The Accidental Honeymoon

by Portia MacIntosh

  ‘How are your kids?’ I ask, hoping she mentions them by name.

  ‘Kids are kids,’ she tells me. ‘I seem to spend my days mopping up sick, slobber or shit.’

  As she says this she notices something on her sleeve, a sort of dried, green crust, which she promptly scratches off.

  ‘So, how’s life in LA?’ Kaz asks.

  ‘It’s great,’ I lie. ‘Can’t complain.’

  ‘When do we get to meet this fiancé of yours?’ Sue asks.

  ‘You’ll definitely see him at the wedding. Maybe before, but Fliss has us doing so much pre-wedding stuff, we’ve got a full week ahead of us.’

  ‘We did wonder whether you’d made him up to make it seem like you were doing well,’ Kaz admits. ‘Has anyone actually seen him yet? Howard?’

  ‘I haven’t,’ he laughs. ‘But I did catch the back of his head as he went into her mum and dad’s place with Olly, so he definitely exists.’

  ‘I could do with a ciggy,’ Kaz announces, almost annoyed nothing scandalous is happening, like, say, me not really being engaged. ‘Coming, Sue?’

  Sue nods and the pair disappear outside.

  ‘They’re harder work than they used to be,’ I laugh.

  ‘I’m sure they’re happy for you really,’ he insists. ‘I am.’

  I smile as I give his shoulder a rub.

  ‘You doing OK?’

  ‘It’s just hard,’ he admits. ‘All the wedding talk is just reminding my constantly that I’m not getting married any more – I know it sounds stupid.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound stupid,’ I tell him. ‘I feel exactly the same way. Especially now I’m a bridesmaid. It’s hard when your fiancé cheats on you. You have this idea about how your life is going to play out and then one day the rug is pulled from under you. I totally get it.’

  Howard pulls a very confused face, which quickly dissolves when realisation follows.

  ‘Your bloke cheated on you,’ he says.

  ‘What?’ I laugh nervously.

  ‘Georgie, I’m so sorry,’ he says, grabbing me and hugging me. ‘I can’t believe you’re still with the guy. What are you thinking?’

  ‘Look, it’s OK, it’s fine,’ I babble. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

  Before Howard gets a chance to ask any more questions, Kaz and Sue return – just as Howard releases me from his arms.

  ‘Look what we found outside,’ Kaz says, giving Jack a nudge in my direction.

  ‘Jack,’ I squeak, feeling weirdly guilty because he’s caught me hugging Howard on a girls’ night out.

  ‘Hello,’ he says casually. ‘Your mom suggested I come join you. I made Dougie pretty mad at poker.’

  ‘Why?’ I ask.

  ‘Because I kept winning,’ he laughs. ‘Don’t worry, I insisted he keep the money that he insisted on putting down. I think that’s why he was so mad.’

  ‘Everyone, this is Jack,’ I begin the introductions. ‘Jack, this is Kaz and Sue, and this is Howard.’

  The two men exchange hostile glances, Howard because he thinks Jack is the one who cheated on me, and Jack no doubt playing the clichéd part of jealous fiancé, meeting my ex for the first time.

  ‘Come here, princess,’ Jack says, pulling me up by the hand before wrapping his arms around me and planting a kiss on my neck.

  ‘Princess?’ Howard scoffs.

  ‘It’s an in joke, buddy,’ Jack points out.

  ‘I think it’s sweet,’ Sue says with a sigh. ‘You’ve done so well to land yourself such a sweet and obviously talented man.’

  ‘Fuck that,’ Kaz chimes in. ‘She’s done well to land herself such a fittie.’

  Kaz, knowing no boundaries, gives one of Jack’s biceps a squeeze and Jack, loving female attention as usual, tenses it for her.

  ‘You’re like a fucking gladiator,’ she says.

  ‘The kind who fought in Roman times or the dumb beefcakes who hit each other with foam sticks?’ Howard asks, unable to hide his immediate dislike of Jack.

  ‘Either/or, mate – both are buff,’ Kaz points out. ‘You’re just jelly, because your puny arms can’t compete.’

