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Ana and I walk into the wine room, arms linked. A door at the other end of the room is open, which lets the sunlight pour in and draws you to it. But it's the walls of this room, lock stock with bottles of wine and thank goodness, no smoking barrels, that hold multi-level displays of a wine lover's affection. Jonathan does a double take as we walk in and at Ana because she is now wearing my hat. ' That hat suits you ,' he says as we move further into the room. This post has affiliate links and may see me earn a commission should you purchase. I'm slightly buzzed as I move to sit in the chair James is patting on the left of him. And I sit with Ana on my left. Jonathan on her left. Another couple in the room (older than us) is in full-on conversation with James and Jonathan. The husband jokes that the wife has been dragging him to The Terrace Rooms & Wine , since it opened. She says something back to him. I couldn't understand a word she said, but her accent tickles me and I tell her that, hoping she'll keep talking. Our new-found friends, Cameron and Ailsa, are from Scotland - different parts, and when they find out we've never been, we get an open invitation to visit Scotland. Ana turns to Jonathan, ' Next year's birthday ?' And while we were yet to visit Scotland, Ailsa and Cameron had visited Grenada, Barbados and Jamaica. My brain gently ushers in the fact that one of the cords tying these three Caribbean islands together are rum distilleries. And just as it did, Cameron regales us with a hilarious tale of his wife's rum-tasting experience in Jamaica. We listened, amused at how their tour and rum tasting at the Appleton Estate knocked her for six and how he, having never nursed anything in his life, had to nurse her back. They'd lost two days out of their holiday because of that. Our host joined us then. He, too, laughing at the hilarity of the situation. Then, informs us that we are waiting for another couple to start. Is it the same couple from yesterday? (Ana asks). Because weren't they also late yesterday? Are they from the West Indies by any chance? James adds. No, I don't think so. Well his wife is Italian, he is English. Why? These two. (Raises his hand above my head and points back and forth between Jonathan and me.) Always late. James, I keep telling you, it's not that we're late; we simply run on our own time. (Laughing.) Hang on, then shouldn't everyone else know what that time is? You do. It's Caribbean time. When we turn up. (Laughing even more.) I see. (He says, staring me dead on.) Besides, we do know when to be on time, don't we, Jonno, like now for wine-tasting? Jonathan's head is down, looking at Ana's thigh. The one he raised her dress to gently massage but nodded in agreement. Ana, on the other hand, is using my hat as a fan. Says it is warm and our new-found Scottish friends agree. I jokingly suggest we start the ' wine drinking '. But Jonathan turns to everyone sitting around the table and says. 'Okay, let me apologise for this one in advance.' I reach across Ana to poke him but he sees me coming and dives away. I lose my balance and fall off my chair, leaving the entire room hollering. Aye, she's had a wee dram already. (Ailsa hollers.) I'm laughing so much. First, from the silliness of it all, then the embarrassment of it, that I can't pick myself up off the floor. And while Ana is leaning on her husband, almost passing out with hysterical laughter; it's James who gets up, face not straight, gives me his hand. And I stand up, fix my clothes and dust off my shame. ' You okay? ' He asked once I'd sat down again. His face still not straight but his concern registers. I shake my head, say yes. Can I ask you something? Leaning in. Uhum. How much have you had to drink? One glass plus. (My response more a question than an answer). His eyes pinch before he looks over at me. His face a quiz and a smile. And this, this finds feelings. But now, some twenty minutes later, we're all voting for the ' wine drinking ' to start and as we do, our late arrivals walk in holding hands. They say hello. His shirt buttoned up but not correctly. Her hair in a messy updo, face flushed a rich burgundy and a scarf loosely knotted around her neck. The use of the scarf confuses me, seeing how it is so warm, but it's the letters on the scarf that catches my attention. I could only see three letters (C O C) in one corner and another two (L E) at the other end of the tie. For whatever reason, my brain tells me it's the distinctive French brand Charlotte is fond of wearing, which immediately brings Charlotte into mind. But this woman's style has something of a mainland European flair. He pulls out the two chairs nearest Ailsa and she sits. This puts her immediately across the table from Ana and he in turn sits across from Jonathan.   But then she places a supple-grained leather handbag on the table and my heart stops. I reach for Ana. She, too, has locked eyes with the bag and offers a compliment. And I follow suit. Mr Gardiner, on the other hand, pipes up, ' Whatever you do, do not tell my wife where you got that handbag .' Jonathan's deadpan leaves our lately joined guest darting between him and Ana, unsure what to do next. Jonno, I think you're fighting a losing battle here; they're holding hands under the table. James tells him without looking our way. But you can tell me. (I offer.) And she greets me with a smile. 'It's Coxi-nelle,' she says, ' C.O.C.C.I.N.E.L.L.E . ' Spelling it out. Ana and I are looking at each other, neither of us familiar. But now she is on her feet and proudly passing her handbag across the table to us for a better look. Again, the act of passing this object of desire across a table reminds me of Charlotte. The sort of thing she'd do when she turned up from one of her shopping trips in SW1X with the latest must-have bag or heels in one of the many colours she'd have bought it in. Though her getting back up, causes her scarf to unravel itself, exposing her neck. All questions were answered then. But this bag, eye-catching in a Normandy grey or is it a muted green (I'm undecided) with its gold hardware on its plaited handle is just oh-so-beautiful! Compact too. The type of bag I’d have for those times, I only need to take my phone, keys, cards, facial mist and lip tint. And is as beautiful to touch as it was on the eye. Ah, you're here, okay then, we'll start. Our host says as he returns to the room but when did he leave. 'Rosés are what we'll be tasting today.’ He says enthusiastically. And here, around the huge, natural wooden table (the centrepiece of the room) with seating for as many as fourteen, our wine session finally begins with a manageable lesson in rosé winemaking as he pours from the first bottle into our glasses. It's from the Saint Clair family estate in New Zealand. He reveals. We swirl. We sniff. And while he highlighted what we should be smelling, I simply liked what I smelled (fruity, juicy, peachy), so tasted it. Silky, too, so I drank the rest of it. James looks over at me, shakes his head with no surprise. ' Jess, we're supposed to.... ' He doesn't finish his sentence; simply shakes his head again and taps me on the back. And while all else is checking the colour intensity over a white card, I'm giggling to myself, amused as I have no wine to check over my card. Another bottle cracks open and our host pours. I don't hear this bottle's name, as I'm having far too much fun on my buzz. But I paid attention sufficiently to hear him say it has a deeper colour because the juice has had a longer connection with the skin. That I didn't know, but it all made sense. We swirl and sniff again. And our host does the thing of asking for the nose. I'm mindful not to repeat my last offence. Instead, I'm sniffing my wine, concentrating on finding what 'Mr English' has identified on his nose. But it's Ana who leans over and whispers, 'Smoke and melded fruit. I sniff again and agree. 'Yep. Definitely smoke, layers of it. I'm whispering back. The two of us giggling as if teenagers. Charred meats. She continues to add so that we could not contain ourselves. Jonathan looks over at us and then at the group. I'm sorry. I only apologised for Jess earlier, I didn't think I'd have to be apologising for my wife this early on. Clearly, I've forgotten what they're like when they've had a few glasses of wine. But Ailsa joins in, Whatever they've had, I'd like some . Ailsa, you can have whatever they're having. But you may also have to claim them very soon. Jonathan's deadpan demeanour continues. We (Ana and I) lean into each other, hands over our mouths, doing our best to stifle our laughter. I think they're a right hoot, Ailsa continues. Just the kind of company I'd have in Scotland. Ailsa saying what she said reminded me of friends we (James, Jonathan, Ana and I) met at a wine session we happened upon in Bangkok a few years back. And I mention that. Jess, say that again. James demanded. Say what again? I’d turned to him. Where were we? Bangkok. Everyone went quiet then burst out laughing. ' Jess, the word is Bangkok .' What did I say? Slightly confused. You say Bang Kok. I'm stifling a giggle but I need to defend myself, so I argue that I don't. No? Then say it again. Well now I can't because I'm conscious that you're all now listening to me. Casting my eyes around the table. You say Bangkok in two words, giving it an entirely new meaning. No. I. Do. Not. I say with much conviction. Then say it. His demand sexy this time. And had we not been in this crowd, I'd have Bangkok'd him but instead I defend myself. James, you're asking me to re-commit an offence I was never guilty of. Then, just like the Antigua thing, I'll have to spend my days clearing my name. And now instead of just my three friends, I feel as though the entire wine room (the other guests, Ronnie, the host, the glasses, the fully stocked wall racks of wine) is now witness, judge and jury on this case. Ana turns to me and I think she's coming to my defense but instead of exonerating me, she says. ' Actually Jess, you do .' Wait, what? My jaw drops. How is it that no one has ever said this to me before? It's a little bit more pronounced when you've had a few glasses of wine. James, you've never mentioned this to me. Turning back to him (Because now the wine for sure is prosecuting me.) Well we've never had reason to discuss Bangkok after a few drinks. His face so not straight. No. You just do it. Ailsa quips. And while everyone is cracking up, I'm edging towards mortified. Guys, honestly. Are you saying I've been walking around saying Bangkok like that and no one's said anything? Actually Jess, I think it's cute. It's your accent under the alcohol that brings it out. If you ask me, that's the way we should all be saying it. Matter of fact, I think everyone should go Bang Kok. Not even Mr Deadpan over there has a straight face saying that and neither does anyone else. We've been to Bang Kok. Ailsa comes back, egging the conversation on. Anna, well she redecorated the table with the mouthful of wine she'd sipped on. Guys, come on, this is a wine-tasting event. I thought we had a bit more decorum. We like when our guests enjoy themselves. Our host says walking along the opposite side of the table. Come on Jess, you know we're only teasing. James leans over, wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulls me to him. By then, I'd picked up his glass of wine, rested it on my lips, taken a sip. ' You know we love you really. ' He hugs me closer to him, which catches my breath, sends a wave of a feeling over me. I tilt my head and eye him. ' Do you? ' I could see him taking what he wanted from that question. His eyes deep in mine was a slow dance. Slow dance to my soul. He met me where I met him and when our heartbeats found that incredible rhythm, synced. Ahem (cleared my throat). What was the name of that brand again? Coccinelle, was it? I had pulled back from him. I had to. Knocked back the rest of the wine in his glass. Because had I stayed hugged to him any longer, I'd have made his lips a deeper colour. ---------------------------- Now feel free to let me know in the comments below, your favourite or least favourite part of this chapter.

