Page 56 of Paradise Pride

“We never said you were.” Her father frowned. “We were simply reflecting on our experience, and guess what?” He paused for dramatic effect. “It brought us even closer together because we realised we only wanted to be with each other. Your mother and I are what they call kindred souls.”

“It’s true,” her mother agreed. “I had this woman in my salon the other day, and she was into weird stuff—energies and auras and other things I’d never heard about. And guess what she said?”

Meghan glanced at her blankly. “I don’t know.”

“She said I had an abundance of love in my life and that I’d hit the jackpot with my partner. She also said that was rare, and that I was very lucky.” Her mother slammed a hand on the table. “And of course I know that, but we’d never met before and she could see it in the colours surrounding me. Isn’t that amazing?”

“You are lucky, darling.” Meghan’s father kissed his wife on her cheek. “And so am I. Very lucky.”

“You are,” Meghan said. She reflected on that and thought it was peculiar that the topic of auras had been brought up twice in a month, as it wasn’t something she normally talked or even thought about. “How on earth are you two still so happy together? Most of my friends’ parents are either divorced or in the process of getting divorced, and the few who are still together can’t stand each other from what I’ve seen. And how did you know that Dad was the one for you? I mean, you were so young. How could you possibly make the decision to marry him? Or vice versa,” she added, turning to her father.

“When it’s real, you just know,” her mother answered. “You’re consumed with the other person, and you can’t imagine a life without them.” She smiled. “Yes, we were young. Too young, perhaps, but it all worked out fine, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Despite her low mood, Meghan felt a warm buzz course through her. Her parents were sweet together, she’d always thought that, but they’d never had a conversation like this with her. Florence consumed her mind as well as her body. Meghan felt it everywhere each time she thought of her—the longing, the missing, the pull, even if they were twelve hundred miles apart. What if Florence was the one and Meghan let her get away?

If there was a time to tell her parents the truth about her holiday, it was now. She wanted to. Meghan took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak, but her mother beat her to it.

“I’m sorry to change the subject, but we need to talk about your birthday, as it’s coming up soon. Any ideas on what you’d like to do?”

Meghan shook her head, regretful the moment had passed. “No. I haven’t thought about it yet.” There would be other opportunities, she thought. Maybe some other time.

56

Florence

Rainy days were the worst at Paradise, and Florence struggled to keep up with the orders. When it rained, their guests were grumpy and looked at her as ifshewere responsible for the bad weather. With the lack of other distractions, they hung around the bar all day and drank too much, boring her with their negativity. It was understandable, of course. Some saved up the whole year to spend a week here, and if that week happened to be a rainy one, they felt like their holiday was ruined. No pool, no beach, no sightseeing. And all that was left was the free bar.

“We need another keg of lager,” she mumbled to Manuel. “Would you mind?”

Manuel pulled her to the back of the bar and lowered his voice. “How about this,” he said. “You try to smile for a while, and I’ll get the keg. You’ve been miserable for weeks and it’s getting old.”

“Sorry.” Florence shrugged. “I’ll do my best.”

“Please. I know Meghan fucked you up, but it was only a holiday fling, so get over it.” He cupped her face and used his thumbs to pull the corners of her mouth upwards. “There you go. Much better.”

Despite her state, Florence couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, go.” She slapped his behind before he walked off.

“You two seem intimate. Is that your boyfriend?” a woman at the bar asked her.

“Manuel?” Florence chuckled wholeheartedly this time. “Gross. No.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call him gross. I’ve rarely seen such a beautiful specimen.” The woman grinned. “Is he single?”

“Always,” Florence joked. “But we’re not allowed to get involved with guests, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“Too bad.” The woman downed the rest of her white wine and pointed to her glass for a refill. “And you? Are you single?”

“It looks like it.” Florence grabbed a bottle from the fridge and topped up her glass. She felt sick every time she thought of Meghan. Not because she hated her but because she missed her.

“That’s a vague answer. Are you in the doghouse or something? I am, that’s why I’m here alone. My husband had enough of me because he thinks I was flirting with my colleague. I wasn’t,” she added. “He’s just got a paranoid personality.”

Considering the woman’s interest in Manuel, Florence was more inclined to give her husband the benefit of the doubt, but she smiled and said, “I’m sure it will all work out. Sometimes people just need some time apart.” She wasn’t convinced of that. So far, she hadn’t heard from Meghan, and she hadn’t contacted her either. She’d been sad and down and it hurt, but if Meghan decided it was only a holiday romance, or if she wasn’t ready to admit she was gay, there was nothing Florence could do about it, and she’d have to move on. Moving on wasn’t easy, though, and she’d been far from her bubbly and chatty self at work. She tried her hardest to engage with the guests, but at the end of her workday, she was so exhausted from pretending she was fine that she just wanted to sleep.

“I disagree about the time apart.” The woman gulped down her wine like it was water. “I thought so too, at first, but since I’ve been here, all I want is to have wild sex with a stranger who I’ll never see again.”

“I’m always up for a jiggy.” A bald British man who had overheard their conversation held up his hand. “I’ll give you one, babe. Free of charge.” He stroked his hairy, bare chest, then patted his chubby belly with a roaring laugh, causing everyone else to laugh along.

Florence sighed and rolled her eyes as more people joined in, both men and women joking about how they wouldn’t mind straying from their partner for once. The standard of conversation was basic at best, but at least she could close up in two hours and go back to bed, where she’d sleep through her heartache for as long as she could.

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