  ‘Come on, Kaz, muscles aren’t the be all and end all,’ I say, jumping to Howard’s defence. Sticking up for the wrong man causes all kinds of funny looks from my friends, so I quickly backtrack, so as not to cause suspicion. ‘But, I mean, obviously, I dig it.’

  I run a hand up and down Jack’s torso to illustrate my point, but as I feel my hand sweeping over the contours of his eight-pack, I can’t help but feel a little hot under the collar. I hate that he has any kind of effect on me, even if it is fleeting.

  I clear my throat before I speak and pray I’m not blushing.

  ‘Anyway, we probably shouldn’t stay out too long, up early for dance lessons tomorrow, apparently,’ I babble.

  As Kaz and Sue descend on Jack to make the most of him before we disappear, I find myself pushed to one side with Howard.

  He looks so sad, I can’t help but feel for him. I know exactly what he’s going through – I’m going through the same. I hate that he’s feeling bad about himself because the girls are fawning over Jack. Sure, Jack is like your typical movie hunk. Muscular isn’t everyone’s type – it’s never been mine. Howard is just as handsome and sweet and funny as when we were younger, except now he’s even better because he’s a grown man with properly developed feelings. When you’re younger you don’t know if what you’re feeling is real, but now… Maybe I should have stayed here with Howard… Maybe he’s been the right person for me all along. Maybe what I need to do is win him back, and Jack is exactly the right person to help me do it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Al Pacino,’ Jack yells, standing in the doorway of my bedroom in a pair of the underpants I bought him, which are clearly being stretched to capacity.

  ‘What?’ I ask with an unimpressed glance and shrug of my shoulders.

  ‘For an actress, you don’t appreciate nearly enough of my movie references,’ he frowns. ‘I’m John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever – in these tiny undies you bought me.’

  ‘Look, you’re a slim dude, I thought a bigger size would be too big,’ I say with a sigh. I’m just unable to do anything right, it seems.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he laughs. ‘It’s my butt, I guess. Got me a thick booty.’

  I can’t help but laugh. I suppose he is funny.

  Jack walks over to the bed and adjusts the position of the stuffed animals, reinforcing the barrier that keeps us from touching in the night.

  ‘What?’ he laughs. ‘I’m doing this for you. You’re the one who finds it uncomfortable.’

  ‘I suppose you’re used to sharing a bed with people you hardly know.’

  ‘Am I?’ he laughs, climbing in next to me. ‘I’m sorry we can’t all be like Howard, remaining celibate in the hope you’ll see the error of your ways and come running back. It’s pathetic how much he clearly still fancies you. Move on, buddy.’

  Jack rolls onto his side and looks at me. I wasn’t aware I was making a face, but he reads me like a book.

  ‘Oh, princess, come on,’ he starts. ‘You want to get back with him? You haven’t seen him in years. You spend one night hanging out with him and you want to be with him?’

  ‘I spent one night hanging out with you and I married you,’ I remind him.

  ‘Yeah, and that wasn’t exactly your best idea, was it?’

  He’s got a point.

  ‘Look, you don’t understand,’ I begin to explain, fairly certain I’m not going to get through to him because he bangs his way through Vegas tourists like there’s no tomorrow. ‘We’ve got history – I never should have left him. I probably never should have moved to LA. This is my chance to get back the life I never should’ve left.’

  ‘So, what, you’re gonna move back here and do nothing with your life but be with your ex because you don’t want to be alone?’

  ‘That’s not why,’ I insist. ‘Anyway, what would you know? You’ve
never even had a girlfriend.’

  ‘Oh, so now you’re throwing that in my face?’ he snaps back. ‘What’s so wrong with that?’

  ‘Where to begin?’ I reply, before being interrupted by a knock on the door.

  ‘Hello?’ I call back.

  ‘It’s pretty late, I’m getting off now,’ Olly calls from behind the door. When we came to bed, we left him and my dad watching a movie. ‘You guys OK?’

  ‘We’re fine, goodnight,’ I call back.

  ‘Yeah. Night, man,’ Jack adds, neither of us at all convincing.

  I wait a few seconds for Olly to go before resuming our conversation, this time without raising my voice.

  ‘Look, it doesn’t really matter what you think. All that matters is that you help me,’ I point out.

  Jack fluffs his pillows, making himself more comfortable before leaning back with his head on his hands.