Some people feel the rain, others just get wet.   Bob Marley 'Jonno, I want to know how on earth you managed to keep this wife of yours from telling me Jess was coming?' 'Trust me James, you don't want to know.' 'Actually, now I do.' James pipes back. Inside, we (James and I) are checked in and march up the stairs. This march, led by Ronnie the ever-so-friendly Staffordshire bull terrier, our young host from check-in, Jonathan, me, Ana, and James who bookended us. 'Well, knowing how my dear friend Ana doesn't know how to keep a type of secret, it must have been something big.' I drag out the last word, extending it past its three letters. 'Wait, Jonno did you agree to a third child?' 'Jess, you're not far off. At this rate, I might have to sell myself and the house to pay the mortgage on this one.' His tone deadpan. 'Okay, that's big.' James pipes back up. 'Because last time, didn't you have to sell the car just to pay for the petrol?' Ana clears her throat behind me, 'Hellooo. I'm here.' We're all laughing and I almost have a urological accident but the truth is, Jonathan will bend over backwards for Anastasia because Anastasia broke ties to be with him. Those two, a match made in a heaven some people never enter into . A match struck over coffee between the BA business class aisles while crossing the Atlantic from the Caribbean to the UK. And over the years, I've sat and watched it percolate . Percolate into something both robust and meaningful. There's nothing mediocre about their relationship. That relationship is built on a strong black coffee. I love that about them. And Ana needed that. Nothing worse than giving up your everything, well near everything... Anyhew. But now at the top of the stairs, our little cavalcade is at a standstill, where our host has opened the door to Room One . And says it is my room. So I stroll in and my heart flutters. 'Guys.' I say all excited and sail straight pass our host and the bed to stare out to the seafront. The view out to sea, jaw-dropping. And the huge bay window framing it with its nook to sit in, is all the invitation I'll need to sit and stare. I hear James (whose now entered the room) say she's happy but I am more than happy. I'm happy and buzzing and when I turn back into the room, for the first time notice my king size bed draped in its white linen, and too a fire place I'd passed on the opposite side of the bed. The bold dark floor boards, a statement and I follow them to the bathroom's entrance. In the doorframe, I stand and stare at the rain shower on my left and the sink on my right. I have to bend over to see out the windows (suspended more to the floor than the roof) and there was something overly sexy about that. It's James who ultimately picks me and my jaw off the floor and when he does, I simply say, 'forget bedtime, its about shower time in this room.' James turns back to the rest of our group and says, 'Yep, she's happy.' I look back at them and nod with agreement and Jonathan makes the sign of the cross and exhales. 'Eh, what's that for?' I joke and throw him a look. 'Jess, do you know my wife chose this place because of you.' 'What place?' I asked confused. 'This hotel, what's it called?' He turns to Ana who offers ' The Terrace Rooms and Wine .' 'when she suggested we try and invite you.' 'No she didn't.' Yes I did. Ana replied but quietly. 'What?' Yep she was more concerned about you not liking the hotel, than about me liking it. 'What? No way.' I was eyes wide and gobsmacked. 'Yes Jess, you can be quite picky when it comes to your hotels.' I go over and give Ana a hug who proceeds to polite-brag about their room. Room Three , they not only had the best room but also the best of views from a free standing claw-foot bathtub perched between windows that are perpendicular to each other. Now that I had to see. And so we did. There as she said, a sea-viewing bathtub… It pulled a little at my heartstrings but I suppose it suited the lovers they were moreso than a single woman on her own. James' was further down the corridor in Room Five . His room also had a sea-view serving from a bay window not from a bathtub. That was probably best. And while James and Jonno stayed in James' room, Ana and I returned to mine. There, I quickly got out my tablet. Took pictures of the bathroom because here in the layout of this bathroom could be a potential solution to a design concern that my client has. Maybe indeed it was a saving grace not to have found that file. ‘So Jess, are you stealing the design?’ No, Ana, I'm merely using it as design cue in the way I want my client to go. When I'd finished with the photos, I sat back on my bed. Propped myself up against the headboard, right leg stretched out along the bed, left leg stayed anchored to the floor, made some notes. ‘Jess, please don't tell me you're working.' I stopped what I was doing, looked at her and said. 'Let me quickly finish this and then I'll put the tablet down.' She'd plopped down on the bed, feet resting near my hips. Her head propped up on one hand facing me at the other end of the bed. 'So, was it good to see James again?' 'It's always good to see James.' 'Oh, don't you be so coy with me.' 'Okay, yes, it is very good to see him again.' Straightening out the already straight bed sheets. 'You know, I've always preferred you for James. The two of you belong together.' Except it was James' actions on the night of Caroline's wedding (Charlotte's sister), that fuelled the fork in our roads. No, I haven't told you about that yet, have I? But my good friend Ana, here, knows because I needed someone to take my side. And she did initially but when James continued to give the same answer she long forgave him for a sin he knowingly or never knowingly committed. All be it, that sin wasn’t towards Ana. Ana on the other hand has not forgiven me for running off and marrying Rex. Soon enough, I might not be able to forgive myself either. I bite down on my lower lip. ‘Anyway look at the way your stars are aligning again.’ I inhaled, because what other reason could there be that we are both on the singledom road? And I inhaled again. 'Anyway,' I say, 'I can see water and feel the White Company's bed sheets, so where's the wine we are supposed to be drinking? 'Oh you remembered?' 'Yep, its the only reason I'm here.' I let out in a chuckle. She shoots me a side eye before sitting up. 'Where's your wine cooler?' She asks looking around. We saw it at the same time and in the wine cooler, two bottles. All my favourites, a Riesling and a Rosé. At first I’m puzzled then realised it must have been her. We poured, we cheered and we drank to Jonno's birthday, a weekend of Rieslings and Rosés and James and I getting back together. Well that last part came from Ana and Ana alone. But deep down inside, butterflies were beginning to take flight. ‘We have more wine at five, compliments of our stay.’ She tells me after she pulls out her phone for me to say hi to the kids, Alexander, Ava-Leigh and the in-laws. I love their family dynamics. Well this side of the family dynamics. Her parents didn't want to know after she decided to marry who she decided she wanted to marry. Mr Jonathan Gardiner, whose Senior Consulting position at one of the Big Four firms was too lowly for them. I mean, its not like he was out robbing Peter to pay Paul. He was not like that so-called husband of mine who I decked out an entire music studio for and still can’t see any music production. No, that was not Mr Gardiner but neither did he fit into their oligarchy circles. Yet, to their surprise Anastasia left all that their lifestyle offered, took nothing, and chose to marry the man she loved. And he in turn chose to give her everything. Though since her sister finally came to visit, things are looking much more promising, at least with her mother. I suppose photos of your grand kids will do that and I was happy for her. Now off the phone, she turns the conversation on me. ‘Jess do you not ever see yourself with kids?’ ‘No. And Ana, no matter how many times you ask, the answer remains the same.’ ‘A little you. A little James. Running around driving the two of you mad.’ She pokes me in the ribs each time so that now, I'm shifting so far left I'm almost falling off the bed, with laughter. ‘First of all...’ I pause. Look out the window to collect those thoughts of mine. 'First of all.' ‘Yes.’ She claps back. 'I don't want kids. I've told you that.' ‘That's because you're not with the right person.’ ‘And James is that person is he?' 'You know he is.' ‘Ana, you of all people know its a little chaotic between James and I.’ 'Listen the kind of chaos that exists between you and James is the kind of chaos that leads to unquenchable fires. Who needs boring boy meets girl and they live happily ever after? Not me and certainly not you. With James you get the snap the crackle and the pop. What you want is the pull and the tug, the desire and the fire. She tops up my Riesling and her Rosé as if we don't have wine tasting shortly. Continues listing all the reasons I belong with James. And I sit still in the moment, goose bumps covering me over with all the reasons James and I should be together, when the door knocks. ‘It's open.’ I manage to say. The door swings open next to me, presenting Mr Adlington-Cellurier, framed in my doorway. He and Jonno acknowledge us. Ana still vogued across my bed, me still sat up against the headboard. ‘Ladies.’ He said to both of us. 'Coming?' My eyes were in his when he said that and I couldn't stop my lungs from inflating then. I'm pleased Ana answered because I didn't trust myself to. Then they left, closed the door behind them. And when they did Ana sat up on the bed, stared me straight on. 'Now tell me, he doesn't hold a flame for you. Tell me you don't hold a flame for him.' I didn’t answer, I just pouted. Then got up, grabbed my red wide-brimmed hat (to give me something to do) and put it on. To distract me from acknowledging the feeling James had just stoked as I went to open the door. The same door he'd just closed, and I opened it. Ana followed. Her long breezy striped dress flowing behind her. 'Ana, you do realise I am still married, right?' 'Really Jess?' She lifted the brim of my wide-brimmed hat. Checked my face. 'Can I just ask, is it to the same man who walked out and left you without a word?' And when I didn't answer that either, only stuck my tongue in my left jaw, she dropped the brim of my hat back. 'Exactly, go tell that to the vicar who married you. I'm sure even he or she saw that was doomed.' I gasped, though I should be familiar with Ana's frank. Still her statement was a gut punch. I took another sip of my Riesling and stayed stuck in my spot. 'Jess.' She said when I hadn't moved. 'Jonno regularly says to me, some people feel the rain. Other people, well they just get wet. 'Those people who feel the rain, that's us. That's you and James.' She taps my glass with hers and on that note we knocked back the rest of our wine and went downstairs.

