by Laura Conway
There was also a symbolic aspect to it, too. This was the first time Jackie had been back to London since she spontaneously booked a trip there almost a year ago in an attempt to surprise her then girlfriend, Megan.
Jackie had arrived at her doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, but when a tall man answered the door dressed in a suit and tie, his dark hair styled perfectly, as if he was ready for a photo shoot, Jackie froze. She could remember it like it was yesterday.
“Hello. Can I help you?” the man had asked, standing in the doorway.
Jackie’s eyes narrowed as she tried to process what she was dealing with. She knew Megan didn’t have any brothers. Her gut churned as she probed for more info, praying to anyone that would listen that this guy was a coworker, a friend, anyone but who Jackie was imagining he was. Jackie glanced down at her phone, pretending she was delivering the flowers and checking the order.
“I have a delivery for your wife,” she said, barely recognizing her own voice.
“For Megan?”
Jackie swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes. For Megan. Here you go,” she said, thrusting the flowers into his chest as she jogged down the steps, tears already streaming down her face.
The next couple of weeks went by in a blur. Jackie had half expected Megan to fly out to Spain to see her, to explain, but she never did. She never even called. It was like someone had died. One minute, Jackie was in the most satisfying relationship she’d ever been in. Yes, it was long distance, but they did spend at least a week together every month. And the next, Jackie was blindsided. The woman she’d fallen in love with was married.
Looking back, Jackie hated herself for not questioning things. Megan visited her in Spain more than Jackie flew to London, but when Jackie did come to her, they always ended up at Jackie’s place. Megan had said something about her flat being difficult to get to, and since Jackie was only in town for a few days, they might as well go to her place, which was close to Gatwick Airport. It just made sense.
Jackie never questioned it. She’d been too crazy about Megan, but that was her old life. Jackie had spent the last eleven months hating herself, cursing Megan, but she was finally over it.
She had a thriving business with her best friend, Oliver, and she loved her life in Benalmadena where there was sunshine three-hundred and twenty days of the year. She didn’t need a girlfriend to make her happy.
Jackie’s elbow banged into the armrest as the plane jolted, her waist straining against her seat belt. A flight attendant asked the few people who were ignoring the fasten your seat belt light to return to their seats.
Jackie’s stomach rolled as the plane dipped and a woman fell into her lap. Jackie’s hands were on her waist without thinking, helping break her fall and preventing her from crashing into Jackie’s lap. The blond-haired woman ended up half in her lap with one leg caught up on the arm rest.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman said, pushing her sandy hair away from her face, flashing her an embarrassed smile.
“It’s fine,” Jackie said, her hands still on her waist. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” The woman reached for the arm rest, her other hand on the back of the seat in front of them as she pulled herself up. “Thanks.” Her sea blue eyes locked onto hers for a second, and Jackie wanted to say something, but a flight attendant appeared.
“Please, mam. Return to your seat,” she said, her voice stern.
Jackie smiled as the woman turned to give her another smile as she headed towards the front of the plane, taking a seat about five or six rows away. A tingling sensation swept across Jackie’s bare arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps. When was the last time she’d had a woman in her arms?
More than a year ago. The last time she saw Megan.
Jackie pushed those thoughts away. She was officially done thinking about Megan and how fucked up that situation was. She was making a fresh start, and as Oliver kept reminding her, she was young. She was only thirty-seven years old.
She had all the time in the world, and she’d only wasted a year with Megan, although Jackie would argue that it had been two. One when they were actually together and the last year. She hated that it had taken her so long to get to this place where she was finally ready to move on. But she was. She’d sold her flat, and for Jackie, that was pretty final.
Her life was in Benalmadena now.
Chapter Three
Payton’s hands rested on the edge of the balcony wall, her silk robe smooth against her skin. She’d just had an extremely relaxing morning. She’d brought a cup of coffee out here three hours ago to watch one of the most beautiful sunrises she’d ever seen, the oranges and pinks bright against the blue ocean.
After a shower and a bowl of fruit salad for breakfast, she was ready for another cup of coffee. She swept her damp hair over one shoulder, feeling lighter this morning than she had in months.
Coming here was the right decision. When she arrived in Malaga last night, she’d taken a taxi to her father’s apartment in Benalmadena and gone straight to bed. She was tired, jet-lagged, and it was only this morning that she could relax and appreciate her surroundings. She’d make herself another coffee, sit out on the balcony, and enjoy this view.
Payton combed her fingers through her damp hair as she went into the kitchen, taking a navy and white pinstriped Yankees mug down from one of the cabinets, her hand trembling at all the memories it brought back. Her father always made sure that she had a mug with her favorite baseball team’s logo. It was something he started doing when she visited him in London for the first time, when she was fifteen.
Payton could still remember the first time her father had introduced her to tea. He’d said that if she’d grown up in England, she would’ve had her first cup years ago. She sat up on the kitchen counter in their apartment one Saturday afternoon. She was fourteen. She knew because it was one of the last ‘normal’ days before their parents announced that they were splitting up.
