“We should have broken up in Sydney.”
I lift my eyes to his. “What? No, don’t say that.”
“We should have. We want totally different things.”
“Then why did you come?”
“Jesus! I came to see you. I can’t win! For fuck’s sake, I came!”
“Yes, yes, you did, even though you screwed someone else the moment I left and now you supposedly love her.”
“I hate this.” He’s on the verge of tears and all I can think is, good.
“We shouldn’t have come here. I can’t believe you talked me into this frigging trip after everything that happened,” I say, almost spitting the words.
“We’ve had some good times.” What?
“You’ve got to be kidding. It’s been the week from hell, Scott. I never know from one day to the next who I’m going to wake up next to—whether you’re going to love me that day or not. And apparently you have been miserable the whole frigging time.”
“Catey …”
“What?” I snap.
“Can I come sit by you?” I concentrate on the pattern of the tiled floor, the fight ebbing out of me.
“Fine.”
“Catey, I am so sorry. I know I hurt you. I don’t know what to do. I am so confused. I do love you.”
“No—”
“I do! I’m … I’m really messed up.”
“Wonderful.” The sarcasm feels good on my tongue.
“No, it’s horrible. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought you’d have your year away and I’d come to visit, then you’d come home, and we’d be together. And then when I met Helen …”
“Do not say her name to me.”
“I’m sorry. I thought …”
“No! Don’t talk about her.” I rise from the bed and take my suitcase out of the tall wooden wardrobe, plonk it on the bed and start flinging my clothes in, not caring that I’m mixing dirty and clean clothes together. I even don’t bother folding them.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“Packing,” I answer as though it’s not completely obvious.
“You don’t have to do that. We still have a week left. What about Italy?”
“You can’t possibly think I can stay.”
“Why not? Everything’s paid for.”
“Scott, you sent a love letter to another woman.” I let the statement hang in the air, pinning him with a scrutinising stare. There’s a moment of stillness before he speaks.
“Yes.” It’s almost a whisper.
“But you want to keep going on our trip?” He can’t possibly mean it.
“I know it sounds crazy—”
“Um, yes. It does.”
“But I do love you. And I know how important this trip is to you. I don’t want you to miss out.”
“Because if I do, it will be your fault.” I realise the truth of it as the words come out of my mouth. “That’s why we’re here. That’s why we’re in frigging Paris.”
“No, that’s—”
I cut him off, unwilling to hear another word. “You need to come with me to the train station. I have to change my ticket and it’s on your credit card.” I go into the bathroom to retrieve my toiletries.
“Catey Cat, please—”
“Don’t,” I shout from the bathroom. I return to the room, the fury rising. “Don’t call me that—ever again.”
“Please don’t leave me.”
“I can’t stay, Scott. How do you not get that?” My tone rises with incredulity. I stuff the toiletries bag into my case.
“Please!”
I stop and turn and watch him with a detached fascination. I’m stunned by his tears and I can’t decide if he’s heartbroken or just feeling sorry for himself.
I don’t care.
“You know what? You don’t get to be upset,” I reply, oddly calm. “I’m not interested in how awful you feel.”
His face hardens in an instant and I have my answer—crocodile tears. “Fine.” He shoves his feet into his shoes.
“Yes, exactly—fine.” I zip up the suitcase and scan the room with my eyes. If I forget anything, I’ll never see it again. Because I’ll never see him again.
“Let’s go, then,” he mumbles as he opens the door.
I lift the suitcase from the bed and follow him, now numb.
Chapter 2
“Well, that’s not a cabin,” said Jaelee.
The four of us stood facing a row of wooden structures at the Paris campsite. Jaelee dropped her case to the ground with a thud, and I waited for a foot stamp that didn’t come. I was still deciding about her. Danielle’s face scrunched up like she smelled something bad. I was still deciding about her too.
Bus bestie Lou shrugged her shoulders and forged ahead, boldly stepping inside the cabin assigned to us. She promptly came back out again.
“I don’t think we’re going to fit,” she said, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. Danielle’s grimace intensified and Jaelee stayed rooted to the spot, scowling.
I leant in and surveyed the entire cabin in approximately half a second.
Jaelee was right—these were decidedly not cabins. I’d seen cabins before. I’d even slept in a few—mountain cabins, lakeside cabins. Cabins were cosy and had fireplaces and handmade quilts to snuggle up with. Sometimes, they had dead animal heads hanging on the walls (as opposed to live ones). Cabins had room for people to gather in, to sit on overstuffed furniture and drink mulled wine and hot chocolate, or even do tequila shots.
What we were looking at was the opposite of a cabin. It was essentially a gardening shed with bunks—bunks with plastic-covered mattresses. In case we wet the bed? I wondered.
I straightened up and turned to Lou. “Where are we supposed to put our cases?”
“Pretty sure we leave them outside when we go to bed.” We grinned at each other. My affection for her was growing with each minute, our wromance well underway. She pulled Danielle into a side hug, cajoling her with, “Hey, neighbour—” an eye roll in response “—it’s not that bad. And it’s only for two nights.”
“This isn’t even Paris,” Jaelee scoffed, holding up her phone for the rest of us to see. “We’re miles out of Paris.” Jaelee—possibly Danielle too—was most definitely a tourist. I kicked into teacher mode, easy for me since I’d been in the classroom the day before.
“Right, you two, that’s your cabin. Take your cases inside, freshen up, change clothes if you like, and meet us out here in ten.” Their eyes widened, then they did as they were told. Yes, there were grumblings I could only just make out, but I’d heard far worse from the mouths of teenagers.
Lou murmured, “Nice work,” as we entered our cabin, swung our cases onto our respective beds and sat down. Our knees didn’t quite touch.
“So, we’re definitely going to be friends with them, right?” she asked quietly. I pursed my lips, trying not to laugh. “I mean, I’m just checking, ’cause I don’t think they’re gonna be easy.”