Well, as the Bible says, ' First shall be last and last shall be first .' Deflated, I rolled into the space for the front of the queue and look out to where the ferry is, seemingly making a mockery of me with the space its creating between us. This entire morning has been a mockery. The design is no closer to being completed than if I never went to the office. I go looking for Monique and well…well we know how that went. And now I’ve just missed the Ferry. Not just any ferry mind. The one with James on it. I tried not to beat myself up, because okay, I never expected to see him until I got to the hotel but to be so close. Ooph. Instead I look around for a coffee shop to ease the pain but decided I could neither be bothered to move me nor the car. Which by the way, is parked facing the blazing hot sun. One arm across my steering wheel, I rest my head on it. With the other, I cheer myself up with the remainder Percy Pig Party Time sweets from my handbag.  My phone now occupies my lap and it pings with a WhatsApp message. Its James, and when I open it, it's a photo—a photo of the back of my car. But it's the back of my car in the spot I'm parked. The photo makes no sense, and I look out again to where the boat is. I dial his number, heart pounding, brain slowing with a confusion. And too, surprise. 'James, where are you?' 'Behind you.' 'What?' 'I'm behind you.' My brain was ever so slow on the matter. So slow, that by the time I realise what's happening and look to open my car door, James is standing over me. I look up and when I see him, I look at him as if he's not the James I know and then back out to sea. A question all over my face. 'Yep its me.' Opening my door. I looked back at him. Smiled and buried my face into the palms of my hands. Then parted them, peek back at him again still glued to my seat. ‘James, Oh my gawd. You have no idea.’  He helps me out the car and I want to play punch him but he scoops me up and I hug him close and stay hugged close to him. 'James Adlington-Cellurier, you shouldn't have.' Pulling my head back to see his face when he puts me down. 'And what miss this?' I'm smiling so big. 'You are crazy, you know that, right?' 'Well, if crazy is what it now takes to have moments like this with you, Jess, then crazy is what it is.' I shake my head but in mock disbelief.  'Plus, I needed to see this for myself.' 'See what?' 'You, actually joining us and on your own.' Wait he ain't hiding out in one of those buildings is he?' Swings around like a Jedi ready for combat. I smile but lower my eyes. 'No, it is just me.' ‘Anyway, there’s no way I was about to get on the Ferry when I couldn’t see you, knowing how you readily get lost.’ 'What?' 'Well, Jess, unfortunately, you are well-known for losing your way.' My eyes widen in disbelief. Are you being serious? 'It's not my fault the Satnav doesn't know where it's going?' 'So now it's the Satnav's fault?' Eyebrows raised. 'Yes.' 'Ok, why did we get lost in Antigua because the Satnav wasn't the reason then?' 'OMG, am I ever gonna live that down?' I bury my face in my left hand, remembering how I got us all royally lost coming back from a Carnival night out. 'The roads weren't signposted.' I give as my defence. He laughed. 'You need a signpost to tell you left from right?' I had to laugh at that too. 'Ok, I give you that.' But he stayed fixated on my left hand, now rested across my lips. Realising why he's staring, I try hiding it. But he'd already clocked it. Catches my hand before I can stick it under my other arm, holds it up between me and him. 'Jess?' He'd stooped so that his face was level with mine. Eyes in my line of sight. The horns behind us kick off. We look back, and the driver behind us is gesturing to get a move on. We look back to the dock to where the next Ferry had arrived and ready for boarding. 'I'll tell you later.' 'Jessica.' 'I promise. I will tell you. Biting down on the left side of my lower lip.' He gives me another hug. Whatever it is, I'm glad you're here. Then we parted ways, went into our vehicles, and back onto our phones.  'Wait Hang on,’ his voice coming through my vehicle's speakers, ‘Ana and Jonno didn't tell me you were coming.’  ‘That’s because I told them not to. I wanted to surprise you.’  'Well just in case you missed it, I am more than pleased you are here.’ I drive on, park, and go quiet. All week, I'd agonised over seeing James again, the surprise on his face, and instead, he's the one to surprise me. I'm the one surprised. I'm the one overwhelmed. I switch down my engine, and guess what? It's James standing by my window again. 'You know, you're supposed to come out the vehicle once you've parked it.' Opening my door. ‘Oh shut it, you.’ We go up top, picking up a chocolate bar, a packet of crisps and a lemonade from the shop before we go to the top deck. Share these between us because I didn't want a whole of anything and watch as the Ferry sails out of port. While I have never been to the Isle of Wight, James tells me he's been with school on something called a Travel Week. Something they did at the end of every school year but to different places, even as far away as France. Like a sleepover but with all of his school friends and without the school work but with lots of games and sporty things and muddy clothes and no one to tell them off. And while he tells it with fond memories, I sit listening and thinking I could not think of anything worse. 'Did girls go too?' 'Pfffft. Everyone went - kids, teachers even some of the moms. Not mine. But I was cool with that. More fun for me.' 'To be fair I can't for the life of me picture Mrs C in such an environment. Yeap. No.' Shook the image out of my head. When he's done coasting down that memory lane, I want to ask about his now situation. What woman has left him over what dream. Charlotte. But doing so, meant I'd have to share mine. I will, but not now—not on this Ferry. We're pulling into our new port and need to return to our vehicles. 'Do you know what James, (exchanging the rest of the chocolate bar for the rest of the crisps), I quite expected the water to be choppy.' 'You're probably thinking of Calais. Have you been to Calais?' I shake my head. 'Neither have I.' He admits. 'I'll pull off somewhere and let you take the lead.' I say to him before we get in our vehicles. Off the Ferry, I do as I say and pull off. He pulls up alongside me, salutes me and then takes the lead. Back on our phones to each other we drive without saying much. 'Jess.' 'James.' 'Just checking as you've gone all quiet on me.' 'I'm here. Simply enjoying the views and the island roads.' 'By chance, does it remind you of being back home?' 'Exactly what I was thinking. A little like driving to the south of the island. Windy roads with the sea on my right and the mountains to my left. Well there aren't any mountains here but its reminiscent.'  'Do you think you'd ever go back to your island to live?' ‘Maybe when I retire but for now, no. You? Because you have options too.’ ‘It depends. If my parents retire to the island then I can see myself spending half my time there and the rest here.’ ‘Your parents? I can see your father retiring back to the Caribbean. Your mother, on the other hand—haha.’ ‘Interestingly, Jess, it's the other way around. Its my mother who wants to retire to the Caribbean.’ ‘What, Mrs C? Ohh, that is interesting.’ ‘Yep. She wants to retire to the villa, sit out in the garden, and paint all year round.’ ‘Must admit, not a bad way to while away your days.’ ‘Nope.’ ‘Jess.’  (When for sometime we’d said nothing.) ‘James.’ ‘You've gone quiet on me again.’ ‘I'm here. Just thinking of how easy it is to talk you even after so long. And that I miss this. I miss having you to talk to. I miss how you and I can just talk so easy about any and everything. Do you know there are things I’ve told you, that I’ve not been able to tell that so called husband of mine. I like how we can be silent in each other's company and they’d be no hoohahs.’  Hoohahs . He's always laughed at that word. ‘Yes. Hoohahs.’ And I laugh too, even though this hoohah is coming from an awful place. ‘Jess, you are going to tell me what's happened, yes?’ ‘James if I don't tell you, then I tell no one.’ ‘I hear you. Hang on, I think we’re here.’ I break behind him as he turns to cross this steep downhill road into the property's car park. Ana and Jonno seemed to have timed us nicely because as we're getting out of our cars, they squeeze in next to us in the car park (drop top down). We wave to each other. Tupac's California Love , is giving their stereo speakers a workout. I throw my arms in the air to shake it out with the song when Ana switches it off. ‘Hey guys.’ I say. But instead of answering me. She says, 'Tupac? or Biggie?' I look at the two of them and see a camp already divided. I look over to James for help who simply says. ‘ Give me Love .’ ‘Two-one.’ Jonno mouths to Ana pleased with himself who then turns to me for support. ‘Ana, I-A Californ-i-a.’ ‘What?’ She shoots back at me and not impressed. I pull a face to say sorry. The three-one gives Jonno licence to pump California Love back through the speakers. James is giving Jonno a man shake and wishing him happy birthday and we (James, Jonno, and I) have a mini jam in the car park, to Ana's chagrin. Our mini jam session is outed by the host, who comes out to greet us. Welcomes James and I to The Terrace Rooms and Wine . Introduces us to the pet dog, Ronnie who snuggles up to Ana, now out of the car. 'Well, that's it for you, Mr Gardiner. You're in the dog house tonight, and Ronnie, well, he gets to sleep in the room with me.' And Jonno, he shuts down that music so fast, we all burst out laughing.