She’d watched him add milk and a spoon of sugar, giving it a good stir before passing her the mug. It had taken her a few cups to get used to the bitterness, but once she did, she loved it.
Payton often wondered what her life would have been like if she moved to London with her father when she was fourteen instead of staying in New York with her mother. She didn’t even remember getting the chance to decide. They’d just told her that he was going to be living in England and that she could go visit him and spend the summers with him if that was what she wanted.
Looking back, Payton would have done anything to have had those extra years with him. She should have said something. She should have put more thought into applying for law school, too. It had all just happened, and now at twenty-five years old, Payton was finally ready to start making some decisions for herself. She was tired of trying to please her mother, and her father was gone. It was time to start living for herself. She had no idea what that meant, but that’s why she was here.
There was something about the South of Spain that she’d always felt connected to. She’d loved coming here with her father. It had always been the highlight of her summer, getting to spend two or three weeks exploring Malaga with him, practicing the Spanish she was learning in high school. She should have realized that this would be emotional, coming back here without him, but Payton knew this would be good for her, even if the first few days were rough.
Payton filled the kettle and was about to switch it on when she heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. She froze, her hands gripping the edge of the cool marble countertop, hoping that she was hearing things.
Payton ran through her options. She could make some noise, let whoever it was know that there was someone here or she could stay where she was, out of sight, and find something to defend herself with.
She pulled a knife out of the wooden block sitting on the counter, her heart thumping in her chest as she crept around the counter, inching closer to the living room and the front door. Payton met a wide-eyed woman, her hands
raised as she backed up against the apartment door.
“Woah, woah,” the woman said, a half-smile on her lips as she brushed a lock of black hair away from her eyes. “There’s been some kind of a mix up.”
Payton lowered the knife just slightly. “Really? Because this looks like breaking and entering gone wrong.”
“What? No, I meant that you must have the wrong apartment. Who did you book your holiday with?”
Payton’s eyes narrowed, processing the words that came out of this woman’s mouth in that familiar London accent. It was just like her father’s.
“Wait,” the woman said, relaxing a bit as she took a few steps towards Payton. “You’re... You were on my flight. You practically fell into my lap.”
Payton’s cheeks burned, but it was her. Now, that they were just a few feet away, Payton recognized those hazel green eyes.
Payton had been embarrassed initially, but when she caught the woman’s eye on her way back to her seat, she thought she saw something there, a hint of attraction. Payton could also have been dreaming, because it had been months since she’d had another woman’s arms around her waist like that.
“Shit,” the woman said, running a hand through her shoulder length hair. “You’re not here on holiday. That’s how you got in here. You must be Payton.”
Payton’s grip on the knife tightened as she took a step back. “Alright, what’s going on here? How do you know my name?” Payton asked, her voice trembling as she spoke.
“Sorry,” the woman said, her hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry. I’m probably not making much sense. I know your father. I come in here every week and freshen up the place. Just open a few windows and bring any letters up from downstairs and leave them here. I live across the hall,” she said, motioning behind her. “Are you okay?”
Payton lowered the knife again, leaving it on the coffee table as she sunk into the white couch. She tugged at her robe, making sure it hadn’t slipped open, and crossed one leg over the other.
“Is Luke okay? This is probably the longest he’s gone without coming here, even for a few days.”
“What’s your name?” Payton asked, looking up at her.
“Jackie. Willis.”
“And you live across the hall?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I bought it seven years ago, but I’ve only recently decided to live here full time. I had that in common with Luke. We’d joke about all the things we loved about London, but yet we kept coming back here, and we were always reluctant to leave.”
“When was the last time he was here?”
Jackie’s hands moved to her waist. “It was around this time last year. Sometime in November, anyway. I remember he said that he was looking forward to spending Christmas with you in London. That’s how I knew your name,” she said, giving her a weak smile. “Well, he always talks about you, and I’ve seen a few photos over the years. He keeps a photo of you in his wallet. It just didn’t click right away.”
“Do you want to sit down?” Payton asked as she stood up, pacing the floor.
“Uh...”
“That didn’t happen,” Payton said, wiping her hand across her face. “Christmas, I mean. He um... He passed away a year ago. November fifth.”
Jackie looked like she’d been slapped across the face. Her mouth was open, but no words were coming out. “Sorry, what did you just say?”
“He died. He had a heart attack,” Payton said, studying Jackie as she almost staggered over to the couch. She sunk into the cushions, her legs incredibly tanned against the white sofa. She was wearing black shorts and a gray tank top, and Payton wondered if she should go sit beside her, comfort her. Jackie’s head was in her hands.
“I’m so sorry,” Jackie said, looking up at her with tear-filled eyes.
Payton nodded, not knowing what else to say. “Can I get you a drink? I’m not sure what’s here. Wine probably.”
