‘I’m not doing anything!’ he shouts, stunned, holding me at arm’s length.

  ‘That girl . . .’ I gesticulate at the window.

  ‘What about her?’ he asks with astonishment. ‘Jorge invited them back. He likes the redhead.’

  ‘And you like the brunette,’ I say, still full of white rage.

  ‘I don’t like the brunette,’ he snaps.

  My face falls and I throw myself against him, wrapping my arms around his torso. A moment later his arms encircle me and I tilt my face up to his, pressing my lips to his lips.

  ‘Laura,’ he says into my mouth.

  ‘No, no, don’t tell me to stop.’

  I kiss him fervently, over and over, taking his face in my hands, not letting him tell me no again.

  Finally he sucks in a sharp breath and gives in, lifting me off my feet and pressing my back up against the wall. I wrap my legs around his waist and slide my hands inside his T-shirt, wanting it off. Right now.

  ‘Wait,’ he says, pulling his shirt back down.

  ‘I have to be with you,’ I plead. ‘You’re the only thing that feels right about anything anymore.’

  He regards me intently. ‘Okay. But not here.’

  I unwrap my legs and stand on my own two feet. He steps away and my knees buckle, so he scoops me into his arms and carries me up the stairs to his bedroom. He lays me gently on his mattress and I pull him down to me. Our kisses that night are more tender than they’ve ever been, despite the passion of only moments earlier. We make love. That’s the God’s honest truth. It’s not just sex. Without a shadow of a doubt, I’m falling head over heels in love with Leo. And the thought terrifies the living daylights out of me.

  ‘What’s your surname?’ I ask him afterwards, surprised that I don’t already know this small fact about him.

  ‘I have two.’ He tucks my hair behind my ears. Our legs are still intertwined. ‘Garcia was my father’s surname, and Benedict was my mother’s.’

  ‘Garcia Benedict? Or Benedict Garcia?’

  ‘Garcia Benedict,’ he tells me. ‘In Cuba the mother’s surname comes last. Of course, my mother was American. When I was growing up, I was known only as Leonardo Benedict.’

  ‘You couldn’t take your father’s name?’

  ‘No.’ He looks thoughtful and I lean down and kiss his forehead. ‘What’s your surname?’ he asks, running his fingers up and down my back.

  ‘I can’t believe we haven’t already had this discussion,’ I say with half a laugh, trying to ignore the glaringly obvious fact that we really do know so very little about each other. ‘Smythson,’ I tell him, shivering under his touch. ‘Well, Perry.’ I avert my gaze. ‘Perry is Matthew’s name.’

  Leo’s fingers freeze in their tracks. He looks towards the window. ‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ he says in a gruff voice.

  ‘Don’t say that.’ I place my hand on his cheek and force him to look at me. ‘There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be right now.’

  Somehow, we oversleep. It’s hardly surprising considering we’ve spent most of the night making love, but when I realise the time I leap out of bed and pull on my clothes.

  Leo sleepily opens his eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I promised Matthew I’d go to say goodbye to him at eight thirty.’

  He looks confused. ‘What time is it now?’

  ‘Five to nine. He’s checking out at nine.’

  I sweep my hair back off my face, looking around for a hair-band I’m sure I left up here last week. I spy it on the dresser and pull my just-shagged hair up into a tight ponytail.

  ‘I’ll be back in a bit,’ I tell him regretfully.

  He nods and tucks his hands behind his head. I run out of his room and jog down the stairs.

  Max starts to bark furiously as I push open the kitchen door. Eric hasn’t left for work yet, then. He always takes his dog with him. I see Matthew standing in the middle of the garden like a statue as the dog leaps and bounds around his feet.

  ‘Max!’ I shout, but he ignores me. ‘Max! Come away!’

  Matthew is holding up his hands, as though in surrender, but I can tell he’s absolutely petrified. He was bitten by a dog when he was a boy and he’s never quite got over his fear of them.

  ‘MAX!’ I shout again as he gets to hi
s haunches and growls furiously. Then suddenly Max jumps up and nips Matthew on his elbow.

  ‘Argh!’ Matthew shouts, clutching his elbow in pain.

  The door bursts open and Leo bounds out, followed by Eric. Leo wrenches Max away by his collar and slaps him sharply on his backside. ‘Get him the hell out of here,’ he yells at Eric as the dog runs towards his owner with his tail between his legs. Eric quickly obeys, dragging Max by his collar out of the gate and no doubt straight into his car. Leo turns. His features tighten as he regards Matthew.

