Amy’s in her element, flirting and smiling at those who show her the most attention. She needs this. Her cheeks bloom pink with each compliment, her shoulders a little more upright.
It’s midnight before we flag down a taxi and head home. Our arms are full of goodies, and our heads are full of fun. Today marks the start of a whole new beginning for both of us.
Chapter twenty-two
Lance
The Ibizan sun beats down on my face as I lie on my lounger. Dance music fills the air, people laugh, bodies glisten, and everyone looks as if they’ve come ready to forget real life. Ibiza feels like it’s in an alternative dimension, one where no one has problems, no one has an ex-wife, and no one has a woman they can’t stop thinking about.
I wish I could be one of them.
Dog lives it up easily. I don’t.
We’ve been here for three days and nights, relaxing in the sun and partying under the moon. I’m relieved to have a two-bedroom apartment. Dog has brought a different girl back every night, each one louder than the last. This morning at 4 a.m., I gave up on sleep. I grabbed my towel and headed for the beach, choosing the sunrise over Dog’s sex soundtrack.
Sitting alone on the sand, I watched the sky warm from purple to gold. All I could think about was Katie. How she was so wrongbut so right for me. And how nothing—no beach, no women, no holiday—could distract me from the hole she left behind.
Dog plonks himself down beside me, shades on, beer in hand.
“Bro, if you get a girl tonight, do you mind going back to her place? I need some sleep,” he says.
I snort. “If I get a girl tonight, check my pulse. I’ll be dead.”
He laughs. “Shagging that old bird has made you boring, mate. You need a palate cleanser. There’s plenty here.”
“Leave Katie out of it,” I snap. “She’s nothing like these girls you’re trailing every night. Don’t lump her in with them.”
“Hell, mate… you’re saving yourself for a woman who’s not even here.”
I shoot him a look.
He lifts his hands. “Fine, fine. But bloody hell, you need to get laid before you self-combust.” He mutters something about tragedy, then wanders off.
The beach party is in full swing, drinks flowing. A group of guys are playing volleyball, and I join in. Anything to improve my mood. Hitting the ball releases my built-up tension, and relief seeps through my body. Thoughts of Katie fade for an hour.
The game’s rough—all the players are fit and competitive. They push, jump, and generally batter each other out of the way.
It’s a stag party, the final friend to get married. All are professional men, a combination of lawyers, accountants, and finance managers. Work hard, play harder is their motto. How do their wives feel with all their husbands in Ibiza for a boys’ weekend while they’re at home with the kids?
A relationship is strong if they can trust their partner to this extent, to be comfortable with them going off to the sun and sea for fun. It still stings that Ainsley betrayed me while I was serving my country. When my life was on the line every moment, day and night.
Afternoon turns to evening, and we head back to the apartment. Tonight, Dog has tickets for Mammoth Nightclub in Ibiza Town. It’s the biggest club on the island, and the tickets were hard to come by. The DJ playing is one of the best in the world, not that I’d know. According to Dog, we had to be there. We’re walking, he’s talking, but I’m zoned out.
“We’re just going to meet the girls there,” he says casually.
“Girls? What girls?”
“Amber and Sugar. I knew you weren’t listening, mate.”
“Amber and Sugar?” My eyes roll backwards. “Seriously?”
“Yes, bonehead.” His jaw ticks. “Amber and Sugar. They’re meeting us at the club tonight. You’ll have a good time. But keep your hands off Amber. She’s mine.”
Shaking my head, I say nothing. Great, the one that sounds like a hooker is for me. This holiday has proven that being Dog’s wingman is tedious. I have no interest in picking up women this way.
A huge woolly mammoth stands among the ocean of people in the club, so tall revelers dance beneath it. Icicles hang from the ceiling, giving the whole place an ice palace feel, in stark contrast to the tropical Ibizan climate. The tightly packed crowd bounces to the beat, and the DJ, high on his stage, is full of energy as he plays the tunes. Lights of white and blue fly across the crowds as smoke machines continually spray into the air.
Dog checks his phone constantly, waiting for news of the girls.