Chapter 9

Darting off after dinner to see a brass warthog turned out to be a terrible idea.

While most of the tour group headed to a seedy bar with Georgina for karaoke and overpriced drinks—Sarah’s advice was to avoid it at all costs—our little band of merry men and women went in search of a warthog.

The searching part wasn’t difficult, because, well, Google. Her phone in hand, Dani led the way through a maze of deserted cobbled streets. I wondered where the throngs had disappeared to, but I realised it was 10:30pm on a Wednesday. The tourists were likely asleep in their hotel rooms and the locals were probably still eating dinner. They ate late in Italy; the restaurant where we’d eaten was only just starting to fill up with locals when we left.

“There it is,” she said, pointing up ahead to a row of shuttered markets. The statue guarded the marketplace from its stone plinth, its weird little spikey penis the second ugliest thing about it.

“That is seriously ugly,” said Lou, saying what I was thinking. Its face was the ugliest part of the warthog—tiny beady close-together eyes, a long snout, and giant fangs protruding from its almost comical smile. I’d never seen a live one, and I was certain I could live the rest of my life quite happily without rectifying that.

Lou rubbed its snout and I did the same. As unappealing as the warthog was, I wanted to return to Florence. And yes, I knew it was a stupid superstition, but what if I never went back—and it was because I didn’t rub the warthog’s nose?

Jaelee rolled her eyes, then took out her phone and handed it to Lachie—damn those boys, I was learning their names. She asked him to take a photo of her and rubbed the statue, her smile disappearing as soon as he took it. He handed back the phone and kept hold of it a little longer than he needed to, teasing her with it. Her smile came back, only this time it was a flirty one.

It was my turn to roll my eyes and Lou caught me. She shrugged. The Love Bus indeed.

The other guys, Jason, Paul and Rob—see? actual names—did not care about ugly statues or superstitions, so we managed to wrap up the whole excursion in about six minutes.

“Okay, so now what?” asked Jaelee, peering at us expectantly. She looked weighed down carrying all those shopping bags. I would have offered to help carry them, but I didn’t want to.

Craig spoke up in a rare moment of leadership and I was a little proud of him, our baby bro. “So, we’ve got almost two hours ’til we need to meet the coach. Cat, you said that the bar is a no-go?”

“The one where everyone else went?” He nodded. “Yes, definitely. My sister, Sarah, used to run these tours. She said if it was the same bar—and it is—to stay away. Quite nasty, apparently.”

Jae breathed out heavily from her nose, her impatience obvious. Lachie, whom I was starting to like more as the night went on, reached for her shopping bags. She feigned fobbing him off, but he insisted and she finally “let” him take them. She perked right up after that.

Dani had her phone out again. “Well, if we cross Ponte Vecchio and walk a few blocks, there’s a wine bar that looks good.” A chorus of agreement, ranging from, “Sounds great,” to, “Yeah, why not?” rang in the cool night air. Dani, once again, led the way.

As we walked, I glanced around at our motley crew. The man-child from Oregon, the Kiwi four-pack, who were sporting buddies, and the four of us. How will we go in a wine bar, I wondered?

It turns out, rather brilliantly. Stupid Cat, where are two of the best wine regions in the world? Oregon and New Zealand.

Being only eighteen, Craig didn’t have vast experience drinking wine, but it turned out that his grandfather was a specialty wine merchant so Craig grew up having sips of this and that at the dinner table. And from the way Craig talked about him, I thought I would love his grandfather—wine or no wine.

And yes, the Kiwi boys had spent the night in a pub drinking beer and watching rugby, but they also knew quite a bit about wine. Paul, especially, had an impressive understanding of the differences between Old World and New World wines. I mentally slapped myself for being such a snob. Me! The woman who was happy with a five-pound bottle of whatever was on sale at Sainsbury’s.

The bartender had enough English to be helpful with the Italian menu and after some conferring, the menfolk selected a Chianti and a Barbera. The bartender nodded at the order, giving us a quick smile. We moved from the bar to two small tables and the guys took no time to push them together and find two extra chairs. We squished around the tables, Jaelee’s shopping tucked away in the nearest corner of the room.

The bar’s décor was rather modern, with stainless steel and blonde wood dominating, but it was also cosy. The bartender arrived with the glasses, two bottles and a bottle opener. The anticipation was palpable as he neatly cut the foil on the first bottle, expertly removed the cork, poured a splash into a glass, and waited for Paul to give him the nod.