I know this girl has a file of this saved somewhere. But where?   I'm opening and closing files on the laptop, determined to find the one I'm looking for. Fingers thrum the desk. The brain does its best to work out what she'd have saved it under. I tried one other but it wasn't that. I'd give up, except I so badly want to sign off on this design's final part of the project. So I start sending my Assistant a text. Only to realise she's yet to respond to any of my messages this week. Not even the one asking which hospital her mom was at so I could send them some flowers. There are affiliate links in this post and may see me earn commission should you make a purchase. Instead, I dial her number, but again, no answer. No option to leave a voice message either. I'm finding it very strange. I know I told her to take all the time she needed for her mother but this level of dark is concerning. The fingers of my left hand thrum out my leather desk mat again, but this time for a different reason. I pick up my laptop, my handbag, car and office keys and walk down to reception. Finished already? John, the oldest security guard asks, when he sees me coming down the corridor with my stuff. Yes, a very short one today. Well, the weather is good. No point staying indoors when it is so nice outdoors. It is exactly what I'm about to do, but John, can I ask you something. Has Monique, by chance, been in this week? His eyes narrow as if to read through his memory of the week. He wags his head at me. Says no. But didn't you say she's on holiday? Yes, I did, but just thought I'd ask.  Why? Is something the matter? No. No. Just asking. Thank you anyway. Though, you can't really miss Monique can you? Away from you, she's the next best dressed in this building. The younger security guard next to him nods in agreement. Adds we're both always so nicely dressed. That we brought colour to the building and no pun intended. You're such sweet talkers. Anyway, I'm leaving. Take care of yourselves now and I'll see you both next week. As I walk away, I wave them both with my free hand over my head. You too my dear, go enjoy yourself now. Let that husband of yours take you out for a nice lunch. You work too much. I hear you, John. Have a good weekend. I'm ever so grateful my back is turned because the one cup of coffee I've had all morning is ready to resurface itself at the word husband as I go down in the lifts. In the underground car park, I rest my stuff in the booth and steady myself upright on the car until I feel strong enough to swap my strappy sandals out of my weekend bag for the loafers I'm wearing, tan and matching my handbag. But Monique's Houdini act continues to plague me as I key in my destination's postcode. I'd prefer not to lose a husband and my Assistant in the same month. Though the husband had become more and more manipulative, so if you ask me, worth losing but not in the shitstorm I did. I shake my head, breathe. But I can't seem to shake off my concern where Monique is concerned and driving out the car park, I skid some tyres when the guardrail clears in the opposite direction of that instructed. Make a U-turn when possible... Turn around... Recalculating...   I switched the damn thing off before it gave itself a hernia because I at least knew where I was going. There's nowhere near Monique's place to park, so I park at the end of her road and walk back. Ring her doorbell. I've dropped her home a few times but this is the first time I've climbed these stairs. I know she lives with another two twenty something year olds. And that they're a bunch of fun listening to Monique talk about there weekend antics but that's it. I'm looking around the front of the house for signs of life, when a young woman (similar age as her), hair in ice-gold-and-green braids, answers the door. Hi, I say, is Monique in? Instead of answering me, she calls for her friend Shaniqua, who appears at the end of the hallway. The two of them size me up. No one has answered my question yet. And although I may already know the answer, I ask again. 'Is Monique in?' 'Nah, she not in.' Ms Shaniqua says when Ms 'Irie Hair' turns back to her. Okay, I say. Do you know when she'll be back? Once again, Ms 'Irie Hair' turns back to Shaniqua, who says she doesn't know. I feel a big island arrow aimed at my small island frame, so I tell Ms 'Irie Hair' I like her hair to diffuse the launch. No response, just a look down her nose at me, though I stood three clear inches above her. 'Can I help you with anything else?' Stepping back from the door, ready to shut it. 'No, that's okay.' Knowing very well I'd overstayed my welcome on those front steps. But just as I turned off, I quickly turned back to a door nearly shut. Actually, do you know what hospital her mom's at? Her head goes back. So I say never mind if you see her. Can you ask her to call me? Gave them my name. Oh, we know who you are. Ms Irie Hair says in a not so uncertain terms. My face falters. I say thank you and disappear down the short flight of stairs. The front door slams as I do. Safe on the pavement, I had to smell myself. Check my yellow romper had not grown a tear or some nasty stain on it (and it hadn't), then look back at the house. Something..., That was..., Uhm, are those the same set of girls Monique tells me about? With my sunglasses on, I walk back to my car and start the ignition. But instead of driving off, I sit both hands on the bottom of the steering wheel, thumbing it. I'm out of ideas, but I will also run out of time if I continue to sit there any longer. The Satnav's back on because now I need its help. And this time, I have no plans to give it any hernia-inducing issues. Where are all these people going in London on a Saturday morning? Don't they have beds to lie in? I say to no one, some fifteen minutes into my journey as I put some music on for company. But I remember telling Ana I'd call her when I'm on my way, so I do as I hit the motorway. Yes, there was a last-minute cancellation on the last two nights of their stay. And yours truly got a room. Ana and Jonno have promised under Scout's honour not to tell James and Jonno assures me James is unaware. That's my job to tell him. And all week, I've been imagining it, the surprise on his face when I turn up. The anticipation of it consuming my mind, playing out every possible scenario. Just the thought of it now makes my heart race. I'm not sure why, after all, its just James. But then again, we do have history, I argue with myself. But our lives rarely crossed paths unless it was our businesses and that was such a shame. And I'd have to admit it was more me than him. Me trying to make allowances to save a marriage that should have long been cancelled. But there was the other part of me that wanted it to work. That didn't want a failed marriage. Culture Club pops out my speakers when I hang up, leave Ana and Jonno to finish their lunch. We Miss each other Blind on the way to the South Coast. And now he has me thinking of James again. My fingers move to call him, but nerves imprison my hands, holds my thinking ransom. Shit, I've missed my turnoff. I save my Satnav from another hernia and make the roundabout turn it's barking at me as if it's my Drill Sergeant. Why doesn't it have the manners to say please. Back en route, I set myself free, call James because now I'm dying to talk to him. Well hello. To what do I owe this great pleasure? I swear, he picked up before the first ring ended, and I felt so relieved. Nothing, I'm just saying hi! Jess, you okay? Tone doubtful. Okay, you got me. That's not strictly true. Are you going to the Isle of Wight? I ask, fully knowing the answer. Yes. I'm just about to drive onto the Ferry. Are you? Yes. Okay. I sense his caution in speaking further and offer that it's just me. Do you want a lift? I can turn back and come get you. James, you just said you're about to get on the Ferry. Yes, but doesn't matter. I'd rather come and get you. He says as calmly as ever as if he'd only needed to drive back into Portsmouth or Lymington or somewhere like that, not a three-hour trek back into London. It's okay; I'm only a few minutes away. I may be last on but only a few minutes away. Do you want me to come out the queue and wait for you? No, James, that's fine. You can wait for me on the Ferry. Speak now....my front wheels are going on the ramp. James, it's fine, honestly, I'll see you on the Ferry. Laughing. Wait, why are you laughing? Have you driven onto a ferry before? No, but how hard can it be? Don't we all just roll on, one metal duckling after another? Alright, I'll see you shortly. Shit. What? Shit Jess, what is it? I think I've just passed the same... Sorry, can I call you back? SILENCE You're not going to catch this Ferry, are you? I don't think so. Jess. I can feel his disappointment. I know. I'm so sorry. Listen, let me call you back. ---------------------- I finally find my way to the dock as the Ferry sails away. That ferry now making the distance between me and him a big one again. PS - Monique's flatmates - what do you think is going on there?

'Jess, I know I had to drag you out with me today, but...' (and she pauses)' Jonno and I are going to for his birthday and we'd love for, you to come.' 'You are going to where? What on earth is there?' 'Mmm, wine, water and The White Company's bed sheets.' 'Oh yeah. Anna, darling listen. I'm very aware of your and Jonno's bedtime antics (chuckling), so I'll pass. Besides, I know you don't need a third wheel.' She has this prissy face on and it stays stuck. 'What?' I eventually ask because I sense that that grin she's now developing, has nothing to do with what I'd just said. 'James is coming.' She eventually adds. I pulled back from her but stayed turned to her. Shook my head. 'I... No.' Eyes said everything her mouth wasn't. I shook my head even more, got up and excused myself for the ladies. 'I guess you're not aware he's newly single.' She says to the back of me. The statement hit me like a flip switch, I whipped back around. And because I did, I now danced around like a barefooted idiot on hot coals. From the corner of one eye, I saw one lady gasp. But Anna, my best friend, she had her hand cupped over her nose and mouth, desperately stifling a squeal. I would have laughed, too, except I saw stars from the foot I'd just stubbed. So I limped back to my chair. 'I'm sorry, Jess, but that. Was hilarious.' Fighting a straight face between her words. She was laughing but I was gritting teeth from all my pains. The one from my embarrassment, the one from the pain and the one from the pain of my embarrassment. 'Where did you find this place anyway?' When the pain structure of my face changed down. And when her joy subsided. 'I follow them on social media.' She did some taps on her phone then spun it round the right way up to me. 'Ooh nice. Very nice. Swiping and sliding up before handing it back to her. 'So is that a yes? Because we're going for three nights, can you do three?' 'I most definitely can't do three but I can do two.' She picks up her phone, makes a call. 'Who are you calling?' 'The Hotel.' 'What?' 'Well you said yes.' I'm about to respond when she taps her forefinger to the top of her upper lip. The one not holding her phone. 'Hi, this is Anastasia Gardiner, we have two rooms booked with you...' I busied myself with a text message. 'How about two nights? One night?' She was saying to the person on the phone. 'Oh that's a shame. Ok thanks have a good day.' My face hung with the disappointment of it. She puts her phone down, sucks in her lower lip and is just as quickly back on it. 'Hi, it's Anastasia, I think I just spoke with you. Do you have a waiting list?' I'm frantically shaking my head at her. 'Can we be placed on it? 'I've a friend I'd really like to join us, if even just for one night.' My hands are now swiping my under chin in a bid for her not to make a fuss but she gets off the phone. 'Ok, so you're on the waiting list.' I must admit, my disappointment shifts down a degree and instead swings with a just a little excitement! ______________ Where do you think they're off to for that birthday weekend? Will luck fall in Jessica's favour?

