Page 13 of The Risk Taker
“Come on, then.”
She links arms with me and tells me about an episode ofMarried at First Sight. One in which the groom can’t stop checking out the bride’s sister who’s her bridesmaid.
“Fuck, I’m sorry!” she gasps, realizing what she’s saying.
It’s her shocked, comical face that sets off my laugh. Not the story.
I laugh until my chest burns and tears burst from my eyes like a broken dam.
Then it morphs into something else. Something ugly and painful. And snotty.
“I trusted him,” I choke.
Mel pulls me into her arms. “It’s okay,” she soothes, rubbing my back.
I cling to her, and she holds me tight while I cry, waiting for as long as I need.
When I ease back, I hiccup out an ugly snort. “I think I knew. Deep down. That’s the worst part. Not about him and Kelly. But that something wasn’t right. Our bedroom’s painted blue. I wanted green. He says he likes my hair up because it’s more elegant. But I like it down sometimes. He makes us buy the low-fat milk, but I want full fat. I ignored it, though. This…feeling… I’m not a fucking pushover, Mel.”
“You’re not,” she replies.
“But everything else seemed so perfect. And my parents love him.”
“Listen, it’s still going to hurt, even if it is for the best. And it’s okay to grieve the dream you thought you were getting. Even if it wasn’t real.”
“That’s pretty deep.” I swipe away my slowing tears.
“I try.” Mel gives me an understanding smile. “Believe me, I know how much breakups hurt. Even if you know deep down it was wrong.”
I blow out a breath, straightening my shoulders and composing myself. “Yeah, you’re right. Imagine if I’d found out he was a cheat after we got married, or when we had kids. It could have been so much worse.”
“Yeah. Stuff like that can rip families apart.”
Mel loops her arm in mine, and we keep walking. We’ve come back through the lantern-lit trails that weave around the hotel grounds, through the trees, instead of along the beach. The sight of another hotel coming up tells us we’ve gone too far.
“Let’s go back along the beach. We’ll find our bungalow easier,” I say.
We head down a small path that leads to the beach, then walk along the sand.
A bungalow similar to ours, but larger, comes up on our left. Its decking doors are wide open.
“Do you think that’s Declan’s?” Mel asks. “He said he had a big one.”
“Course he did.” I roll my eyes.
I don’t think he was checking me out like Mel thinks he was. But he is a flirt. And it’s nice to get some harmless attention when your self-esteem has been trampled through the ground.
Mel knocks shoulders with me, pulling me to a stop as we get closer.
“What?”
“Ssh!” She widens her eyes at me, then claps her hand over her mouth as a female voice squeals.
“Declan! Oh God! Oh, oh, oh…”
“I think it’s safe to say it’s his bungalow.” She sniggers.
The energetic sex sounds that spill from the wooden, thatch-topped bungalow settle my gut unlike anything else has been able to since I peered around that corner and witnessed Kelly giving Callum a blow job.
