Page 26 of Mark

Twelve days. I just hope I can avoid him as much as possible.

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After freshening up and changing into some beige linen shorts and a white crop top, I glance in the long-length mirror behind the door.

Whilst I didn’t braid my hair, I did clip it back, leaving a few wayward strands to fall down, framing my face.

I grab my red lipstick that has lip balm in to quickly finish off my makeup before picking up my small clutch bag.

I open the door at the same time the occupier of the cabin opposite opens theirs. I feel the blood drain from my face when I see who is standing there.

He hasn’t seen it’s me yet, but that doesn’t stop his eyes from running up my body. A smirk lifts his lips as he gets to my waist.

Before he can ogle my tits in this top, I growl, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

His eyes are wide as saucers as his head snaps up. “No.”

His cousin Liam peeks over his shoulder, and a whistle echoes in the air. “Nice.”

“Move cabins,” Mark demands.

I place my hand on my hip, arching a brow. “You move rooms.”

“I said it first,” he splutters out.

“Are you twelve?”

He growls low in his throat. “I’m going to get a pint.”

When he walks off, I pull out my map, determined to get away from him too. I follow the directions that will lead me to the top deck, and realise we are going the same way.

Fuck.

When we reach the lifts, I don’t follow them on. Instead, I move to the next one a little further down. A few minutes later, I’m making my way up to the top deck, where an outdoor bar and patio area is located.

I spot my nanna first and make my way over to where she’s ogling the hot bartender.

“Nanna,” I greet, sliding onto the seat next to her.

She spins at my voice, her entire smile widening as she places her cold hand on my cheek. “There’s my favourite grandchild.”

She isn’t lying either.

Surprisingly, she’s my dad’s mum. She’s a free spirit, even when my granddad was alive. She’s also not my mum’s biggest supporter but she does love her. Same with Esther.

My other nan is strict on tough love. She doesn’t do hugs or heart-to-hearts. She’s blunt and expects the best from everyone. My mum can never do good in her eyes. Not even me or Esther.

“Already picking your next toy boy out?” I tease.

She leans into me. “Always.”

“What happened with Toby?” I ask, mentioning her last boyfriend, who was twenty years younger than her.

“You should know me by now. There’s only one man who could tie me down and he’s gone.”

I lean in and hug her because I’ve missed her crazy arse. She doesn’t live close but I do get to see her every two weeks. And it’s not because of my schedule. It’s hers. If she isn’t away living her best life, she’s shacking up with some new guy. She’s seventy-two and she should be taking it easy. Yet it’s like she was gifted youth because she doesn’t show any signs of slowing down. “It’s so good to see you. No one told me you were coming.”

“Why would they?” she asks, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. “I wasn’t planning on coming.”

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