...Can you rely on it? 'Travelling, it leaves you speechless then turns you into a storyteller.' ― Ibn Battuta And you'll want to tell all the right stories of your worldly travel pursuits: the new cultures experienced, the never before powdery-white sandy beaches you laid flat on, those adventure safaris of a lifetime. Yet, amid the excitement, the anticipation, it's important to consider travel's "what ifs". I'll share with you a little story (not mine). You're on a snorkelling trip, and, in an ill-advised attempt to communicate with a clownfish, you accidentally swallow some water, leading to a severe case of food poisoning. If push comes to shove, should the worst happen, can you rely on your travel insurance to hold up their end of the bargain? Will your medical expenses be covered should you suffer a banana boating injury? A 2023 survey by Which highlighted the five (5) most common travel claims, resulted from: Medical Costs - 28% Cancellations - 27% Transport Delays - 25% Lost possessions - 21% Damaged possessions - 18% Travel Insurance It's there to assist and place you back in the financial position you were in before those unexpected events disrupted your trip. Travel insurance is peace of mind. Unforeseen medical emergencies, trip cancellations, lost luggage, and other unpredictable events can and do occur while travelling. But how do you know if your travel insurance will truly have your back when you need it most? Essential Elements of Your Travel Insurance Policy Medical : Emergency Medical Expenses : Covers the cost of medical treatment costs should you fall ill or get injured while travelling. It's crucial to check the extent of coverage, especially for destinations with high medical costs, eg USA.
Medical Evacuation : In severe cases, you might need to be transported to a medical facility or back home. Check your policy includes medical evacuation, as this can be extremely costly. Trip Cancellation and Interruption : Cancellations : Should you find yourself having to cancel a trip due to unforeseen circumstances - illness, a family emergency, natural disasters, this coverage can reimburse your non-refundable expenses. Do we check that our travel policies cover cancellation? Yes. But how often do we check the cancellation limits?

Imagine: You've booked the safari adventure of a lifetime for you and the other half! You're ready to rub elbows with lions, gossip with giraffes, and maybe even do the cha-cha with a cheetah. The whole shebang sets you back a cool £5,000 per person . But on your way to the airport, you receive a call, the mother-in-law has slipped on a banana peel. There is that horror show to return to, but now you must cancel your safari trip. Only to discover your travel insurance, the supposed knight in shining armour, only covers cancellations up to £3,000 per  person .

I know that isn't a shortfall you want to contend with along with the mother in law's.
Trip Interruption : If your trip is cut short for similar reasons, trip interruption coverage helps cover the cost of unused portions of your trip and any additional expenses incurred in getting home. Lost or Delayed Baggage : Lost Baggage : This is reimbursement for your belongings should your luggage become lost during transit.
Baggage Delay : If your luggage is delayed, this coverage assists with the financial purchase of essential items until your bags arrive. Personal Liability : It covers legal expenses should you accidentally cause injury or damage to property while travelling. Theft: 'It's not going to happen to me.' Ah but it could. Therefore check your single item limit. Ensure it covers most if not all of the cost of the most expensive item you're taking on holiday. Check the total limits of cover too. Check it's a dequate for the total of your belongings. And because, I'm good like that here's a little checklist to bear in mind: Expensive Electronics: Laptops, tablets, smartphones, drones and cameras. Jewellery and Watches: Your engagement ring, your Audemars Piguets and other jewellery. Their high value may result in them not being covered unless specifically declared. Sports Equipment: Golf clubs, skis, snowboards, or scuba diving gear often require specific coverage. Designer Clothing and Accessories: Your Sophia Webster Rosette sandals are summer holiday ready. But what if you were to lose them partying on a yacht off Capri ? Prescription Glasses and Sunglasses: Costly to replace and travellers often forget to ensure they are covered for loss or damage. Musical Instruments. Personal Medical Equipment: Items like CPAP machines, insulin pumps, or other medical devices may require special coverage. Travel Documents: While passports and other essential documents are usually covered, check replacement costs and additional travel expenses incurred due to loss are covered also.
Factors Affecting Reliability Did You Read the Fine Print Insurance policies are very often dense, jargon-filled documents, and it's understandable that reading through those documents is a daunting task. But, taking the time to understand what is covered and, just as important, what is not, is crucial. Paying attention to those exclusions and limitations empowers you and puts you in control of your travel insurance, ensures you're not caught off guard when you need it most. Let's face it: no one wants their insurance to take a vacation of its own when they need it most. Checking whether the  coverage limits  are sufficient for your needs is not just important; it's essential. Travelling to a country with high medical costs, check adequate medical coverage limits are in place. Or how about that six-week odyssey you've booked? What are the chances that your policy trip limit covers the full length of this trip? This check ensures your policy provides adequate protection for your specific circumstances. Doing this, you're taking a proactive step towards your financial security on your travels. Understanding the claim process  before an emergency occurs is crucial. Knowing what documentation is required and how to submit a claim ensures you're prepared, can act quickly in a crisis. Should there be an emergency, should you slip on a banana peel yourself while styling it along Bondi at ten o'clock in the morning and need emergency assistance? Do you know if your insurance provider is just a phone call away? Or are they a tomorrow morning or 48 hour away phone call away? You need 24/7 emergency assistance emergencies don't adhere to business hours Researching insurance  providers is important  in deciding a reliable policy. Are their products 5-star Defaqto rated? Do they have a good reputation? What do other travellers say about their experiences with claims and customer service? This type of research provides insight into their reliability and customer service, helps you make that informed decision and too ensures you're not left in the lurch when you need your insurance. Common Pitfalls to Avoid Travel insurance policies often contain limitations and exclusions. Know what they are in your policy and how they impact the reliability of your cover. For example, some policies may not readily cover pre-existing medical conditions . Be sure to disclose any pre-existing conditions and understand how your policy handles them. If the plan is to engage in activities, the likes of skiing, scuba diving, marathon running, swimming with dolphins or other adventure sports, check that these are covered. It may simply be an extension of cover for what they consider high-risk activities . I briefly mentioned this earlier but I will do so again. Single-article limits  are another to consider. You do want your new Sophia Webster Rosette sandals, you just got for your birthday, to be covered and for the full amount should your luggage go missing. Similarly, if your claim is £180 and your chosen excess is £150, is it worth claiming? Its worth noting that incidents occurring while under the influence of alcohol or drugs  are often not covered. Being aware of such exclusions eliminates unpleasant surprises. And back to that all important question... Can You Rely on Your Travel Insurance? Its a lifeline in some of travels' unexpected events, but its reliability depends on understanding and choosing the right policy suitable to you. Carefully evaluating the coverage, reading the fine print, and understanding the claim process, will see you travel confidently, knowing you have a safety net. As we say, 'Preparation is key', key to feeling confident in your travel insurance. So before you embark on that next adventure, take the time to review and select a travel insurance policy   that offers comprehensive and reliable protection. Because should the worst happen, having the right travel insurance cover from the time you book that holiday, to take-off and touchdown back at home will make all the difference!

I'm dilly-dallying a little as Anna is late and that is very unlike her. Military when it comes to punctuality. Though it's more likely that it's London in its current state that has delayed her. London is all happy today. High on dopamine. The sun and shine, in on the celebration, dancing amid the colours, music, people parading its streets. I'm conscious of the effect these substances have on me. Too much of and I overdose. And so, while I had the willpower, I tore myself away, crossed the park to where she booked us lunch. The Peninsula London Hotel's eighth-floor restaurant. With its prestigious SW1X postcode that I imagine the hotel specifically chose. The location, too, suited it. And, too, rustled a few feathers since it opened in September 2023. I remember, as Adlington & Co. were part of the design team. And sometime after opening, James booked us all a celebratory dinner in one of the famed chef's private dining rooms. Us, Anna, myself, and our significant others. Mine declined, so I never went. He declined most if not everything James and Charlotte invited us to. And when I eventually questioned it, it sparked an argument. Said he didn't like the relationship between James and I. So what did I do? I did all I could to show him there was nothing between James and me. Guess what? That, too, was cause for more arguments. Eventually, I dropped it. I stopped making excuses to James and James stopped inviting us.   I breathed deep realising now it was his small phallus energy that caused that and nothing to do with James. Or me. Exhaled. But I remember having real cause to go to James' office one day and him swiping a leading design publication across his desk to me. Pages open to a glorious write-up of the Peninsula London, his full name, James Adlington-Cellurier , spread eagle across the fold-out. The absolute pleasure on his face. We spoke less and less by then, but I was truly happy for him. That smile plastered itself across my face as I glided past the doorwoman and the enormous glass door she'd swung open for me. I'm unsure who smiled first, but she was smiling, too. Inside, eyes draw across an open space and out to the court yard where a Bentley Bentayga waited. James had once asked if I knew what a good measure of a luxury hotel was apart from the pool, spa, butler service and a stool for my handbag. (We were working on one of our first projects together.) I'd said no because I truly didn't. 