Page 39 of Embracing Us

Chapter seventeen

Linda

As we weave around the blocks of high-rise apartments on the Spanish coastline, the Rock of Gibraltar comes into view. Cars are tailed back along the road, waiting to enter the British overseas territory at the checkpoint. I sigh under my breath, my excitement to be at the hotel already brimming over. The delay is completely unwelcome.

“What’s wrong, Beautiful?” Max says, reaching over and taking my hand in his. Our three passengers in the back of the car fell asleep within ten minutes of leaving El Faro. The one-and-a-half-hour journey has been blissfully silent.

“Look at that queue,” I mutter petulantly, and he laughs. “We will be stuck here for ages.”

“There will be a plane taking off or landing. That’s why there will be a delay. Once the runway is clear, we show them our passports and drive straight in.” He squeezes my fingers in comfort.

“What do you mean there will be a plane?” I ask, perplexed.

“The runway crosses the main road in. Gibraltar is a tiny place; they were short of options when the airport was constructed.” My jaw drops as we sit in our car watching a blue and white plane take off over the crystal blue ocean. Once it has reduced in size to a black speck within the clouds, the car in front of us begins to move. One by one, we approach the checkpoint. Max pulls all our passports from the glovebox of the car; he has them open, ready for the border control officer. A man dressed in a dark uniform approaches. Max lowers his window then passes the documents to him. He checks each one before waving us on. We drive across the expanse of land the plane used moments ago towards our wedding.

What only can be described as a mountain of rock stands in front of us, the town sprawling across the lower areas. A red London-style bus passes by, causing me to double-take. The traffic is heavy, and we crawl the short journey to our hotel. Once Max switches off the car when it is safely reversed into a parking space, I breathe a sigh of relief. We are here.

“The next time we sit in this car, Beautiful, you will be Mrs Gordon,” he says, leaning over and kissing my cheek.

“Get a room,” Crystal groans from the back seat. I chuckle at the unexpected comment.

“You were sleeping,” Max snaps back. She yawns then stretches her arms above her head, moving them sideways and hitting Susan on the forehead in the process. She stirs, snorts, but doesn’t wake up. Jackson is completely oblivious to the whole debacle. Max focuses on me, lifts my fingers to his lips and smiles sexily. “Shall we go and check in?”

“You’re in separate rooms tonight,” Crystal interjects. “Tomorrow you can get back at it like rabbits, but today…” She pauses, yawning again. “Bumping uglies is off limits.” Max rolls his eyes in annoyance. Crystal insisted on booking us separate rooms for the night before the wedding. It’s tradition, seemingly. I had pointed out that there is nothing traditional about Max and I’s relationship. My arguments were ignored. When I looked to Max for support, he shrugged his shoulders and said he wasn’t getting between a bride and her wedding staff. So, now I’m spending the night alone in my bed; it’s not something I’m looking forward to.

The Rock Hotelsits high in the town with views over houses, the harbour and the ocean below. With there being only five of us including Jackson, it was important for us to be married somewhere intimate and memorable. Here, we can say our vows on an outside terrace overlooking the stunning landscape. The idea had been mind-blowing, so it had to be this way.

“Let’s check-in, then go and explore?” Max suggests, I nod enthusiastically in response. “Aunt Susan, we are here,” he says over his shoulder. “Crystal, give her a prod, please.” Crystal pokes Susan’s arm viciously with her finger.

“What? Stop that!” Susan yells, flailing her arms around in fury. “Don’t fucking poke me.”

“We are here,” Max barks and she blinks her eyes open. Jackson wakes. He lies in his car seat, smiling up at the chaos surrounding him. His eyes are the double of his father’s. The wisps of hair starting to coat his scalp seem to emulate him too. I look at my little boy, the child I never knew I needed, and the only feeling that courses through me is joy – pure intense happiness for the situation I have found myself in.

I push open my door and step out into the hot summer sunshine. Moving to the trunk of the car, I quickly pop my wide sunhat on my head to protect myself from the burning rays. Max lifts out the pram, then retrieves Jackson from the rear seat. He directly connects the car seat to the unit, not lifting his son from his comfortable position. I smile to myself. He’s learnt his lesson after the supermarket incident.

My gaze moves to the tall white building, the hotel name spelt out in clear blue letters across the wall. “Can you push Jackson?” Max asks. “I’ll bring the bags.” He double-checks the brake is in place before removing his hand from the handle of the pram then lifts the cases from the trunk.

“Sure,” I reply with a smile, moving to take responsibility for our son.

Aunt Susan and Crystal clamber out of the car, slamming the doors closed in the process. They both groan loudly then stretch dramatically in the middle of the car park. Crystal squats, placing her hands on her thighs. “My old bones don’t half enjoy ceasing up on me. Two hours in a car and it’s like my limbs are made of concrete. You all right Suzie?”

“I’m fine,” she mutters. “My physicality is in perfect order. It’s my brain that ain’t working right.”

“No change there then,” Crystal responds, chortling at her own joke.

“Old bitch,” Susan says, but the amusement on her lips is obvious. The relationship these women have is incredible. They really are the best of friends. As I watch them support one another, and now with Susan’s new health challenges, I can’t help but wish I had a friend like they do. It is an asset that has always alluded me. And even as my life improves, this is a reality that doesn’t seem to change. My best friend also shares my bed; he is everything I rely on.

After gathering together all of our belongings and passengers, we walk towards the entrance of the hotel together. From the outside, the vibe is slightly dated, but as we enter through the sliding front doors I am transported into pure luxury. A woman wearing a crisp white shirt with perfectly styled blonde hair sits behind a cream marble counter. In her mid-forties, she smiles broadly with bright red lips as we approach her. She stands, reaching forward across the counter to shake Max’s hand. He places our bags on the floor, taking it in his.

“Good afternoon,” she says, her tone professional. “Welcome to The Rock Hotel. Please, can I take your name, sir?”

“Gordon,” Max replies. “My fiancée and I are being married here tomorrow.” She types with an impeccably poised finger on a highly shined silver keyboard, screwing her shocking-blue eyes at the screen as she reads.

“Yes,” she says, glancing at him. “Three rooms for this evening, then the honeymoon suite and one room for tomorrow night.”

“That’s correct.” Her eyes move over us as a group and land on Jackson then me before moving back to my future husband. “Are we able to check in now? I know it is early, but we have so much to do,” he says and my eyebrows furrow in confusion. We have very little to do, except hand in our paperwork at the local registry office. He cocks his head to one side, never taking his eyes off the woman behind the desk.

“I will take a look for you, sir,” she says, a pretty-pink hue coating her cheeks.

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