Paul explained the difference between the wines, while the bartender repeated his ritual with the second bottle. “So, the Chianti’s going to be brighter, fruitier. You’ll see when the Barbera’s open that it has a darker, richer colour. It will have more tannins and will be more of a sipper than the Chianti.” When there was wine in the second glass, he held them both up to the light above us. “See? So, you should try both, but it’s likely you’ll prefer one over the other.” His patter came off as helpful rather than condescending.

We all tried both wines, and although I’m usually partial to a Chianti, I asked for a top-up of the Barbera. Paul happily obliged, and when we all had a glass of our chosen wine, he raised his. “A toast. Here’s to travelling halfway around the world with your best mates and making new friends.” That cemented it. I liked Paul. In fact, I liked all the Kiwi boys.

As I sipped my wine and listened to the several conversations going on around me, I chided myself again—this time for not being more open to meeting new people. Instead, I’d done exactly what I usually did. I’d found my tribe at the beginning of the tour and had stuck with them. Granted, they were a good tribe. I was confident I’d stay in touch with Lou—and maybe Dani and Jae, perhaps Craig. We were all connected on Facebook, so at least there was that.

But I’d forgotten how much fun it was to hang out with a large group of men and women. I thought about the last time I’d done that, and remembered it was when I’d been with Scott. That was so long ago.

My relationship with Scott hadn’t been all bad. We’d had lots of couple friends back then and I’d felt very grown up having dinner parties for ten, even when it meant borrowing folding chairs from Mum and Dad’s and all of us chipping in for a couple of casks of wine. It had been fun.

This was fun.

Well, bollocks. Had I forgotten how to have fun?

I dismissed the thought almost immediately. I was Cat Parsons, teacher extraordinaire and fuckbuddy supreme. I took mini-breaks with my girlfriends—well, with Mich. I went to the theatre—once a year with discounted tickets counts, right? And I was on a bloody bus tour of frigging Europe, out late on a Wednesday, drinking wine in a Florentine wine bar with my new best friends.

I was fun, damn it!

I was biting on the edge of my wine glass and realising, I stopped. Craig caught my eye from across the table and mouthed, “Are you okay?”

I assured him with a nod and a carefree wave of my free hand. Good grief, get out of your head, Parsons. Pay attention. Be fun.

Twenty-minutes before we were due to meet Tom and Georgina near Ponte Vecchio, we each dug out some euros. Paul counted them up, ensuring we had enough to cover the bill and a little extra for a tip. We gathered our things and Lachie picked up Jae’s shopping bags—really, it was a ridiculous amount of stuff. I could only wonder how she was going to fit it all into her case.

“Okay, so there’s actually a shortcut if we go this way—” Dani lifted her head in the direction she meant. “It’s around the corner, down the street, then across a little piazza.”

Again, there was a round of verbal agreement and we struck off with Dani in the lead, a straggling single-file line. We turned right and were halfway along the street, the piazza in sight ahead, when two police cars flew past us, sirens blaring.

In the narrow streets of Florence, after midnight when everything else was silent, it was quite alarming. Dani stopped, so we all stopped. Looking behind us, I saw something more disturbing. A third police car was setting up a barricade to close off the street.

The two cars ahead of us pulled into the square with screeching tires, and the piazza lit up with spotlights. There was a lot of shouting, which sounded like commands, and the two police officers from the car blocking the street ran up to us. They spoke in rapid Italian, but the gist was clear. Bunch together, and don’t move or speak. They left us, completely unprotected, to join their colleagues in the piazza.

We were trapped. In a police raid. In Florence. After midnight.

Georgina was going to kill us.

***

Georg-bloody-ina did not kill us. But she did leave us.

Apparently, she did not receive Dani’s text, which explained our dilemma and that we would be late to the coach, until after they’d left us in the middle of Florence.

We only found this out the next morning, however. Once the raid was over—the culprits cuffed and stuffed into the waiting police cars—and we were free to go, it was sixteen minutes past the 12:30am pick-up time. But we’d sent a very clear text asking them to wait for us and why, so we had every reason to expect the coach to be there waiting when we ran—yes, we all ran—to the meeting place.

It wasn’t.

“Well, fuck,” said Lou and I nearly keeled over from shock. All right, maybe it was from the running. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, what one might call a “runner”.

