He’s had no word from Amber since leaving her at the beach bar hours ago. Selfishly, I hope they don’t appear.
“They’re here,” he shouts over the music, pulling my sleeve. We head toward the mammoth in the center of the dance floor.
A girl with flowing red curls throws herself into his arms. Dark eyes, bright red lips, she stands a full head taller than him. Her glittery gold dress barely covers her behind. They swallow eachother’s tongues. Behind them, a shy blonde peeks out, watching everything with big, soft eyes. This must be Sugar.
When she notices me looking, she gives a small smile. Not flirty, just kind.
Dog abandons us, wrapping his arms around Amber’s thighs and carrying her away.
I lean toward Sugar. “I’m Lance. You must be Sugar.”
She laughs, her blonde hair swaying side to side. “Bloody Amber thought it’d be a good code name. My name’s Sally.”
For the first time all week, something inside me loosens. She’s sweet. Honest.
“You want a drink?” I ask.
She nods, probably relieved to get away from the mammoth, never mind Dog’s mating display.
We fight our way to the bar and sit side by side, yelling brief details of our lives while laughing at nothing because the music is too loud to talk properly. She smiles; I try to smile back, but it doesn’t sit right. I don’t want her getting the wrong idea.
We’re three drinks in when she looks at me and tilts her head. “You’re… sad,” she says, reading me too well. “Are you here to forget someone?”
The truth punches straight through my chest. Am I really that transparent? The admission is right there on my tongue. I’ve nothing to hide.
“Yes,” I say simply. “But it’s not working.”
She squeezes my arm, gentle and friendly. “Me too.”
And that’s it. That’s our bond. Not flirting. Not wanting anything. Just two broken people holding the edges of their wounds together. Two people who found each other on a random holiday, dragged along by their friends.
“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”
She nods gratefully.
We wander along the promenade, talking properly now. She tells me about her ex—caught him in their bed with someone else. I tell her… the surface-level truth. My divorce. My work. Most importantly, my daughter. Leaving out the woman I can’t breathe without.
We sit at a beach bar with cocktails, listening to the waves. It's the calmest I’ve felt since leaving Scotland. No expectations. No misplaced hope. Just two people talking about their lives.
“Your turn,” she says softly. “What’s her name?”
“Who?”
“The one that got away.” Her eyes soften. “Not your ex-wife, the girl you’re pining for.”
I close my eyes. Hell, I’m an open book.
“Katie.”
She nods like she understands everything. “You still love her.”
“Yeah,” I admit. “More than I should.”
Her lips curl upwards. “Then don’t force yourself to be here for any reason except healing. Friends?”
I exhale. “Friends.”
We clink glasses.