'It's the lobby', he said. Now standing in this lobby where space is a luxury not a premium, I can see it. And too truly distinguish trademarks of Adlington & Co. in the expansive, light-filled, three-floor ceilinged lobby I'm standing in. Inspiration pulled from contemporary Britain — not that they had to go anywhere to do so. Its full display, I'm sure, best admired from the pianist's location three floors up. And today, this very British space hums with a decidedly British affair: afternoon tea and conversations about the weather. Seeing the said property in person, I'm quietly proud as I walk around. Well, I've never stayed in a Peninsula Hotel . Still, based on my recollection of a Bond movie I've watched twice (once, while half asleep), I can see they brought the hallmarks of their Hong Kong-based Peninsula chain with them: luxury, glamour, thoughtful service, and their renowned white suit, gloved and chin-strapped pillbox-capped personnel. And even if they hadn't, their reputation as a masterclass unrivalled in hospitality precedes them. Along with the lift I'd just exited, my expectations had peaked. And so too had others, seeing how all but one table remained free on this eighth floor terrace. And I am ever so pleased when the waiting staff leads me to it. I sit. Observe Belgravia's leafy tree tops and its immediate neighbours' rooftops. Across the road, the Lanesborough Hotel, a little off to my left, Park Tower Knightsbridge. Hilton Parklane stands out, lauding its presence over its swanky W1K postcode and a little way up from there, I watch the Dorchester Hotel's flags flap in the mid-day breeze. The memories tagged to these places start my hurt afresh. I breathed deep. Again. We'd dined or stayed in all of them. I'd footed those bills, too. Matter of fact, I'd footed the bill for every damn thing, our house, the car, our holidays, expenses, groceries, his family back in the Caribbean. My sanity. ME. Exhaled. The red flags were there waving at me, but I chose not to see them, to believe differently. Now what? He's laughing at my expense and pretending to be the victim in the shitstorm he left me in. I fixed my face to the criss-crossed sky, with its own theatre and performance choreographed by Heathrow. I'm beginning to think I should have sent one of the hotel's Rolls-Royce Phantom IIs or hybrid Bentley Bentaygas for 'Miss Anna' when she turns up. All five feet, nine inches of her, escorted by a waiting member of staff. Tanned legs strut out from under her fitted mini flippy pink hemmed dress. Hun, I am so sorry I'm late. London is on another of its highs today. I know, right. Getting up to match her energy with a big warm hearted hug. How are you? How are the babies? How's Jonno? I ask in quick succession as we sit. Ohh! Handing me the other bag she's about to put on the bag stool. A Harrods jute grocery shopper for life. What's this? Peering into the bag. And when my brain comes alive, asked. Has Jonno been home? No. No? I shot back, my face confused, fixed not to move. His parents are here. Flew in yesterday for his birthday. Well, that's what they say. We both know they're here for the babies. We finished that sentence in unison and a light hearted chuckle between us. And I hugged the sugar apples and tamarind package they'd so thoughtfully brought me to my chest. Mr and Mrs Gardiner are so sweet. Tell them I say thanks. You know, you can always come around like you used to and tell them. Plus, Jonno and I miss you. The babies, too, and... it'll get you out of the house. ( The house. ) No longer wishing to meet her gaze, I dipped my head into my hand. Pinched on the upper bridge of my nose to starve the emotions about to threaten me. Not too untimely, our server comes over. A sharing basket of sourdough bread and butter in hand for the table. Tops up my water glass and that of Anna's. And as Anna is yet to look at the drinks menu, agrees to return. Jess, how are you? I am... fine. No. Really. How are you? Eyes daggering me. I look her way to tell her I'm okay. She presses those lips of hers together instead of pressing me. That disbelieving look on but she parks it, and I am grateful. Gosh, it's so nice out here. Giving the terrace its full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree attention. And I nod in agreement and take a sip from my glass. What are you drinking? Looking at my glass Tramonto. Tramonto. What's that? Flicking back through the cocktails menu. I list the ingredients. She stops flicking those pages. Instead looks at me dead on. The ingredients stopping short of any alcohol, set a question on her face, not her lips. I shake my head. Oh, thank god for that. And waves to our server, who returns, takes her drinks order, and too enquires about our food choices. But we are yet to look at that. On the card is a seven-course tasting menu by the hotel's Michelin-starred chef, which Anna suggests we try. It looks a treat but when our server highlights it can take up to three hours, we both decline. Instead, we opt for something more freeing of our time. Besides, the beetroot starter and smoked monkfish main on another menu sounded delightful, so that's what we ordered.   The thoughtful service I mentioned earlier—the servers have it—kept our drinks, water, bread and butter topped up as the afternoon went on. The clientele, too (a little more reserved than our usual hot spot at SexyFish )—relaxed into their meal, sipped on world-class wines and exchanged soft conversations in the light and spacious surroundings. And I was grateful for it—the peace and quiet, that is. The warm sunshine, too. We'd not too long gone through our starters, English Mora Farm Beetroot and St Austell Bay Mussels, simple but elegant dishes, when they set down our mains.   Roasted Monkfish, Eel and Red pepper miso with its delicate, beautiful flavours. Anna had swallowed her last forkful of Veal when she professed we needed to look at British food in an entirely new light. And I nodded in wholehearted agreement. Ooh, hun, I have the most adorable thing to show you. Fishing her phone from her tote and swiping to a video of her goofing around with the kids. A soca song plays in the background, one I'm often dancing to with the kids. The youngest pleading with her,   Mom do your bum like Aunty Jess. Do your bum like Aunty Jess.  She replies I can't do my bum like Aunty Jess . The little one asks why, and the older one quips, ' Because she's not cool like Aunty Jess .' Oh my god, I adore your kids. Cackling. A noise much above anything happening on that terrace. They miss you, Jess. Giving me a sympathetic smile, and I went quiet. Swirl my wild strawberry dessert around my dish that had arrived. Whats happening in that beautiful mind of yours? She'd asked that after we'd said nothing for a little while. My head down, eyes staring into the dessert; I unconsciously made swirls in. I exhaled, exasperated by it all. The truth is I was still processing it, trying to work out how I was now on the brink of losing everything I'd worked so hard for. The pain re-masking my face. Jess. She paused. Does James know? Oh gosh, no. Well I haven't spoken to him. Are you going to? I guess, but not right now. The truth is, I couldn't deal with James' 'I told you he was no good for you.' Jess. She paused again. Have you and (she flicked her chin in the direction of out there) spoken since? No. Has he offered any explanation? Offered any apology? Anything? Nothing. Nothing? Nothing. That little... She catches herself and instead calls our server, ordering more drinks. You know, because some of his friends on the island are hubby's friends, word has come back to him. He's been saying there's no love lost between the two of you. No shit. Well, Anna, both you and I know that that's bullshit. Rather it's his way of dealing with his horseshit. The. Liittle. Shiit. She'd dragged out her Russian accent to say that. The combination of which had the two of us in stitches. Hun, it's going to be okay. You know that, yes. She'd pulled up her chair next to mine. I nodded. Raw emotions once again fought to unseat me, and too resurface my meal. But I sat steadfast, Anna holding my hand, our heads resting against each others. It's going to be okay. And on that rooftop in Belgravia, I cried. _________________ Brooklands by Claude Bosi Good for : Impressing guests, Closing a deal, Excellent service, Experimental English food Where : 8th Floor, Peninsula London Hotel _______________ Disclaimer : While this is both a restaurant review and a creative piece, the name of the architect/interior designer has been changed for the latter purposes.

The sun cloaked the chill well. The difference in the air very noticeable when it set below the horizon. By the way, are you going to this dinner later or not? Asking as I motioned for us to go inside. Jess, we both go, or neither of us does. Honestly James, its okay. It's not as if any of these people know me anyway. That is not the point. I see. I say adding that I didn't bring anything to wear to a rehearsal dinner. And not just any rehearsal dinner but a society-filled rehearsal dinner going by the who was who in the hotel's car park earlier. His ' you could attend in what you're wearing ' (caused me to look at him side on.) ' And still be best dressed .' He continued. Oh really. Looked at him full-on this time. Yes really. Either way, it's not an issue since neither of us is going. I made no plans to argue. After all, I stood to benefit from him not going. We could stay in, drink wine, get drunk. Party like only West Indians know how to—well, West Indians, only one. James, a half of one. Private schooling, that international accent of his, home in the countryside and trips every other winter back to a very French European St Barths, insufficient to ground him in any way West Indian. Okay, then tell me what are our plans for the rest of the evening? There's another restaurant downstairs; we can try that or order room service. Either was fine with him, but it was now up to me to choose. I'm beginning to like the sound of all of that. I say either is fine. Though I lie. My thoughts are firmly embedded in room service because then we never need to leave this room. By the way, I can't recall if I told you or if you realised but there's a spa here with a pool, sauna, and steam room. Any chance you brought a bikini with you? We could go check it out. I'm liking his thinking because yes I did bring my bikini. The one I thought I'd have to wait until next summer to wear. Although in my head, my plan for the pool was tomorrow morning to show off this bikini. But tonight works just as well and I say, ' I'm ok with that too ' as casually as ever while I close the balcony doors behind us. But the entire time, my four chambers trip over their beats in excitement.   The debate is on. Which to go to first (pool, steam room or sauna) while I try to find this bikini I tossed in earlier when his phone goes, breaking that up. Charlotte called back. Well, we both now had dinner reservations. I guess she wanted James there more than she didn't want me there. Eyes dart to the wall in front of me and then across to James, who looked at his watch. Jess, how quickly can you get ready? James, how quickly do you need me to get ready? Eyes still on him. Charlotte had cut it close to the bone, giving us fifteen minutes to get ready and get over there. Over there being some two minutes by car across the hotel's grounds. Over there being the restaurant of the famous TV chef James Martin, whose place, along with the hotel, they'd hired out in its entirety for the weekend. So, while James may have been okay with me attending this dinner in what I'd arrived in, I, on the other hand, had done my research and was not. Yes, a certain search engine had done its share of feeding me small plates of information after my initial search of Chewton Glen, so yes, I was prepared. And while I hadn't brought anything specifically to wear to a rehearsal dinner, I did bring an emergency outfit. A navy blue romper with dainty polka dots in gold. Figure-hugging with an underwire bustier, spaghetti straps and a belt.  Because it's an outfit I've worn before, I swap out the skinny black belt it came with for some golden newness. This I marry with  a pair of chunky drop earrings, bangles, and heels all of the same hue. Though I could have kept the belt as it compliments the oversized black blazer I was about to throw on. With my pixie haircut quickly teased up and off my face, I added a few sprits of Carolina Herrera's Good Girl.  