“Ok, let’s go.”
I experience a sharp pinch of adrenaline as I follow her down the stairs and out into the hotel’s courtyard, the long train of my wedding dress rustling along the cobbled path. Large neatly pruned hedgerows block the view of the event space where the wedding party are waiting for me to arrive.
Hattie gives me a final, brief hug. “Go quickly,” she says, nodding towards the street. “I’ve got this.”
I kiss her cheek before striding quickly to the front of the hotel, spotting the black taxi waiting for me up ahead. I dive into the back and sigh so dramatically it comes out like more of a sob.
“Bad day?” the driver asks.
“You could say that,” I manage to squeak out.
He watches me in the rearview mirror, as if he’s waiting for me to have a total meltdown, but within seconds we’re pulling away from the hotel. I look back and wonder what Hattie has in store.
I’m most worried about Dad. The guilt intensifies when I imagine the look on his face. The disappointment. The concern.
As we join the motorway in the direction of home, I finally allow my breathing to return to normal, turn off my phone and look ahead.
TwoTwo months later
“Hey, wake up,” Millie’s voice stirs me.
“What the fuuuuck…” I hiss, half-delirious.
“Wake up. I have coffee.”
This gets my attention. I sit bolt upright in my bed and stare at my bright-eyed youngest sister who is smiling far too eagerly for this time of day. What time is it anyway?
What day is it?
I glare at her like she’s lost her last marble and check the time on my phone. Except I don’t, because my phone isn’t where I left it.
“Millie, what thefuck? I thought I was being murdered.”
She regards me, quirking her head in confusion. “Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because there’s an intruder sat at the end of my bed.”
“What,me? What kind of intruder brings coffee? And, besides, it’s ten a.m. on a Saturday. I don’t think that’s prime intruder time.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How would you know?” She doesn’t answer and it’s just as well because I’m too busy searching for my phone. It can’t have gone far…
“You looking for this?” she asks, waving the cube that runs my life in my face. “It was vibrating on your bedside table when I arrived. Everyone was worried about you, so here I am.”
I blink, trying to orient myself. Millie snaps her fingers in my face.
“Stop it,” I grumble.
“Earth to Sara! You’ve been virtually MIA since the wedding. Dad’s on the verge of a stroke. I mean, technically, that’s not your fault. He has terrible blood pressure.” My phone buzzes again. “You need a new phone. This one is so old. Are you packed yet?”
“What?” My brain is absolutely not prepared for this kind of interrogation.
Simple fact about me: I’ve trained my body to only function after at least three cups of coffee and this must be topped up throughout the day, or else I will crash. It’s my only flaw.
That and my newest trait: infamous runaway bride.
Millie fidgets, frowning from the end of my bed. “Have you hit your head? Yourflight! Are you checked in for your flight? It leaves in six hours.”
“What are youtalkingabout?” I snatch my phone from her to find a string of notifications. I scroll through the most recent ones, all updates about my upcoming trip.
