After four virgin drinks for the pregnant lady and four free-poured, rocket-fuel rum punches for me, we find ourselves in the warm sea. Amanda twirls herself away from me, bending her legs to a sitting position. ‘Tell me you’re not.’ I hold a hand over my mouth but my tipsy giggle escapes regardless. ‘You’re taking a pee, aren’t you?’
She chuckles. ‘Well, I am now you’ve made me laugh.’
‘You’re gross.’
‘I’m more sanitary than going in those toilets with kids’ dribble on the floor and dirty door handles.’
Shaking my head, I flip onto my back and move my legs in upside-down breast stroke, the sun beating on my face. ‘Amanda, I’m booze-crazed.’
She chuckles and bumps into me, her body in the same pose as mine. ‘I know.’
I can’t remember the last time I was drunk and not throwing up outside a club, making a mess of my relationship with Gregory, and embarrassing myself in floods of tears. The thought of being drunk-happy makes me all kinds of fuzzy inside.
Amanda heads back to our loungers and the beach is emptying. And I close my eyes, turning in circles, feeling the water move between my fingers, and remembering how my dad would dance with me in our lounge as I stood on his toes. I remember the times Gregory has twirled me, held me close as we’ve danced. Our perfect moment on top of Primrose Hill. Just us. Our own world.
I have a feeling I’m never going to look at a sunset, the blue sky, the topaz sea the same way again as I’m looking at it right now.
‘I’m alive,’ I whisper to myself as I stop and watch the sun slowly descend.
It’s a presence. A charge. I know he’s here. I can feel him. Turning to Amanda on her lounger, I find Williams sitting on the edge of her bed, massaging her feet in his lap. And my angel, sitting up, straddling my lounger with a bottle of beer in his hand, watching me with a smile.
‘You drunk, baby?’ he asks with a smirk as I stroll towards him.
I don’t know what the right answer is to his question. It’s not like it’s a difficult question. Words just don’t seem to be fitting together right. Instead, I shrug.
That’ll have to do. Leaning forward to put my empty cup on the lounger, I stagger, then turn around to look for whatever it was that knocked me off balance. Whatever it was is gone now.
‘All right, gorgeous. I think you’ve had enough fruit juice for one day.’
Bending my knees, I fall to the lounger between Gregory’s spread legs because I need to make him understand. ‘The juice s’really good here, Ryans. Yoush try it.’
He leans back on his elbows – playful looks good on him. I slip between his legs and become even more liquid as he runs his fingertips down my arms, as if he has no idea he’s even doing whilst we all talk, like four friends, just hanging out. As if this life I’m in isn’t completely crazy.
* * *
When we’re back at the yacht, Carl helps Amanda first, then offers me a hand and practically pulls me onto the first deck.Ouryacht.S. R. Aurora.I like the sound of that.Scarlett Ryans.
‘Rum punch?’ Carl asks.
‘A little too much rum punch,’ Gregory replies.
‘Bertie was set to serve dinner at eight-thirty, sir; would you like it sooner?’
‘Maybe something to snack on would be good and water, lots of water.’
I lean into Carl and pat his chest with both palms. ‘He’s so bossy, Carl. So, so bossy.’
‘Baby, I’m going to change. Are you coming with me?’
‘Nope.Nada.Nein. No.Niente.’
‘Nientemeans nothing, baby.’
‘Yess’know, Gregory.’ I roll my eyes and shake my head. ‘I’m going to sit up there and have some water.’
Amanda pats Gregory on the arm, fond and touching. She nestles into a rattan chair and pulls her knees underneath her.
‘Let’s dance,’ I say. ‘We should dance.’