And in my haste to finish trip over myself, one slinky heel at a time, coming out of the bathroom. It may have been my sudden appearance of an-all-changed-me in the hallway or the smack down of my heel on the floor but James looks up from the new watch he's about to put on to finish off his attire, surprised. Does so at the same time I support myself on the door frame with one hand. The other adjusting a slingback. The spaghetti strap of the same arm drapes off my shoulder down my arm in an effort that's teasing to undress me. He paused but every second stretched. Fixed eyes, spoke an entire language unspoken. Then the darn room phone went. That was the butler, James said, the car is ready, when he'd hung up the receiver and looked back at me. The room stayed still. My breath found a rhythm; each inhale and exhale fell into a steady pattern, but I dismissed it and quickly. There was no mistaking that look on his face—intense. A silent storm brewed behind those eyes of his, pierced through through me, making my pulse quicken despite any outward calm. Um, are you ready? Yeap. Then we shouldn't keep the car waiting. Ah yes, the car. I stammered with a confused chuckle. My mind struggling to recall what is we were supposed to be doing. It wasn't our butler James from earlier who drove us to the restaurant, but another, though he was just as chatty. Almost drowned out James finally telling me I look lovely to which I replied he didn't look bad himself. And he did not, a dark grey rolled neck jumper over an even darker grey pair of smart trousers and shoes and a jacket over his arm. And then we arrived at the restaurant. Out of the car, I pull my jacket snug. They must have borrowed nearby McLarens' wind tunnel machine,  I tell myself as I struggle with the ten steps to the restaurant. The restaurant's host is on the ball, swings the door open as we approach, to a room brimming with high spirits. Music played but only in the background—no competition for the swells of laughter and chatter from the congregations formed. It then dawned on me that apart from James, there was unlikely anyone else inside the restaurant I knew. To add to my chagrin, I'd forgotten my little chit-chat and small-talk handbag, and that left me feeling slightly awkward. But I kept my smile on, though it suddenly dipped to a nervous one, slowed my steps. He reached back for me. A sense of security made me take both his hands, and he looked back at me. You okay? I gave him the rest of that nervous smile for an answer. Jayymes, my old friend. Long time no see. James turns back from me to where one man jaunts over from his congregation to him. How he made James out in this low light is beyond me but his legs took him to James while his eyes stayed on me.  James, my old friend, he said again, giving James a handshake with one hand and a man pat on the back with the other. Hey, long time. Long time. James replied. I didn't know you were going to be here. Why? This exuberant man asked. Would you have cancelled your date? Still looking at me as he said that. 'Tell me, who is the Miss Universe you have here with you? This is Jessica. Hay-lo Jess-e-cah. He stops. Turns to James. Wait, this is Jessica? He turns back to me. You're Jessica? In acknowledgement, I smile at him wide-eyed. Glance from him to James and back, then waved. The same wiggly finger wave I gave Charlotte earlier. But he instead takes my hand. Kisses it. All without unlocking from mine. Jess-e-cah! He repeated it with much excitement. How are you? I am wonderful. You? I'd have to agree with you on that. I catch James watching him closely. Friend, huh? Scrutinising James. Jess, this is Fredric. Now that name I'd heard before. And if it was the same Fredric, the something of a womaniser who had moved to LA, I knew well to keep my distance and stay wary of his charmful charm. He'd now turned himself and James (still holding my hand) towards a congregation. Friend, huh, now where have I heard that before? Patting James on his back again. I realised why I'd heard of Fredric. But now the bigger question was: how had Fredric come to know about me?

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In this post, every phrase is a toast to life's celebrations, success, joy and most exquisite moments.  Let's pop, fizz, clink and sip! Sunday Fun day Champagne Quotes Sipping Champagne, perhaps on a lazy Sunday afternoon:  Easy like Sunday morning, bubbly like Sunday afternoon. Cheers to lazy Sundays and sparkling company. Sunday Funday checklist: Champagne ✔️, Good Vibes ✔️, Unwind ✔️ Pop, fizz, Sunday bliss. Because every day is a celebration Champagne makes you feel like it's Sunday and better days are just around the corner. - Marlene Dietrich Those Joyous Moments Celebrate every tiny victory. Sip Champagne for no reason at all. May your joy be as deep as the ocean and your sorrows as light as its foam. Cheers! (Irish Blessing) In the midst of celebration, let the bubbles remind us that life is sparkling and full of possibilities. Toasting to the journey, not just the destination. Here's to life's beautiful detours. Cheers to the nights I'll always remember with friends I'll never forget! Humorous and Witty Champagne Quotes for a Light-hearted Touch Champagne: because no great story ever started with someone eating a salad. Champagne – because adulting is hard. I'm not addicted to Champagne; we're just in a very committed relationship. I'm not saying I'm Wonder Woman; I'm just saying no one has ever seen me and Wonder Woman in the same room together. Everyone should believe in something. I believe I should be on a yacht drinking champagne. Romance and Love-Themed Champagne Quotes Sipping Champagne with you is like a kiss that lasts forever. In the bubbles of Champagne, I find echoes of your laughter and the sparkle of your eyes. Love is like Champagne , effervescent and delightful, making every moment special. Our love is as timeless as the bubbles in Champagne—forever sparkling and full of joy. Love me like Saturday night, like three glasses of champagne, like the room is spinning, like you’re drunk on my love. ― C.J. Carlyon 6. Cheers to a love that's as bubbly and effervescent as the finest Champagne. For those moments of achievement and those moments of success A toast to the dreamers, the doers, and the ones who turn their visions into victories. - Unknown Champagne is the drink of the accomplished; sip, savour, and celebrate your triumphs. - Unknown Cheers to the milestones conquered and the goals yet to be achieved. - Unknown Your success story deserves a bubbly narrative. Pour, clink, repeat. - Unknown Every achievement is a cork-popping moment waiting to happen. - Unknown Champagne: the taste of success,  the scent of accomplishment. - Unknown What was Dom Perignon's famous quote? Come quickly, I am tasting the stars! - Dom Pérignon I only drink Champagne on two occasions, when I am in love and when I am not. - Coco Chanel Champagne is the only wine that leaves a woman beautiful after drinking it. - Madame de Pompadour I'll drink to that. - Various (often attributed to Bette Davis) I only drink Champagne when I'm happy, and when I'm sad. Sometimes I drink it when I'm alone. When I have company, I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I am not hungry and drink it when I am. Otherwise I never touch it—unless I'm thirsty. – Lily Bollinger Sip-worthy Champagne Quotes from Writers Pleasure without Champagne is purely artificial. - Oscar Wilde One holds a bottle of red wine by the neck, a woman by the waist, and a bottle of Champagne by the derriere. - Mark Twain Great love affairs start with Champagne and end with tisane. - Honoré de Balzac I've highlighted my favourite champagne quotes, now feel free to share  your favourite and fun quotes about Champagne  in the comments below. Let's create a collection of sparkling sayings! Better yet, why not plan a champagne-themed event? Think much laughter, clinking glasses, candlelit moments and enjoy these effervescent delights with friends. Remember, the more, the merrier!

Joshua still hadn't said anything when he, too, turned the corner to walk towards their suite. And as they turned the corner, he stopped, stared back at her. She, too, stopped, eyes questioning. But she caught the answer when his eyes never blinked off the blazer she still had on her shoulders.  Ohh. She dashed back after Harry. He'd since made it into his suite, causing her to knock.  Lemaruh, Lemaruh, Lemaruh. Swinging the door open as if expecting her. You know, you can always use that key I gave you.  Mr Langdon...  She paused, refrained from finishing her sentence. Instead, she removed his jacket.  'Thank you.' She said and handed his jacket to him. Thank you, she said again, and for earlier, she took her hand back and left him standing in his doorway. She'd reached the end of his corridor and returned to where she'd left Josh but was yet to hear Harry's door click close. Josh, however, had walked on and stood inside their suite, holding their door open. She paused, feeling a little awkward about wearing another man's jacket. All be it an honest mistake. Both Joshua and Harry had worn navy blue jackets, (Josh to match her dress). But at the dinner party, someone had put Harry's jacket on the back of her chair with her handbag. Back at their suite's door, no one or anything moved except for the cold air from the aircon rushing past them. Hands hugged her front again and possibly for far too long, leaving Josh to leave the door open and walk away to the bedroom. Now inside the suite, she closed the door, too overwhelmed by the evening to follow him. Instead, she sat huddled over herself in the living room, reconfiguring what she'd planned to say. Josh crossing paths with her in Harry's presence like that, as innocent as that was, was an attrition she hadn't accounted for.  His feet appeared under her nose. Looked up. He stood there, bathrobe in hand. A startled Lemara stood up to where he put the robe over her. She said,  Thank you , adjusting her arms into the robe to wrap in some warmth, her low-scooped back and spaghetti strap dress did not afford her. Again, he walked away, but this time, it was to the temperature gauge on the wall, and he turned it up.  Josh, can we talk? He was on his way back to the bedroom when she'd said that. But he turned and sat, arms outstretched across the top of the sofa perpendicular to where she stood, staring up at her. That countenance of his gave nothing away of what he felt or thought. He'd still not spoken when she finally sat down, refusing to break the impasse.  Josh... He didn't budge. He didn't blink. Simply sat there with his bottom lip folded in. If Lemara was awaiting his help finishing her sentence as he sometimes did, he was not forthcoming. But what was he to finish when she herself was unsure of what she was saying. She didn't know how to continue her sentence. The words were there. Like the French, she learned part of the way through secondary and then dropped. Well, some of them. But what was there, she knew not how to string them together. Instead, she sat crouched over her knees, hands steepling her forehead. Josh, I am going to admit to being silly, foolhardy even. What else are you admitting to?  Oh gawd does he know? She'd   winced at his question, quickly made eye contact and looked away again. There was nothing on that face she could read. Neither did she have the nerve to look back at him but felt his stare on. He still hadn't said much else, leaving her to send herself into whatever jail she had opened the door to with that statement. Lemara, is that the end of that statement?  When for some time, she had not spoken. No, not entirely. So what are you saying? Josh, I am saying that possibly you and I'. She paused. You and I, what? He pressed.  The words at the tip of her tongue but her lips refrained from spitting them out.  