Page 1 of The Layover
Chapter One
Gemma
Picture it: the perfect life. The one you justknowyou’re supposed to be living.
It starts with the perfect man: handsome, with a great smile – one that wins everybody over, always, and makes you melt a bit when you see it. His great hair and sense of humour and the fact he pitches in with the cooking. It’s a low bar, but God, does he surpass it bymiles.
Then the perfect home: an apartment you managed to snag for a steal when the interest rates were miraculously low enough to actually get a mortgage, which you’ve tastefully decorated after scouring Pinterest for months for inspiration to make sure you bought the perfect pieces to suit your style. The one that, when you post pictures on Instagram or host your friends for dinner, youknoweverybody is gawking at the exposed beams and natural lighting and the parquet flooring you unearthed beneath a ratty old carpet.
And the perfect job: the promotion you’ve been grafting for, the chunky pay rise and swanky title, a reward for all the years you’ve spent working yourself to the bone. The sleep deprivation to meet ‘urgent’ deadlines, the hair loss from stress, the eye-twitch you’ve developed in response to a new message popping up on Teams – it’s all worth it now.
And now, the icing on the cake: the perfect wedding.
A destination wedding, no less, atthemost idyllic beach-side resort on the outskirts of Barcelona, all sprawling villa and white-sand beaches. The perfect dress, the perfect venue, the perfect cake …
It is going to be the perfect day. Sometimes, even I can’t believe it’s real; that anybody could achieve all this outside of a Hallmark movie.
The perfect beginning to the rest of a perfect life.
And God, do I hate the bitch who stole it from me.
My ‘best friend’. Thebride.
Standing in the airport, waiting for my flight to said destination wedding, my phone is burning a hole in my pocket. Or, more specifically, one particular video from the hen do is.
It’s enough to destroy it all, I know.
I should have deleted it. As her best friend and maid of honour, Idefinitelyshould have deleted it.
Should have, but didn’t.
And I can’t help but think – in a very Carrie Bradshaw-sounding inner monologue – what a shame it would be, if that video accidentally got leaked right in the middle of such a perfect, perfect wedding.
Chapter Two
Leon
It’s not a sign, that I’m late to the airport.
It’s also not a sign that: I had to double back because I forgot my passport, then got a flat tyre,thenwas somehow double-charged for my Uber here,andspilled my cup of coffee all over my jeans. It was touch and go for a while whether the flight would even go ahead, the torrential downpour and bad winds having already delayed other flights this afternoon.
The truth, of course, is that I’mlookingfor a sign.
This wedding is a bad idea.
Which isn’t a new thought, by any stretch. And I know I’m not the only one who thinks it. But what are you supposed to do when your sister claims she’s met the love of her life? When she’s absolutelygiddywith it, doesn’t even stop to consider that the engagement and wedding and moving in together all seems a bit rushed, because she’s so completely happy?
You can’t just look her in the eye and tell her she’s wrong.
I was almost praying the flightwouldbe cancelled. I agreed to do a speech in Dad’s place, and that empty notebook I’ve been carrying around with me for months waiting for inspiration to strike is haunting me. At least if the flighthadbeen cancelled, I wouldn’t have to go to the wedding at all, and wouldn’t have to stand up there and lie through my teeth about how happy I am – how happy weallare – for Kayleigh.
When I think of this wedding, instead of conjuring up images of my sister glowing with happiness, all I can think of is the strain around the edges of Mum’s smile, how Dad blinked several times before quietly saying, ‘Of course,’ when Kayleigh said she didn’t think he was well enough to walk her down the aisle …
That never would’ve been the case before Marcus.
The beginnings of a speech swirl around in my head. I did enough googling to get an idea of how it’s supposed to start.
The first time we met Marcus, I think, and my brain skids to a halt.