“Anything. Thanks.”
Payton padded into the kitchen, bringing the knife with her. She wasn’t one for drinking at eleven o’clock in the morning, but this was one of those moments where it actually seemed like the sensible thing to do. She slid the knife back into the wooden block on her way over to the wine rack on the far side of the kitchen counter. She had three bottles of red to choose from, and she went with a Rioja. She uncorked it and took two glasses down from the white cabinets above her.
“I’m really sorry that no one told you,” Payton said as she came into the living room and sat down beside Jackie. She poured them each a generous glass. “And I probably could have done a better job of breaking the news to you,” she said, handing Jackie a glass.
She shook her head, wiping away a tear that had trickled down her cheek. “There’s no easy way to tell someone news like that. I’m just in shock,” Jackie said, taking a drink. “He couldn’t have been more than fifty.”
“He was forty-five.”
“Fucking hell. I’m so sorry,” Jackie said, her hand on Payton’s knee, but it was gone again a second later. “You must have been close.”
Payton nodded. “Hmmm. We were. It’s still sinking in, even now, a year later. We’ve always gone months without seeing each other, so I just find it hard to believe that I’m not between visits right now, that I won’t be seeing him, that I didn’t come here to see him.” Payton blinked back her own tears.
“Why did you come here? If you don’t mind me asking,” Jackie added.
“I’m trying to make a decision, about what I want to do with my life. My mother fully expects me to put my law degree to good use and work at her firm. I’ve been putting it off since I graduated, because I know that’s not what I want, but the problem is, I don’t really have an alternative. I should probably go with the steady, reliable paycheck back in New York, but I don’t know. I thought coming here would give me some closure, and that maybe, by the end of it, I might have a better idea of what I want to do with my life.”
Jackie took another drink and left her glass on the coffee table. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a silver key. “I’ll give you this. No more breaking and entering.”
Payton gave her a lopsided smile. “Thank you. For helping my dad and looking after this place when he was gone.”
Jackie nodded. “And if you need anything while you’re here, I’m just across the hall.”
“Thanks. You said that you recently decided to live here full time?”
“Yeah. I just sold my flat in London, which made the decision pretty final, but it was something I’d been leaning towards for the last few years. I love it here. The weather, the people, the lifestyle. All of it. I thought your father would make the switch, too, but he always said that he’d wait until he retired to do it, that things were too hectic in London to leave.”
Payton sipped on her wine. “I’ve only been here a few hours, and I already feel like my decision is an easy one,” she said with a sigh.
“Life is short and all that?” Jackie asked. “It’s something we hear all the time, but it’s not until you lose someone close to you that it really hits home.”
“Yeah,” Payton said in just above a whisper. “I don’t think I’m going to be a lawyer... Do you want to sit outside? On the balcony? I’ll just go get changed into some actual clothes.”
“Sure. Take your time.”
Chapter Four
Jackie stood outside on the balcony, taking in the view of the ocean that was identical to her own, but it somehow looked different this morning. Everything did. She still couldn’t believe that Luke was dead.
It was a good thing she hadn’t planned on going into work today. Usually, it took her ten minutes to come into this apartment and make sure everything was okay, but she’d already been here for nearly an hour. She had nowhere else to be today, another good thing, considering that she was already feeling tipsy, and it wasn’t even noon.
“Sorry,” Payton said, stepping outside with her glass in one hand and the rest of the bottle of wine in the other. She was
dressed in dark wash skinny jeans and a white tank top, her blond hair fully dry now, falling a few inches below her shoulders. “I don’t normally drink at this hour, just in case you were wondering.”
“For the record, I don’t either.”
Payton topped up her glass and hovered over Jackie’s.
“Go on,” Jackie said, and Payton filled her glass.
“I didn’t do this the first time around,” Payton said as she pulled out one of the white folding chairs and took a seat.
“Drown your sorrows?” Jackie guessed, taking a seat.
“I don’t know why I didn’t, because right now, I can see the appeal.”
“Maybe not so much tomorrow.”
“And I’ll worry about that tomorrow,” Payton said, clinking her glass off Jackie’s. “But seriously, I’m sorry. Of course, my dad had friends here, and I’m sorry that you had to find out this way, a year later. I should have come out here sooner.”
“You’re here now,” Jackie said, already thinking about all the people she needed to tell. “I’ll make sure his friends find out.”
“Why couldn’t he be normal and have a Facebook account?” Payton asked, bringing her glass to her lips.
“Probably because he spends... Spent,” Jackie said, clearing her throat, “All of his time crafting Facebook ads. He knew that having an account meant handing over a treasure trove of information.”
“Ah. You got the lecture, too.”
Jackie smiled. “Yes. Didn’t everybody?”
“And do you still have an account?”
Jackie nodded. “I don’t use it much, but I’m on there all the time for my business.”
“Oh?”