“Well, what do we do now?” whined Jae. “Did you send the text?” she asked Dani accusingly.

“Yes, I sent the text. I even told her who was with me.” She checked her phone. “It definitely sent.”

I decided to say it out loud. “Georg-bloody-ina!” There were some mumbled agreements.

Lou piped up with, “But she’s been so lovely.” Jae and I locked eyes and engaged in some synchronised eye rolling.

“Okay, it’s going to be fine. We just need to get a taxi.” Craig, the eighteen-year-old voice of reason, stepping up again. The nine of us looked around at the completely deserted streets. There wasn’t a car, a scooter, or even a bicycle in sight.

“There.” Paul took off at a sprint before the rest of us could react. He’d spotted a taxi turning onto our road, but it was going in the wrong direction. He was a fast runner, I had to give him that. The taxi slowed—Hallelujah!—and Paul caught up and leant down to talk to the driver through the window. Then he got in.

“Is he ditching us?” Jae asked. She always seemed to see the worst in people. I knew this about her because I tended to do the same thing and recognised the signs.

“Naaah,” said Rob. “He wouldn’t do that.” The taxi made a U-turn and pulled up next to us. Paul got out. “See?” Rob said to no one in particular.

“He’s calling his friend to come get the rest of us. It’ll be squishy in one of the cars, but better than nothing, right?” said Paul.

We all wholeheartedly agreed.

“Well, why don’t you girls take this one. Maybe Craig, you go with ’em—you sit up front.”

It sounded like a plan to me. I didn’t care if I had to sit on someone’s lap. I’m small; it wouldn’t be the first time. Dani seemed unsure, but Jason reassured her, and Craig got in the front seat while the four of us figured out how to share three seatbelts in the back. I hoped we wouldn’t get pulled over—although if we did and I recognised any of the coppers from the raid, I’d give them a piece of my mind.

Twenty-five minutes and eighty euros later, two taxis pulled up at the gate of the campsite. It was nearly one, but we didn’t leave the next morning—sorry, that morning—until nine.

We walked up the hill and bid each other whispered “goodnight”s before the girls and I disappeared into our cabin.

As I lay in my bed, the adrenalin still coursing through my veins, I couldn’t shake the thought of that stupid ugly warthog.

***

“Hey.” Jaelee popped her head into our room as I was zipping up my case. We still had half-an-hour before we were due to leave, but I wanted to find Georgina and ask her why the bloody hell she’d left us behind in the middle of the night. I was almost looking forward to the conversation.

“Hey,” I called back over my shoulder. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering what you’re planning on wearing for your date with Jean-Luc tonight.”

“Actually, it’s this afternoon. I’m meeting him at five, right after the walking tour.”

“Oh, so, something day-to-night then?”

“I guess. I mean, I was going to wear this.” I looked down at my jersey wrap-around dress in a black-and-pink floral pattern, which I was wearing with a pair of black flats.

“Oh.”

Uh oh. “But this is all right, isn’t it?” It was last season, but it was pretty and I thought I looked good in it. And really, there was no better option in my luggage. I mentally scanned my wardrobe at home where several day-to-night date dresses were hanging. Bollocks.

“It’s nice.” Nice? “But wait here.”

She disappeared, and a knot of nerves started twisting in my stomach. How was I supposed to know when I packed that I’d run into my one-time best friend who had grown into a super-hot guy who set my loins on fire? I’d packed for warmish weather and walking around a lot. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks.

“Here.” Jae came back into the room holding one of her paper shopping bags from the day before. “We’re about the same size and I think this would look gorgeous on you.” She put the bag on my bed and pulled out a silk shift dress in that brilliant blue you see in photos of Santorini.

“Oh, Jae. It’s beautiful, but I can’t borrow it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can. Put it on.” I’d been topless on a beach with Jae two days before, so there was no need to be modest. I unwrapped my dress, then slid hers on over my head. It settled onto my body and she reached around me to grab the ends of the waist tie, then tied a bow in the front. She smoothed the dress over my hips. “You look amazing. That’s a great colour for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. And it’ll look awesome with your motorcycle jacket.”

Lou walked into the room wrapped in a towel. “Oh, wow. Nice dress.”

“You think? I wish there was a full-length mirror in here.”

“You’re going to have to take our word for it,” said Jae, “because you’re wearing it. Oh, hang on.”

She disappeared again. I shrugged at Lou.

