He just smiles as if to say –but am I wrong?Which is not the point. Not the point at all. Is there some truth to it? Maybe. Does he get to be the one to point it out? No. He does not.
“Hiring a car seems like a lot of work. Why don’t we book a coach—”
“No,” I interrupt him. “No. I am not doing another coach.”
“Ok, ok,” he throws his hands up in surrender. “We can hire a car. Assuming you drive?”
I shake my head. “I do but…” my voice trails off.Damn.“I don’t have my driving licence on me.”
“Huh, too bad,” he says, shrugging.
“Wait. Doyounot drive?”
He twists his lips. “Of course I drive! I did my test years ago – passed first time, by the way – I just haven’t actually used it in a while. And I also don’t have my licence.”
“Ooh. You’re defensive. Ha!Did wittle popstar always have a driver?”
He points a finger at me. “Stop it. I’m trying to grow here. Can’t you tell? Be kind to me. I’m a novice at all this. Just because you’ve been an adult since you were born.”
I have to laugh at this. Despite everything, I hear myselfproperly cackle. I hold onto the table for balance.
“You have no idea how on the money you are. My dad has always said that about me. Says I was parenting him before I was three.”
Crinkles form at the corners of his eyes as he fights a full-blown grin. “See. I told you. I have a good grasp of who you are, Sara. It’s one of my superpowers.”
“You have more than one?”
He shrugs. “I do but,” he leans across the table towards me and whispers, “the other one is top secret.”
“Hmm, sure.” I’ve dealt with my fair share of men like him. In my experience a witty man, the type that can laugh your knickers right off, often comes with trauma and commitment issues.
I would delve deeper, but at that moment, the waitress returns with bowls of Croatian-style tapas. I immediately grab my fork, stab some patatas bravas and close my eyes as the first delicious, garlicky bite oozes over my tongue. “Ohmyfuckinggawd.”
He smiles, a spark in his eyes like I’ve just done something very funny.
Again.
“So, what do I have to do to get security clearance and find out your top-secret superpower?”
He’s mid bite. “Nope. That’s also classified.” He takes another sip of wine and changes the subject. “Let’s plan. So, we’re not getting a coach. We can’t get our own car. What do you suggest?”
“Well,” I say, “Search results suggest either a ferry from Dubrovnik to Kotor, which takes two hours and leaves at six a.m., or a taxi.”
“Six a.m. ferry sounds torturous. Let’s take a taxi. Can we get one?”
I have several suggestions on my phone, but I opt to ask our waitress for help instead. She’s more than happy to, and within ten minutes she’s managed to arrange a taxi for the morning, picking us up outside Old Town and taking us straight to the dock in Kotor. I can actually feel myself starting to relax.
To keep things simple, I browse places on Airbnb nearby that we can book instantly. Fortunately, there’s a quaint loft a few blocks away, and without thinking I book it.
It’s only after the confirmation email comes through that it occurs to me that we’re sharing again. And there is only one bed.
FourteenCruise Location – At SeaNext Port – KotorTime of Arrival – 12:00 (GMT+1)
As the sun drops below the horizon, the ancient city is swallowed up by shadows that consume the narrow alleyways. We take turns popping into shops to source a fresh change of clothes, and after that we enjoy an evening walk exploring the city. We stop off for cocktails at this little bar tucked into the old walls, watching the waves shimmer under the amber sky.
“So, your honeymoon, huh?”
I groan but it’s half-hearted now I’m suitably tipsy. It’s not the same as the other night. I’m not panicking as he brings up this conversation. I’m not drowning in the betrayal. I’m looser now, almost relaxed about it. That horrible sinking feeling but a whisper in my gut.