  Matthew, as white as a sheet with shock, is still cradling his elbow.

  ‘Come inside,’ Leo directs, giving me a hard stare as he storms past me.

  I usher Matthew into the kitchen, gathering that Leo has gone to fetch a first-aid kit. My assumption is correct. He returns when I’m applying warm water from a bowl to the wound. He opens a bottle of Dettol and sloshes some into the bowl. I glance up at him nervously, but his eyes meet mine for only a millisecond. He’s furious at me for placing him in this position. The last thing he wants is to put a face to the name of my husband. I’d be the same if I were in his shoes.

  Actually, that’s not true. I want to see again what Tessa looks like, possibly for all the wrong reasons. Maybe I’m looking for another excuse to hate Matthew. If she’s as pretty as I remember from her Facebook profile, then that would be reason enough.

  The wound is not that bad. Small, but probably quite deep, and certainly painful from the look on Matthew’s face.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ I feel awful for him.

  Leo abruptly passes me a bandage.

  ‘Thanks,’ I murmur, and gingerly wrap it around the wound.

  ‘You might want to wear a long-sleeved shirt going through customs,’ Leo suggests, and I glance at him as Matthew studies the bandaging.

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ I agree. ‘No point in drawing attention to yourself.’

  Matthew’s eyes narrow as he looks at Leo, perhaps taking him in for the first time now that the drama with Max is over.

  ‘We haven’t been introduced.’ He offers his hand. ‘Matthew.’

  Leo shakes it firmly, holding his stare for a long moment. ‘Leo,’ he replies.

  Oh, how I wish the ground would open up and swallow me.

  ‘Aah,’ Matthew says, taking his hand away, but not moving his eyes. Leo’s gaze is also unwavering. Bloody hell, they could bottle this testosterone and sell it for a fortune.

  ‘What time is your flight?’ Leo asks.

  ‘Ten thirty,’ Matthew replies evenly.

  ‘You’d better get going!’ I interject, trying to usher him back outside. He seems reluctant to leave. ‘Haven’t you got to return the rental car, too?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Matthew shrugs. ‘It’s no big deal. If I miss my flight maybe I’ll just stay on a few more days. What’s the worst that could happen?’ He glances at Leo, who flashes him a dark look.

  ‘You could lose your job,’ I say quickly. ‘Come on.’

  He allows himself to be pushed by me out of the door, but then he stands his ground, turning around to face Leo.

  ‘Does it bother you that she’s married to another man?’ he asks, his voice thick with resentment.

  I gasp in shock at his direct question.

  ‘Matthew, stop it,’ I warn.

  He glares at Leo and starts to walk off.

  ‘You made the biggest mistake of your life when you hurt her.’

  I spin around at the sound of Leo’s voice, so calm and controlled under the circumstances.

  Matthew’s features shift slightly.

  ‘Don’t I know it?’ he says, giving me a look that chills my bones. ‘I’ll see you,’ he says to me.

  I nod and fold my arms across my chest. And then he’s gone.

  Leo is too angry with me to make love to me again for several days after that altercation, but finally he concedes, allowing me back into his bed and hopefully into his heart. We return to our easy routine. But it doesn’t last long, because less than two weeks later my mother informs me that she’s coming for a visit.

  ‘Mum, don’t,’ I say firmly on the phone, trying not to give away my underlying panic.

  ‘It’s too late,’ she crows. ‘I’ve booked my ticket. I’m staying in the hotel next door.’

  ‘Did Matthew put you up to this?’

  ‘He thought it was a good idea,’ she replies sniffily. ‘You’re still seeing that Leo?’ she asks distastefully.

  ‘There is absolutely no point in you coming to see me,’ I reiterate.

  ‘We’ll see about that.’

  Bollocks.

  She stays true to her word, so I go to the airport in Key West to collect her a few days later. Jorge lets me borrow his car, because it’s slightly more presentable than Leo’s. Leo is keen to disappear to Miami, but I put a stop to that. I don’t want him going anywhere.

  ‘Goodness me, isn’t it muggy, here?’ Mum comments with distaste as we climb into the car.

  ‘You get used to it,’ I tell her.

  ‘I doubt I would.’

  ‘Just as well you’re not staying for long, then.’ I smile at her sweetly and start up the ignition.

