Page 4 of The Teacher

One of the bridesmaids turns her head to me with a horrified expression on her face. I think that one’s actually Tiffany. Her mouth hangs open at my comment. I guess she doesn’t like my swearing.

Ripley, sensing what’s up, turns to her and shrugs. “It’s one of Sandy’s jokes,” she explains. Judging from her face, I don’t think the bridesmaid fully understands humor. Or Australians.

It’s one of my jokes but, deep down, I know it’s true. I don’t think I’d find love again. Not after what’d happened to me all those years ago.

I’m content with that, though. Really, I am. I don’t need a man. I don’t need love.

“How about we pop open this bubbly?” I suggest, wiping away the beginnings of tears from my eyes as I raise the freezing cold bottle of champagne above my head. The whole room erupts in enthusiastic agreement. It seems like women’s love of champagne exceeds the borders of both Australia and America.

It’s going to be a good wedding.

* * *

And it is.

Cove and Ripley have gotten married on the beach. It suits them perfectly to a T. They fell in love over surfing, so it’s only right they get a wedding on the sand with the waves crashing to the side.

Cove’s my younger brother. A pro surfer. He suffered a life-changing accident two years ago when he fell off his board during an important surfing competition. It was so bad he required surgery on his legs. His supermodel girlfriend quickly broke up with him and all his surfing contracts dried up overnight. He emerged from hospital months later a broken man. He turned to drinks and drugs and lots, and I mean lots, of girls to cope. He refused to surf again, to even touch a surfboard again. My Dad and I tried everything to get him out of his deadly spiral, but nothing worked. He either slept with or verbally abused every psychiatrist in the Southern Hemisphere. Nothing worked at all, we were at the end of our tether.

And then along came Ripley.

My best friend from America. We met online, deep on the internet forums of the superhero film series, The Vindicator Team. Yeah, a superhero franchise. Silly, I know. But we both loved the films and, being the only two females on the internet forums, we bonded pretty damn quickly. Despite me being slightly older and from the other side of the world. Despite her working-class upbringing in Queens, New York, and my complete opposite affluent upbringing as the daughter of a billionaire businessman in the sleepy coastal town of New Water, Australia. We just fit together like pieces of a puzzle. In the months before we met at New Water Airport, we would chat together every day online.

And that’s when I came up with the idea of flying Ripley to Australia, to have her stay, rent-free and all-expenses-paid, at my house so that she might be able to help Cove in some way to get back on his feet and on a board again. She wasn’t someone Cove knew, so he wouldn’t feel ashamed of her knowledge, and she was able to be discreet about our wealthy family and our dark secrets, so I trusted her. She was our last hope in reforming Cove. Dad agreed to the plan and soon Ripley was flying out to Australia.

And she did a lot more than reform Cove. It was a bit tricky at first, but they both actually fell in love.

Which led to this day on the beach. This beautiful day with the sun shining down and the water blue and clear.

The day they get married on this beach in front of their family and friends.

It’s just amazing, and it’s even romantic enough to touch my cold dead heart.

The look on Cove’s face when he saw how beautiful and radiant Ripley looked in her wedding dress would make any bitter older sister melt, including me. The way he smiles at her, that’s proper, heartwarming stuff Hollywood could never fully replicate.

The wedding’s perfect in every way.

And then it’s the afterparty. Back at the hotel.

This is the time for this Maid of Honor to let her hair down and party. I’ve been looking forward to this part the most when I can finally dance gawkily with Ripley and seriously sing my heart out to the Grease soundtrack medley all night long and not have to worry about another WEDDING DAY EMERGENCY.

But none of that fun stuff is meant to be.

Oh, no.

It’s only just after I arrive at the hotel conference room, now decked out for the party, that I see him.

Him.

Skipper. Skipper Deep.

Skipper fucking Deep.

The man from my nightmares I never want to see again. He’s here.

It all happens so quickly. I see him across the hotel conference room. He sees me.

And then, before I can even react, he starts walking quickly in one direction.