“You really do look good. Jaelee’s?” she asked.

“Yep. She bought it yesterday.”

Jae came back into the room with a silver leather handbag. “Here. Better than your messenger bag.” She was right, but it was tiny compared to the bag I’d been carrying every day. “And you should wear your silver ballerina flats.” Jae seemed to have an excellent working knowledge of the contents of my case—thank goodness.

“Oh, yes, excellent,” I said, unzipping my case. I pulled out the silver flats, then slipped off my black ones and packed them. “Oh!” I remembered I’d packed a silver cuff bracelet and I produced it from my case with a flourish.

“Yep. Great.” Jaelee nodded approvingly.

“You look beautiful, Cat,” said Mama Lou. Both women seemed to understand what this date meant to me—perhaps even more than I did—and I was overcome with a surge of affection for my new friends.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Dani poked her head in. “Oh, you look nice,” she said.

I grinned. “Thanks, girls.” I blew out a long breath. “Now I just have to get through the next eight and a half hours without freaking out!”

“And without spilling anything on my dress.”

My mouth formed an O and Dani and Lou produced synchronised cries of “Jaelee!” She backpedalled immediately with, “Kidding. Kidding! Sorry!” Even so, I would try very hard not to spill anything on the dress. I’m not usually a klutz—that’s more my sister’s department—but I’d be extra careful.

For the drive to Rome, I’d asked Jaelee to sit with me under the guise of getting her advice about Jean-Luc, but it was really to see what was up with her and Dani. She’d unwittingly agreed, and Lou said she was happy to share the ride with Dani, because she was Lou and possibly the nicest person I’d ever met.

“So,” I said as we got on the road, “are things all right between you and Dani?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, yesterday you both seemed a bit snippy.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I’m not used to such close quarters. I live alone and I guess the whole ‘summer camp, twenty-four-seven’ thing is getting to me. That’s why I went off by myself yesterday. I needed a breather.”

“And you booked a group tour because …?”

“Same as you. Running away.” I laughed at us both. “Seriously, though, it was last minute and easier than planning the whole thing by myself. Oh, was I ever kicking myself that first day when I thought I’d booked a camping trip. Thank you for setting me straight, by the way. I nearly asked to get off the bus. But it’s been good. Mostly. Yesterday was just, you know …” I did, yes.

She sighed. “It’s also … I’ve been Facebook stalking my ex. His fucking honeymoon.”

“Oh, Jae.”

She shook her head. “It’s like the most masochistic thing ever. Stupid. Just, like … totally stupid.”

“Yes, you should probably stop doing that.”

She nodded. “Yep.”

“Listen, if you feel the urge, come find me, all right? I’ll talk you out of it, or distract you with pastries, or slap you across the face—whatever is needed, I’m your woman.”

She threw me a half-smile. “Okay, sure.” After a few seconds she added, “Thanks.”

“Of course! You’d do the same for me. Oh, I meant to show you and Dani.” I dug out my phone and showed her the photo my mum had sent.

She burst out laughing, and I wasn’t sure how to take it. “Look at you, like a mini Jen Aniston.” Perhaps that was a compliment, Jaelee style. I mean, Jennifer Aniston was still one of the most gorgeous women on the planet.

“And no wonder you didn’t recognise Jean-Luc in the street. Look at him. What a dork.” Well, that was definitely an insult. I snatched the phone from her and threw her a teacher look.

“Sorry. Not like a total dork, but you know, like a puppy who hasn’t grown into his feet yet.” I gave her a sideways glance. “I’ve put my foot in my mouth,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right. I still love you.”

“You two look really good together, you know.”

“You don’t have to say that. We were awkward teenagers.”

“No, I mean now.”

My head swivelled so fast I nearly got motion sickness. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s so tall and hunky and you’re like this petite little cutie. You should have seen the way he was looking at you after you nearly fainted. It was adorable.” There was that word again.

And neither of these descriptions played into my “seduce the hell out of the hot guy” fantasy, or the “old friends reuniting” scenario. They meant couple stuff—that giant black void in the middle of my two comfort zones—the one manifesting itself as an ever-increasing knot in my stomach.

Why was I doing this to myself? Life was perfectly fine when Jean-Luc was a distant memory locked safely away in a box. I was happy in my life—ecstatic even. I had a great life. Great!

But Jae had said all that stuff about me and Jean-Luc as though it was a universal truth or something, like it was undeniable. So, maybe Jean-Luc and I were cute together. Bollocks, merde, and scheisse.