I can't go through with this engagement. Sorry, what? Deadpanned. Her being bore the full thwocks of those two words, he batted back at her as he sat forward. And now that those words had finally left her lips, she became a blubbering mess. Lemara, I'm gonna need you to stop with the tears and talk to me because I am not fully understanding what you're saying. Where is this coming from?   I don't know. You don't know. Unlike Joshua, very much unlike Josh, his voice was raised now. Em, what kind of answer is that? I'm going to need you to make this make sense. Is it something I've done? Something I didn't do?   Josh, it's not you. Shook her head while she said that but could not look at him.  So if it's not me, what does that mean? Baby, you and I don't struggle with communication. OK, the last few days were the first notch on the board, but apart from that, we don't. We don't struggle for money. And we definitely, most definitely do not struggle with intimacy and that's even after you moved out, so help me understand where this is coming from? Hands covered her face. A little while ago, her plan sounded okay in her head. But now that she'd started to execute it, it was all round wrong. Too guilt-ridden to look at him. The truth was what she wanted to tell but that truth didn't seem to make sense anymore. That silence sat between them for a little.  Em. He started again, massaging the space between his eyes. What is going on, please?  Still, she said nothing.  Lemara, this is where I need you to unbottle those thoughts of yours and speak.  Apart from Josh's audible exhale of lost patience, no one said a word then.    Em, is it to do with your sister? Do you need to speak to someone, anyone at all, about what happened with Lia?' His tone had gone soft. He'd asked her that before and she declined. It was a pointless exercise in her view because she was not ready to discuss it. Discussing it would make it real.  No. She finally said. No, what? What is no? It's none of those things. It's. None. Of. Those. Things. He sounded out those words, sounding as exhausted as she was. OK, Em, between the time you and I got engaged and just now, what has happened? Nothing.  Nothing. He sounded that out, too. Ok, so when I asked you to marry me in front of all those people, and you got down next to me on your knees in tears and said yes. Did you not mean it?  He was distraught now. No. I mean, Yes. She'd looked at him to deliver that answer because that much was true. He looked at her, his face a question. Tell you what... (looking at his watch) it's gone 2 in the morning. Let's sleep on this. Let's discuss it after we've had some sleep. Better still when we get back to London. I've slept on it. You've, you've slept on it? One hand crossed his front as he sat back in the chair. The fingers of the other readopted playing Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto across his forehead. The room went quiet. A silence only broken by life leaving his body in a notable exhale. When you left this morning, where did you go?' Frustration was on the march now. To my room. Lemara, this is your room. He shot back.  To the other room. She quickly corrected. And the rest of the day? That's where I've been all day until not so long ago when you saw me. I came here first and was going to find you when we bumped into each other. His entire tone had changed at the top of that next set of questions, causing her to look up to finally face him.  Em, I recommend we speak to someone because you've been bottling this and it can't be very good for you. Even you must admit that this is not making sense? You've done your best to avoid talking about it at all costs. You've said absolutely nothing to me. And I know you haven't spoken with Julia. As if it didn't happen. As if in denial, you ploughed on arranging the funeral like a funeral planner. It's OK to be mad. It's OK to be upset. No one will think any less of you. Certainly not me.  She was certainly angry and upset about it all. Worst, she carried the guilt of it. 'Josh, I can't...' She started to say and then stopped. He looked at her eye on. Can I tell you something? Do you remember you were making that cheesecake your sister likes to make last week, and I went out and got you soft cheese? Do you know you actually had soft cheese? I watched you put the entire lump of soft cheese in the bin and put the empty tub back in the fridge. Retraced your steps to the fridge for the tub and then declared you forgot to buy the cheese. You did buy the cheese. You'd just thrown it in the bin. And once I realised what was happening, I covered it over in the bin so you wouldn't see it. Now, does that strike you as you? Come on, it's 2 in the morning. It's been a long day; let's get some sleep. Besides, you and I are yet to sleep in that bed. Tiredness was truly setting in. She acknowledged and dipped her head in her hand to massage it. You go; I'll sit here for a bit.  He left. The TV in the bedroom went on shortly after. Lemara got up, but it was to the verandah she went, where she sat with arms wrapped around her knees that buried her face, stifling tears. The chilly air wrapped her but none of that bothered her. She'd come out on this cruise in memory of her sister. Signed off her relationship without telling the other party in the relationship. Struck a match with Harry and started a fire. A fire that would now see her in the dumpster should it ever be found out. Not even her sister would be on board with this dumpster fire. He had near four years to propose. Four freaking years of a clean driving licence. Instead, he chose then when she'd gone and fucked off. She looked at the ring on her finger. A classic cushion-cut engagement ring with tapered baguette side stones. He didn't even need her help to get that right. Only said he noticed she'd always make a beeline for the cushion cut stones. She pursed her lips at that.    Her transgression was driving her mad. How does she continue in this engagement knowing what she did? But then, how can she tell him? Joshua did not deserve any of those situations.  Stuck between a rock and a hard, hard place, she tipped her head back. That starved her tears and frustration while she searched the stars because somebody up there was having a laugh at her expense. Was this how it was supposed to go? Lia, I know your up there in those stars somewhere, whisper something my way. A star shot across the sky but the balcony door opened, stealing her attention. Em, it's cold out; why don't you come in? I will. I just want to stay here a little bit. He paused, then came out, closed the glass door. Do you want some company?  Taking a seat on the chair next to her and looked in the direction of where she looked. What are we doing? Searching the stars? Searching. The. Stars. He'd said that in a sing-song. Searching the stars, for? Lia. She had paused, composed herself for that response. Joshua swung his right hand over and she placed hers in his. He gently squeezed it.  She's up there among the stars for sure.' He said. Moments slipped past into minutes, into the witching hours.  Em, it's a little cold out here. Let's go in. I'll stay out a little longer.  Looking from him to the starred sky. He'd stood up but paused. 'I tell you what.'  And he disappeared back inside the suite. There was what sounded like a one-sided conversation but she took no interest. But shortly after, the doorbell rang. And when she heard no movement from Josh, got up to get the door, but Joshua was making his way to it. She looked at him to say what's going on. He replied it was OK. He'll get it. So she let him. Instead of returning to the verandah, she continued to the bathroom. Offloaded some of the caffeine and champagne she had taken on earlier. And, too, the figure-skimming, slinky dress she wore all evening.  But now, silhouettes moving around the verandah caught interest. Robed again but layered over a sleep shirt, came out to see Joshua and their butler Gerard overflowing with duvets and pillows over the empty whirlpool tub. What's happening? The sight of the two of them busying themselves puzzled that question. Gerard's only response was to tell her good morning. Joshua's response however was to tell her he's bringing the bed outside. Hands went over a gobsmacked mouth as she reached the tub where he and Gerard had nearly finished layering the empty tub with duvets and pillows. I'm happy to stay out here with you. What I am not happy to do, is freeze my balls off. She let out a little chuckle. So if we are going to stay out, let's at least be warm and comfortable. How about that? Looking from the tub he and Gerard just finished to her, pleased with himself. And she had to agree. He'd walked Gerard back out of the suite and double-click the door shut. OK, you. Let's test out this bed and search out these stars. Music?  She nodded. Maxwell? Nodded again as he hit the play button for the dock he'd brought out, having since returned to the verandah and got in the tub. Patted his left shoulder for where he wanted her to rest her head. She remained glued to the spot she stood in but managed to produce a small smile on the overtones of Maxwell's  The Urban Theme . An album they both liked and listened to.  She didn't deserve... Oh, but those were Eleanor's exact words to her years ago when her son wasn't in earshot. And now Eleanor might be on the winning side of her words. Lying there next to him, head on his shoulder, felt right. When did it ever not? She might have moved out in a fit of disappointment but when did she fall out of love with him? She hadn't. Nothing about their relationship warranted what she did. Her stomach knotted and she sucked sharp on some air. Found something? Interrupting the susurration of the waves below. Not yet. You? Her reply.  No, but be sure to tell me when you do. Silence slipped between them again, the waves' susurration continued alongside Maxwell's ' Lonely is the Only Company ' playing. In truth, she stopped searching those blasted stars because her mind had trailed to growing up in the Caribbean. Those nights when she'd stayed out later than she was allowed, Lia would wait up to let her in. Lia always did. She never told on her but would give her her version of their mother's lecture. She'd do anything for one of those lectures now. And the tears rolled. Rolled unto Josh's shoulders. Em? And when she didn't answer, he tried turning to see her face. I wasn't there. You weren't wh... Baby, I know. I wasn't there, Josh. Becoming a blubbering mess. I wasn't there when she died.  I know you would have preferred that you were there. She was always there for me but when she needed me the most, I wasn't there. She was all alone when she died. What kind of sister does that make me? Baby, I know Lia and I know she'd never hold that against you. Josh, the only reason she was on that road in the first place was to come see me. If I'd not moved to the apartment, she'd never had to be driving on that road.  Em, you don't know that. But I do. It was because of me.' Blubbering away. 'And when she died, I wasn't even there.' Pile drove a finger and then her fist into his chest with every word. Her face followed, buried into the space of his chest she had pile driven. And when he held her, she tried pulling away, but he only held her closer. Squeezed her. Everything she had held back, the guilt, the frustration, the pain, the bottled tears for Lia, it all came out then. She sobbed, tears streaming down her face and into Josh's chest. It's soo hard not to be able to call her Josh. It's so hard not to be able to speak to her and it's killing me. And I don't want to do this anymore. It doesn't feel right. I know but I'm going to hold you; I'm never letting you go and we'll work through this together. She only cried more.  Baby, it's never easy losing someone you love. And I know you love your sister and miss her a lot, but just know she is here. And know that she looks down on you, smiling and happy for you. He kissed her forehead and left his lips there while she sobbed. Plus, it isn't what Lia would want for you.

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