  ‘You’re paying me to be your fake fiancé, not your wingman,’ he reminds me. ‘In fact, being your wingman would be counterproductive to my original assignment.’

  ‘Well, if that’s how it is, fine. I’ll give you an extra $2,000 if you help me win Howard back,’ I say. Well, what’s a bit of money versus my future happiness?

  Jack laughs.

  ‘So, you pay me $2k to, what, make him a bit jealous? What’s that going to do? He thinks you’re happily engaged. If he’s such a good guy, he’d never try and come between us.’

  ‘We’ll just have a big fight in front of him or something – he already thinks you’ve cheated on me.’

  ‘What?’ Jack asks, sitting up. ‘Why would you tell him that?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to,’ I explain. ‘His fiancée cheated on him, and I was like “I know how you feel, I’ve been through it”, and he put two and two together. Look, it’s fine. You’re going to get your money and your annulment, so what do you care what people here think of you?’

  ‘Fine,’ he says softly. ‘Sure, whatever, I’ll help you.’

  ‘Thank you, seriously,’ I say, giving his arm a grateful squeeze, although I guess I’m just squeezing his bicep. I’m not even doing it on purpose, I just seem to be subconsciously drawn to them.

  ‘So, what’s the plan tomorrow?’

  ‘Dance lessons in the afternoon, apparently. Now we’re in the actual wedding party, we have to learn some stupid first dance,’ I tell him, my disgust for the idea physically contorting my face into a shape I imagine one could only replicate by sucking a lemon while standing on a plug.

  ‘No way,’ he laughs. ‘I don’t dance.’

  ‘Come on, you have to. It will look bad if we don’t.’

  ‘I don’t have to – what are you going to do, pay me more money?’ he laughs.

  ‘I can’t really afford to give you any more,’ I admit. ‘Funding the trip and giving more than half to you has made quite the dent. I need to live on this until I get my life back on track.’

  ‘No leverage, no dancing,’ he says conclusively.

  ‘Look, there must be something I can do for you in return,’ I start. Jack wiggles his eyebrows almost immediately so I give him a playful slap. ‘Come on, I’m serious.’

  ‘OK, there is one thing,’ he says, sitting up. ‘Take some time off from wedding stuff and come with me to visit my Great Aunt Mavis. She’s in a home, in somewhere called Ilkley. It’s not too far from here and I can hire a car to get us there and back. Come meet her with me. Let’s show her she not only still has family – but that she has a happily engaged nephew.’

  ‘The wedding stuff is pretty full-on. I’m not sure I’ll have time.’

  ‘You come on this trip with me, I’ll dance with you tomorrow. That’s a good deal,’ he points out.

  ‘OK, fine,’ I give in, hoping he’ll change his mind about driving to Yorkshire at some point.

  ‘Awesome,’ he says, lying back down, wiggling his broad shoulders into a more comfortable position. My bed may be a double, but it’s not exactly a generous size for two adults trying so desperately to stay as far apart from one another as possible – made even trickier by the fact that one of those adults is built like a Mr Universe.

  ‘Night, princess,’ he says, flicking the light out.

  I exhale deeply before replying.

  ‘Goodnight.’

  Why do I get the feeling tomorrow is going to be a long, difficult day?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lounging on a blanket in the back garden, memories of long summer holidays from school come flooding back. It’s lying here on the grass, without the worry of any work to do or anything to be up for in the morning. It’s the warmth of the sun shining down on me, washing over my skin. It’s my mum’s voice, calling out from the kitchen window to see if we need more lemonade or sandwiches – cut into neat little crust-less triangles, just like she’s always made them. Mostly it’s the delicious smell of the sweet pea flowers. I remember once, when I was really young, deciding I would pick a couple for my mum because I thought they would be nice in the living room. However, when I walked into the kitchen proudly clutching a small bunch of flowers, my mum hit the roof. Not only because I’d maimed her precious, tenderly grown garden, but because the flowers were useless picked. She told me that sweet peas produce a stress hormone when they’re picked, ruining their beautiful scent. I don’t know whether or not that’s true, or whether it was just my mother’s way of reminding me to look, but not touch. Whether it’s true or just a metaphor, it makes sense. We’re all beautiful and desirable from afar – until we get stressed, right? Then our ugly side comes out for all to see, and rather than the blossoming wallflower we appeared, we’re broken, and people can see us for what we really are.