***

“Hey,” Jae said quietly. I was staring at the back of the seat in front of me, revisiting my nineteenth-century fantasy about the Parisian apartment I shared with Jean-Luc.

“Hmmm?” I replied, somewhat reluctant to leave my imaginary bed.

“So, I haven’t even told Dani this. Actually, I don’t think I will, but I wasn’t exactly truthful about Marc.”

“Marc?” I grasped for the name in my memory. “Oh! Marc,” I said a little too loudly. She shushed me and I looked around us. No one had heard me, or they had and didn’t care. “Sorry, so what do you mean? Oh! You did sleep with him?” I whispered. She nodded and a sly smile crept over her face. “Well? What happened?”

“It was like I said, we talked—a lot. For hours. It was amazing and, you know, his English wasn’t great, but we managed. It was good enough and if we got stuck, I tried Spanish, which he has a little of, and we made it work. He’s just coming out of a relationship too, so we talked a lot about that. And, there wasn’t even any big moment where I had to decide. It just felt right—like we’d shared something …”

“And?”

“And, it was nice. Not earth-shattering, but kind of sweet. Then we fell asleep all wrapped up in each other, which I can never do. That part surprised me.”

“And how did you leave things? In the morning?”

“He walked me to the château—well, close but not the whole way. People were up by then. And he kissed me goodbye and that’s it.”

“You’re not going to stay in touch?”

“No,” she replied simply. “It wasn’t like that. It was just, you know, that night. We both understood.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s so lovely. And you’ve kept it to yourself.”

“You can say it, Cat. I lied.”

“Well, yes, that.”

“I just … I’m usually a very private person, and I wanted to keep it just for me, you know?”

“So, why tell me, and why now?”

“Because, I think you’re putting a lot of pressure on meeting up with Jean-Luc today—and part of that’s probably my fault.”

“Ya think?” I teased.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should let it be what it’s going to be.” She shrugged. “It could be nothing. It could be everything. But most likely, it will be something in between. I just don’t want you to set yourself up to be disappointed.”

I chewed on the thought. Jae was right. I was coming at the date from completely the wrong perspective. I was putting too much pressure on myself—and on Jean-Luc. It would be what it would be. I just needed to chill the hell out.

Easier said than done.

***

The Colosseum was far more impressive in real life than I could ever have imagined. Yes, it’s a relic, yes, half of it is missing, but it was easy to visualise being in the crowd while gladiators fought it out for their lives. I was certain my impression was as much to do with our guide, Gabriella—who was fantastic—as it was to do with the Colosseum itself.

She was a tiny human. I say this knowing that by most people’s standards, I am a tiny human. Yet I towered over Gabriella, who was four-foot-eleven at most and couldn’t have weighed more than seven stone. And although she must have been in her seventies, she had a huge presence and was able to project her voice so well, I wondered if she’d ever been a stage actress.

She finished her spiel and gave us some time to explore and take photos. I obliged Jaelee’s request for a photo of her—solo—then asked Craig to take one of the four of us girls. “And let’s do a selfie,” he said, leaning in and sticking out his enormously long arm to capture the five of us together. When I got my phone back and saw the photo, I immediately posted it to Facebook with the caption, “tour group besties”, tagging them all.

I loved these people and we were nearly halfway through the tour. I knew I would miss them when I got back to London, back to real life. Yes, it would be nice to have my own space and not cart my toiletries around in a bag and have access to the perfect outfit from my own wardrobe, but there was something kind of lovely about discovering new places and sharing experiences with people who’d become so special to me.

It was one of the things Sarah had loved most about touring—watching the friendships take shape between the travellers. She’d even made some friends herself, people she was still in touch with. I was starting to understand what she meant by how intense those relationships could be, and how they form in such a short time. When you’re with people twenty-four-seven, they become like family. I looked at the photo on my phone. My bus besties.

We left the Colosseum and trailed behind Gabriella as she led the way to the Roman Forum, across a wide and very busy street. She spoke rapid-fire Italian to the man at the gates, handed over a piece of paper, and counted us in as she shooed us past her. “Sbrigati,” she said repeatedly—hurry. She was little, but she was mighty. We hurried.

