Page 80 of A Lot to Unpack
I hit send but nothing happens. Then I get an error. Is it my signal? Something wrong with the app? Then I realise, I’m logged out. I’ve been booted out. Wow, Paige acts fast. Unless itwas Jordan who kicked me out. He must be so mad at me. I’ll bet he never wants to speak to me again.
And I don’t have anyone’s number, so I can’t message Jordan, or even Pete.
Oh, I’m such an idiot.
I make it to the hotel Paige booked – a modern, minimalist, super cool room with views over the runway that, ordinarily, would make my day, but I can’t think straight.
I’ve lost my job, I’ve humiliated myself, by being completely oblivious – because now it’s so easy to see that Paige was using me, trying to get me to scam Jordan out of the company, and I just blindly went along with it, because I thought we were part of the same sisterhood, done wrong by no-good men. I wonder if she even believed the things she was telling me about Jordan, or if she was lying, to turn me against him, to get me to do her bidding.
Jordan must think I betrayed him. Played him. Lied to him. God, I hope he doesn’t think that everything I said, when I opened up, was a lie. I really hope he doesn’t think I only slept with him to make the contract switch.
I just have to face it. He knows. And worst of all, he’s right to think I was involved, because I was. Even if I didn’t mean to be, even if I didn’t know the facts, even if I changed my mind. I’ve been so stupid. I don’t know how much Jordan hates me – I’d imagine quite a lot – but I hate myself even more.
And with thoughts like these, who needs enemies?
31
First class isn’t quite as exciting on the way back.
The seat still reclines into a bed. The champagne still flows and sparkles in equal measure. Warm flannels are still being handed to me with tongs – and I have another pair of pyjamas. But it all feels… hollow. Like I’ve been downgraded, somehow.
The vibe is ruined. It’s not that the holiday is over – although that’s always a shame – it feels like everything is over, and it’s all my fault. My one stupid, honest mistake has ruined it all.
I stare out the window as the plane levels out above the clouds.
I wonder what Jordan must be thinking right now. I feel haunted by the look on his face, the one I’m imagining he made when he found out, when he realised it was me who was sent to betray him.
I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face – I didn’t know that the plan was for me to betray him, but he doesn’t know that. God, I wish I could tell him. The best I can do is tell the empty seat next to me, the one he would have been in if we were both taking our original flights home.
I wish I could have explained myself, told him what I thought my job was, and that this was all Paige manipulating me, but I feel like I’ve missed my chance, and I’ll bet the longer he sits with it, the more mad he probably gets at me. He’s never going to forgive me, is he?
And the bloody annoying thing is that I didn’t make the swap, I chose him. I was never going to do it.
I sigh and lie back in my seat, trying to appreciate the quiet luxury. The calm. The pillow that smells faintly of lavender. The food and drink that is seemingly never-ending.
Up here, life feels like it’s on pause. All time is free time. I could nap, I could watch movies, I could eat, read books, listen to music – do all the things I don’t feel like I have time to do in my day-to-day life.
Instead I’m just beating myself up, and even a first-class beating sucks.
I should be on top of the world right now. I should be heading back to the UK giddy with my new man, looking forward to introducing him to my family, taking him to my cousin’s wedding…
Instead of touching down with a man, I’m bringing bright red eyes, picked-at skin on the sides of my thumbs, and a pretty fucking bleak outlook on all things love and marriage. Not ideal for a wedding. My puffy eyes are really going to clash with the dress code colours.
Which only reminds me – what the hell am I going to tell everyone? Because stupidly I already told them that I’m bringing Jordan, an absolute dream date, and now I’m going it alone again. That needs explaining, whether I want to or not, and the truth simply is not an option.
I pull out my phone and open the notes app. If people ask – and they will ask – why Jordan isn’t with me, I need to give them something quick. Light. Believable. Anything but the truth.
Tech problems could work – a massive cyberattack, perhaps? Saying he’s working isn’t enough; it sounds like he cares more about work than me or the wedding, which isn’t good. It would need to be something big and scary – but wouldn’t something like that make the news?
I could say he was ill, I guess, but where would I say he was? Hospital? People might want to visit him. And why would I leave him, if he was ill? That makes me look bad.
I could borrow any one of the icks, for any of my failed dates – I could say he fell, he was a liar, he was too intense. I suppose I could always tell everyone that he broke up with me. I don’t think anyone would find that hard to believe, but then I would feel like I was making things all about me, garnering sympathy, when really I want the day to be all about Hannah. She deserves to have a wonderful wedding day free of drama – especially from me.
I suppose I’ll just stall at first, say he’s working, he’s in meetings but he’s coming after, and then on the day I’ll just drop a last-minute bombshell, something small but impossible to counter, like a flat tyre. These things happen, no one can help them, there’s no drama, it’s just disappointing, that’s all.
The reality isn’t disappointing though, is it? It’s devastating.
I’m going to put on a brave face. I have to. I’m going to show up to the wedding, smile until my cheeks ache, drink just enough to feel warm, but not weepy. And I’ll lie through my teeth when people say, ‘Where’s that new man of yours?’