  Still, today, here with Jack, everything seems great – except, of course, for the little problem we’re trying to tackle of knowing nothing about each other.

  ‘So, pretending to be in love isn’t the simple task we thought,’ I say between mouthfuls of a cream cheese and cucumber sandwich. ‘It’s no big deal, we just need to go over our backstories again, and relearn our lines.’

  ‘So long as I can sunbathe while we’re doing it,’ Jack replies.

  We decided to come outside to talk so we could chat without anyone hearing and wondering why the hell we were getting to know each other; but it’s such a beautiful sunny day, we may as well catch some rays while we’re doing it.

  ‘OK, so I’ll ask you some questions, you ask me some, we can blurt random pieces of relevant information at each other. Don’t worry about covering old ground again. It will only help it sink in, to be reminded of things.’

  ‘Sure,’ he replies, polishing off another sandwich before lying back in the sun with his eyes closed. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘So, I know you have a great auntie in Ilkley, but where is the rest of your family?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t have any,’ he replies casually, as though he’s used to telling people. ‘My mum died when I was young, she was in a car accident. She and my dad met while travelling. They were both from small families, so after she died, it was just my dad and me. He was a pretty well-known magician in Vegas. He had a regular slot at one of the big hotels – the Fantastic Freddie Fingers. Total old-school magician, everyone loved him from tourists to stars – legend had it Elvis himself used to book my dad for private performances, although my dad said a magician never tells.’

  ‘He sounds awesome,’ I reply sincerely.

  ‘Yeah, he was a great man. He was always doing magic tricks for me when I was growing up. His speciality was sleight of hand, and he taught me everything he knew. He was training me to take over from him after he retired. There was good money in it, and I think he thought it would set me up for life. But then he got sick. He started making mistakes when he was doing tricks. His hands wouldn’t work like they used to. I started helping him out during shows, but as he got worse we realised he had ALS.’

  ‘What’s that?’ I ask softly.

  ‘Amyotrophic lateral scleros
is. It’s a progressive neurodegenerative disease that affects the brain and the spine,’ he tells me. He reels it off like it’s something he often has to explain to people. ‘It’s a horrible, horrible disease. After my dad died, taking over from him… it just didn’t feel right. I’d just turned twenty-three, I was all alone and I had all this free time suddenly. He left me some money to take care of myself, but I wanted to work. So that’s when I took the job in the casino. Seemed about the only other thing I was qualified to do, and Vegas is all I’ve known my whole life so…’

  Jack finally opens his eyes and looks over at me. He notices I’m finding this upsetting. I know I didn’t know his family, but I just feel he’s had such a tragic life.

  ‘Don’t be sad,’ he tells me with a smile. ‘Just be happy all your people are alive and well.’

  I nod. He’s right.

  It’s interesting that he says his dad left him some money. It either can’t have been very much, or he must have had a good time spending it, because there’s no way he’d be on this trip with me if he didn’t need the money.

  ‘Speaking of your family,’ he starts. ‘What’s the deal with you and Fliss?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

  ‘This frenemy thing you’ve got going on. I thought you were best buddies.’

  ‘We were,’ I say with a sigh. ‘So our mums have always had this stupid rivalry, just trying to one-up each other with whose daughter was doing best. Fliss is so very clearly winning at the moment – I don’t know if you’ve noticed?’

  Jack laughs.

  ‘Subjective,’ he replies. ‘But go on.’

  ‘Things came to a head during sixth form, when we were both in the school play. We both went for the part of Snow White and, obviously, I wanted to be an actress, so the part was important to me. Fliss just wanted to be in it because we always did the same things, but her mum was pushing her to go for the part of Snow White, too – she said she looked more the part. Anyway, I got the part and Fliss was cast as the Queen, which, as you can imagine, didn’t go down very well. But things got worse on opening night. Fliss fluffed her lines a little, lost her confidence and, when her nerves finally got the better of her, ran off to the toilets, mid show. The thing is, the show must go on, so I quickly changed my outfit and filled in for her.’