And now he’s here. In the airport, of all places.
Whyis he here? He’s just standing there, like this is normal. He looks smart and nervous. He’s wearing that nice blue shirt he wears for job interviews.
Shit. Is he here meeting a girl? He must be picking up a new girlfriend or something. The idea of that hits me squarely in the chest, the picture of him moving on without me. An image flashes across my brain of him kissing someone else and I catch a sob before it can get out. I couldn’t handle it if he were here for a girlfriend. I’m not ready.
Before I can react or say anything, a commotion breaks out a few feet further along the crowd. Cameras are flashing and a group of men are shouting for Joely and Brian. Oh my God, it’s photographers – paps!
‘JOELY, OVER HERE, BABE! BRIAN, LOOK THIS WAY! SMILE FOR US! NICE HOLIDAY, GUYS? ARE YOU OFFICIAL NOW? ARE YOU IN LOVE? LOOK THIS WAY, WILL YOU, GUYS? DO ONE TOGETHER, CAN YOU? ARE YOU ENGAGED? JOELY? BRIAN? WAS THIS A BABYMOON, EH? MAKE OR BREAK HOLIDAY? WHAT’S GOING ON WITH YOU TWO? SMILE, WILL YOU?’
The men are all shoving each other for space as the general public around us crane their necks to see what’s going on. What famous people have they missed? The whole arrivals procession slows to a halt.
What on earth are the paps doing here? Oh my God, it must’ve been Brian! He obviously called them, I think furiously. He’s such a bastard! I thought he seemed all right. Poor Joely, trying to have an anonymous holiday and really connect with him, and he’s tipped them off just to make a scene! How awful is that!
I can just about see Joely and Brian in the crowd up ahead trying to move their way forward with their cases. They both have their sunglasses on and are wearing harried, upset looks on their faces. Expressions like they’re used to this but can’t be doing with it. They don’t get too far, though, before Joely suddenly stops.
She throws her bag dramatically to the floor, in full view of the cameras. She turns to Brian, who looks surprised, as she screams, ‘That’s it! I’m so done with you, Brian. I won’t take any more of your cheating! We were deeply in love and committed but I realise now that you are a scoundrel and I am better than this.’ It’s a bit wooden but the photographers are eating it up, their flashes going off like mad, blinding the onlookers/audience.
I look back over at Will and he is staring at the commotion too, bewildered.
‘What are you talking about, Joe?’ Brian is shouting back. ‘What’s going on here, babe? Did you call them? I thought you wanted to do this for real? I thought you liked me?’
Joely starts shouting over him. ‘Shut up, you! I knew you couldn’t keep it in your pants for long. I can’t believe this, after you told me youLOVEDme and wanted toMARRYme. I was a fool to believe you, Brian. I saw the pictures, Brian! And I know you did it with that girl fromLove Island! How could you? We’re over forGOOD, Brian! Never call me again. I’m going to date PDIDDYand he says heHATESyou.’ As she shouts, Joely repeatedly glances over at the photographers to check they’re taking note. They most certainly are.
‘What girl fromLove Island?’ Brian looks genuinely perplexed. ‘What pictures? Are you really dumping me, babe? I promise I haven’t done anything! I thought we were getting serious? And how do you know P Diddy?’
Joely storms off and away from the group. She whips off her sunnies for one devastated, tear-streaked final look at the cameras – and they go crazy.
I note that she’s re-done her make-up on the plane.
We are witnessing the most public, overly planned and set-up dumping possible. Poor unsuspecting Brian.
Bloody Joely, she’ll never change.
I turn away from the shouting and back towards Will. For half a second I’d forgotten he was there.
Why is he here?
He gestures at me to join him at the barrier and slowly I comply, pulling my case behind me with dread. My wrist throbs and I try not to think of the stupid tattoo sitting there under my sleeve. It’s probably in the process of becoming infected. The hand will no doubt have to come off.
The creakings of my hangover are burrowing into my brain as I stop short in front of Will and I feel a tug of horror at how terrible I must look.
I’ve thought about this moment – the moment I’d get to see him again – so many times. Those bits of sleep I’ve managed to catch in the last couple of months have been full of that image. But even during the worst of the anxiety-filled nightmares, I’ve never imagined myself having to face him while coming out the other side of three solid days of drinking. Ugh.
We stand face to face, staring at each other silently for a moment.
He looks surprised to see me.
I clear my throat, waiting for him to speak. He should be the one to speak, shouldn’t he? He’s the one here in the airport. He’s the one who called me over. I open my mouth and then shut it again. I can’t find any words in my brain.
He laughs suddenly, but it’s humourless. An uncomfortable noise to fill the silent hole between us.
‘How are you, Lilah?’ he says, and his voice cracks a little.
I nod. ‘I’mOK,’ I say, my voice hoarse. ‘Bit hungover. It’s been a long few days. But I’m well enough.’
We fall silent again.
‘And you?’ I say, sounding a bit desperate.
