Exactly forty-five minutes later, I’m dressed, fed and appropriately caffeinated. We head to Pile Gate, the ancient access point for Old Town and wait for the taxi to arrive with our jumble of bags. Part of me is worried the driver won’t show, but all my anxiety dissipates when a modern black Mercedes stops out front.
“Oh, thank God,” I say, sighing. After yesterday’s sweaty, coach ride, I think we deserve a little luxury.
“This is more like it,” he agrees, stepping forward to open the door for me. He offers me his hand.
He’s babied me since I first stepped out of bed this morning, my ankle now a lovely shade of blue. Gus isn’t much better himself. He hisses every time he has to stand up or bend down. I’m just glad that we’ve picked a sensible option to get to Kotor. I read on travel blogs last night that taking the coach through the border controls can take hours so I’m hoping it’s much quicker than that for us.
The driver takes on the hilly lanes with ease as we zoom out of Dubrovnik. Once we’re on the main road, I get a great glimpse of the city below us. The terracotta roofs and blue sea beyond is a delicious contrast, no wonder it’s such a desired holiday destination.
I frown at my phone once we’re past.
“I haven’t had a notification about docking in Kotor yet.”
Gus has been busy staring intensely out of the window his side, but he relaxes now, turning his attention to me. “Maybe it’s because they’re planning on docking in the evening. I’m sure there were two evening stops.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I reckon we get there, have a stroll, grab some lunch, then before we know it, they’ll have arrived and we can safely reboard our luxury cruise.”
I throw my head back and close my eyes. The last forty-eight hours has been stressful. But also sort of fun? “I might sleep for a whole day.”
“You’re telling me, you didn’t sleep like a baby last night?”
I glance at him nervously. I wonder if I spoke in my sleep again. I wonder what I said if I did. It’s been years since I’ve shared my space at night – other than with Mike,obviously – but he never brought it up because he was such a deep sleeper and he either got used to it or never felt like it needed to be discussed.
I almost want to know if I still say the same things I did as a teenager. The things that made me cry whenever I got home from a sleepover because it was all my friends could talk about the morning after. It didn’t take me long to cement myself as the outsider in friendship groups. I have always been too stubbornly independent to lean on them in a way that was required for those deeply intimate relationships – that is until I met Hattie at university, and she forced herself into my life with her chaotic, loveable energy.
“I don’t know if I did,” I say. “Was I snoring?”
“Not badly.”
“Ugh. You’re lying.”
He doesn’t deny it but shifts the conversation. “In all seriousness though, Sara, I just wanted to say thank you for bringing me along with you. I really appreciate that you didn’t leave me to fend for myself at the port. I would probably be back in the UK by now otherwise. I actually feel like I’ve been able to enjoy being in another city, for the first time in…” his voice trails off and he shrugs.
I swallow. “Thanks for not being a terrible travelling partner.”
He snorts. “Did you think I was going to be?”
“Do you know what you reminded me of? When I first saw you. You know, when you practically smashed my spritz all down my dress?”
“What?” he says, glancing at me in shock. I laugh at his reaction. “That was you?”
“You really didn’t recognise me?”
He runs a hand down his face, lips parted in disbelief. “This makes so much sense now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You practically balked at the sight of me that night at the bar.”
“Ha!”
“I’m so sorry,” he says, sincerity glowing warm in his eyes. “I was in hot pursuit. I’d been spotted and needed to get on the ship without being seen. I didn’t want anyone to know where I was going or what I was doing.”
“It’s ok,” I tell him. “I get it now.”
He watches me for a moment, then nods.