The Roman Forum was just as impressive as our previous stop. So much of it was intact, and even when only a skeleton of a structure remained, or a partial one, it was easy enough to see what it had been. On the last part of the tour, we walked along a cobbled street rutted by the wheels of chariots. Chariots! Gabriella explained that the width between them became the standard gauge for train tracks. I wasn’t sure how true it was, but it was a fun factoid.

As we followed Gabriella, stopping at various places of interest, I let my mind wander to Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. It was the shortest Shakespearean play, but by no means the simplest, thematically speaking. I’d studied it at uni and had taught it several times, and I’d grown to love it. The political manoeuvrings were so human. I could see it in my mind’s eye, playing out on the historical landscape around me. I couldn’t believe I was right there.

Oh, I was falling in love with Roma.

At the end of the tour, Gabriella led us out the exit to where Georgina and Tom were waiting for us with the coach. When she wrapped up her tour and bade us, “Arrivederci,” I had an overwhelming urge to hug her. I didn’t though. She didn’t seem the hugging type with her pantyhose, red lipstick and tight bun. She shooed us onto the coach and she and Georgina exchanged a few words and an envelope.

Colosseum

Roman Forum

On the coach, I realised I still hadn’t talked to Georgina about ditching us in Florence. She’d been MIA that morning, only stepping onto the coach a minute before nine, and there hadn’t been time when we got to Rome. I leant into the aisle and whispered to Dani, who was two seats up. “Hey, Dan?”

She turned around. “Yeah?”

“Did Georgina say anything to you about last night?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. She said she didn’t get the text until they were nearly back at the campsite.”

“But you texted her at, what, twelve-fifteen?”

“I know.” She shrugged.

“Well, that’s total bollocks. How—”

I stopped talking and looked down the aisle past Dani, who turned around to see what I was looking at. Georgina had stepped onto the coach. Dani spun back to me. “Talk later,” she said.

I nodded and sat back in my seat. “She’s lying,” I said quietly to Jae.

“Dani? Oh, you mean Georgina?”

“Mm-hmm. She said she didn’t get Dani’s text ’til it was too late.”

“Yeah, Dani told me that this morning.”

“Seriously, though? That’s bollocks!” I hissed.

“Hey,” she held her hands up. “I’m on your side. I was stranded too, you know.”

“Sorry.”

“So, how about this? Instead of grinding your teeth over Georgina—seriously, you need to stop that—” I hadn’t realised I was and stopped. “Think about Jean-Luc. T-minus thirty minutes.” She waggled her eyebrows and me and I quickly forgot all about Georg-bloody-ina, my stomach playing host to a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

While Tom drove the coach through peak-hour traffic, I pulled out a lipstick and a mirror from Jae’s silver handbag and slicked Mango Madness across my lips. As I rubbed them together, Jae told me I looked great. “Thanks.” I took a deep breath and had to stop myself from biting my lip and ruining the lipstick.

I watched the streets of Rome out the window, suddenly remembering that Mum still hadn’t sent the letter. I pulled out my phone and checked my email. Nothing. That’s a long round of golf, Mum.

Tom stopped the coach next to the Tiber across from Castel Sant’Angelo. “Okay, everyone,” said Georgina. “You’ve got free time to explore, and we’re meeting for dinner at seven-thirty at Ristoranti Prati. If you don’t have the address yet, see me before you head off. And if you’re not coming to the group dinner, then this is the pick-up point for 10:00pm.” I dropped a pin on my Google map. “That’s ten sharp. We don’t want a repeat of last night.”

Jae and I turned to each other and locked eyes. “Oh, she’s a …” Jae shook her head, leaving the thought unfinished. My mind filled in the end of it with “total cow”.

“Told you,” I replied smugly. Jaelee replied with an actual growl.

I stood and smoothed Jae’s dress down my thighs and draped my jacket over my arm, then slung the handbag strap over my shoulder. Jaelee joined me in the aisle, shuffling along behind me, and when we got off the coach, Dani and Lou were waiting for us.

Lou wrapped me up in a big hug. “Have a great time!”

“I will.”

Dani gave me a much less effusive back-patting hug. “Say hi from us.” Uh, sure, Dani. Jae hugged me next, which surprised me a little. She wasn’t usually the huggy-kissy type.

“Just remember, no expectations,” she whispered.

“Right.” I stood back and looked at my three friends, noting the pride on their faces. It was like they were seeing me off to the prom or something. “See you all later!” I said cheerily.

Then I turned and walked away—in completely the wrong direction.