  ‘Long enough to eat some Key Lime Pie and talk some sense into you, I hope.’

  ‘Long enough to eat some Key Lime Pie,’ I agree with the former part, but certainly not the latter.

  My mother is a slim, tall, elegant-looking woman in her late fifties, with silver-blonde, bobbed hair. She has blue eyes, like me, although hers are a little paler, and she dresses well. Growing up, I read books and saw films like Babe, where the farmer’s wife was always a round country bumpkin with rosy cheeks and a big smile. My mother is the polar opposite to this stereotype, although she does often smile. But her smiles are slightly wry, occasionally flirtatious.

  ‘Am I going to meet this Leo, then?’ she asks as we drive away from the airport.

  ‘If you want to,’ I reply casually. ‘But you’d better be nice to him.’

  ‘Oh, I will be.’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

  ‘Just be thankful your father isn’t here.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I snap.

  ‘He’s not very impressed, that’s all I’m going to say.’

  ‘What?’ I bark. ‘He doesn’t even know Leo so how can he judge him?’

  ‘Marty has filled us in, and Matthew, too, of course.’

  ‘They don’t know Leo, either,’ I say crossly. How dare they judge him? I know him. I love him. But I won’t say that out loud. Not yet, anyway.

  We arrive at the hotel and I see her to her room.

  ‘Back again!’ Mike chirps.

  ‘You should be paying me commission,’ I joke, taking the keys. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll give her the tour.’

  I lead Mum around the complex, pointing out the free water and sunscreen, and telling her about happy hour at four p.m., even though she’s not much of a drinker.

  ‘The pool looks nice,’ she says.

  ‘It is. We won’t go for dinner for another couple of hours, so do you want to go for a swim?’

  I pop back to the house to get changed. It’s looking stunning now; the blue shutters really lift its appearance. We all worked hard on it, and when it was finished, I bought champagne to celebrate. The six of us sat around and drank it together, feeling more relaxed as a group than we have in all the time I’ve been in Key West. Even Carmen seems to have chilled out around me. Maybe she realises that I’m here to stay. Well, you know, until that pesky visa runs out . . .

  I’m still debating what to do about that. My current thinking is that I’ll return to the UK for a few weeks to sort out some things – aka my marriage, or, more accurately, my divorce – and then fly back here again. This is a temporary measure. I’ll have to look into getting a proper visa soon, I know that. But this method will at least buy me a few more months. Leo will be going back to Miami at the end of the summer, which is only a coupl
e of months away, and I’m not sure how I’ll cope being in Miami with him. I still don’t like that city. But I’m willing to give it a try, however much the thought fills me with unease. What I’d really love is for us to stay here, in Key West. He could train as a dive instructor and I could work from home . . . That’s my dream, anyway. I might share it with him one day.

  Leo is in the kitchen.

  ‘Hey,’ I say warmly, sliding my arms around his waist and pressing my lips to his back.

  ‘Hi.’ He turns around and kisses me lightly on my nose. ‘Your mom arrive safely?’

  ‘Yep.’ I nod, but don’t look at him.

  ‘What are you doing for dinner?’

  ‘I’ll take her to that Italian around the corner from Duval Street. You know the one I mean?’

  ‘Yeah. Are you sure you don’t want to bring her here?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’ I screw up my nose. ‘You really want to meet my mother? You’re such a glutton for punishment.’

  He cocks his head to one side and turns back to the food he’s preparing.

  ‘Your turn to cook?’ I ask him, trying to make casual conversation.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What are you making?’

  ‘Coconut curry,’ he says with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Oh, what?’ I groan. ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.’

  ‘You’re doing it to yourself,’ he says drily.

  ‘Will you save me some?’

  ‘I might do.’

  I step up on my tiptoes and plant a kiss on his cheek, then run off upstairs to get changed.

  I still haven’t told him I love him. I’m too terrified about what he might say in response. Or, worse, what he might not say. Carmen’s words still ring in my head: ‘Leo doesn’t do love’, or something like that. He doesn’t do marriage, either, apparently. There goes my green card. I smirk at my own joke. It’s not one I’ll be sharing with anyone.

  It’s a terrible thing to say about my own mother, but I’m glad that she’s jet-lagged so I can send her to bed early. The others are in the garden when I return.

  ‘Hello!’ I chirp happily. Leo pats the space next to him and Jorge makes room for me.

  ‘How was dinner?’ he asks.