Before I Do(90)
53
Twenty-Five Hours After I Didn’t
Josh was pacing, waiting for Audrey in arrivals. Granny Parker was sitting in one of the plastic chairs, nose deep in yet another Jilly Cooper novel. This woman was a fast reader.
“What is going on?” Josh asked, his brow knitted in confusion. “Why were people chanting ‘Team Audrey’ at me at the bag carousel?”
“People get weirdly emotionally invested on planes. Look, can we go somewhere and talk, just the two of us, please, Josh?”
“I don’t want to have a big conversation right now, and I don’t want the whole plane knowing my affairs,” Josh said, holding up a hand. “I just needed to check you have somewhere to stay, that you haven’t followed me here on one of your whims, when it’s peak season and everywhere will be booked up.”
That’s exactly what she had done.
“No, I’ve figured it out,” she lied, hoping she could make it true.
Josh looked skeptical but then hit a palm against his forehead, as though angry at himself for still worrying about her admin concerns when he was furious with her.
“I’m sorry I came, when you asked me to give you space, but I want to explain. Maybe in a few days, when you’ve had a chance to—”
“To what? Get over it? This isn’t like you losing your mobile for the fiftieth time or locking yourself out of the flat again, Audrey. You can’t fix this just because you feel bad.” His eyes began to well up and a muscle pulsed by his jaw.
Audrey got her wallet out of her handbag and riffled through it, pulling out the only two photos she now kept inside. One she’d taken of him in Covent Garden, when he was still Bad Jeans Josh; the other was of them both at the bar at Ben and Dee’s wedding, caught midlaugh over drink parasols.
“Look, I always had you in my wallet too. I know I shouldn’t have kept the ones of Fred, but they were just a memory of who I used to be. You have to believe me, I didn’t initiate that kiss at the wedding. I don’t want him, I want you,” Audrey pleaded.
“The thing is, I’ve been thinking about it all night, and whether you kissed him back or not, I don’t think that’s even the relevant part. Yes, our wedding was a disaster, but if we’d been a real team, if you’d been excited to marry me, you would have rolled with the punches. I didn’t see anything that happened yesterday as a ‘bad omen’ or a sign that I shouldn’t be marrying you.” Granny Parker coughed loudly into her book behind them. “But it made you doubt everything. Life is going to bring falling bats, heart attacks, probably even temptation from other people. If we can’t weather these things on our wedding day, what hope do we have for the next fifty years?” He paused, his eyes wide and full of sadness. “You know what I always admired about my parents’ marriage? They’re a great team. They’ve faced their share of challenges, but they were always in it together. I think I realized last night that I love you—God, I love you, Audrey—but we’re not a team. I don’t know if we ever have been.” He took a deep breath and looked at her with such a defeated look that she didn’t know how to respond. Then he turned back to Granny Parker, picked up their bags, and walked out of the airport.
Audrey felt herself physically deflate. She’d been so anxious to talk to Josh, to explain, but now that she’d spoken to him, she felt even worse. What if this wasn’t fixable?
* * *
As usual, Josh was right. There seemed to be no hotels on the island with any availability. After scrolling through online booking portals for a good half hour, she finally found somewhere called Foamtopia that had a few single rooms available.
Audrey followed the GPS on her rental car to an ugly high-rise hotel in San Antonio, on the west side of the island. It soon became clear why Foamtopia had availability. In the lobby, women walked around in bikinis and high heels, and a team of cleaners were sponging down the bar floor in preparation for something ominously named “Foam O’clock.”
This was a far cry from the Mirador Agroturismo, where she was supposed to be staying. The Mirador had an on-site goat farm, a meditation yurt, an olive press, and a hot-stone spa. Audrey took a wild guess that Foamtopia had none of those things.
“Would you like Foam dollars?” the receptionist asked in perfect English.
“What are Foam dollars?”
“Cash gets damp, so we offer Foam dollars to use at the bar.”
“I won’t be attending the foam party,” Audrey said.
“Oh, you can’t stay at Foamtopia and not come to the foam party,” said the receptionist cheerfully while handing over a complimentary waterproof lanyard pouch. “Best foam party in Ibiza.”
Things didn’t look any better once she’d lugged her case upstairs. Her room resembled a walk-in cupboard, with white bars on the window, and there was a waterproof cover on the mattress that made a crunching sound when she sat down. There were no carpets in the room, only porous blue matting, which made Audrey wonder if the foam was going to start coming out of her bedroom ceiling.
Lying on her bed, she turned on her phone for the first time since last night. She had hundreds of messages from friends, asking why she and Josh had left the party so early. Others seemed oblivious to how the wedding had ended; Traci had sent a photo of herself dancing in just her bra and skirt, with the message “Great wedding! Have a fab honeymoon!” No one seemed to know the real story.