Ethan charges past the big-screen TV, the super-king bed, and the welcome basket full of food – no, scratch that, he grabs a packet of biscuits as he rushes past it – and heads straight for our balcony.
I drop my handbag, hurrying after him.
‘Okay, wow,’ I say – my words seemingly made of nothing but breath. ‘This is unreal.’
Chester’s mum and dad’s house sits elevated, above the beach, and it looks out over nothing but sand, sea and sunshine. If you look a little further down the beach you can see people walking, playing sports, sunbathing, surfers in the water, boats. We’re in paradise.
‘Oh, I am so ready for a holiday,’ Ethan says, wrapping an arm around me.
‘I’m so ready for a nap,’ I tell him. ‘Flying really takes it out of you.’
‘It’s a long flight,’ he replies, following me back indoors.
I sit on the edge of the bed before dramatically flopping down onto my back. Ethan does the same next to me.
‘So, we’re sharing a bed, huh?’ he says.
‘Let’s try not to break this one,’ I reply.
Right on cue, I realise Bea is back in the room.
‘In bed already?’ she says. ‘I forgot to say before, you need to dress for dinner, right now, as we’re headed out soon.’
Oh, but all I want to do is sleep.
‘We’re going out for dinner?’ I reply.
‘Yes, and do dress in your best,’ she adds. ‘The boat has a very strict dress code.’
And with that she’s gone.
‘Boat?’ Ethan says.
‘A fancy boat,’ I reply. ‘I am dreading it.’
‘Really? Because I can’t wait,’ he replies.
Ha. All he needs is time and he’ll soon change his tune. But for now, I guess we need to get ready.
27
‘Dinner on a boat,’ Ethan says, clapping his hands together.
‘Didn’t you say you’d been on a cruise?’ I check.
‘Yeah, a cheap one with a fake window,’ he reminds me. ‘For a cheap-o holiday. This is a boat just for dinner – dinner on a boat.’
Okay, he’s adorable when he’s excited in a dorky way.
‘If you want to fit in, pretend there isn’t even a boat there,’ I tell him as the taxi pulls into wherever it is you board a boat to dinner in these parts.
‘Well, I don’t want to fit in, do I?’ he reminds me.
‘An excellent point,’ I reply as we get out of the car. ‘So, it’s just like we talked about, okay?’
‘Got it,’ he says. ‘Just be the worst version of my best self.’
‘Are you two the late ones?’ a man in a white shirt (who looks like he works here) calls out.
