“Er, I don’t think so,” muses Rachel, almost to herself.
“Excuse me,” says Paige. “Are you saying my daughter’s not good enough for your son?”
“No,” says Rachel, forcing a laugh. “I’m just saying that I don’t think that will happen.”
“Why would it be such a bad idea?” asks Paige.
“It would just be weird. They’ve grown up with one another. It’d be like getting together with your best friend.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” says Paige, thoughtfully. “It’d be the modern-day equivalent of you and Noah getting together.”
“Exactly,” says Rachel, throwing her hands up in the air and shuddering for effect.
She’s grateful when the Dirty Dancing theme song starts playing through the patio speakers, and takes the opportunity to divert the increasingly uncomfortable conversation.
“Ah, this is our song,” she squeals, standing up and beckoning Jack, just like she did the first time they met on a crowded dance floor at an eighties night twenty years ago.
“I’m going to marry that man,” she’d said to her friend Cass, as she watched him dance the “Love Man” as well as she’d ever seen anyone do. With the exception of Patrick Swayze, of course.
“Yeah, you and every other girl in this place,” Cass had replied, laughing.
He’d made his way across the floor toward her as soon as she’d gestured to him. Incredibly, it never occurred to her at the time that he wouldn’t; such is the confidence of youth.
“You seem to know what you’re doing,” she’d said as he’d pulled her in close and they’d gyrated against each other.
He’d smiled, revealing two dimples. “What can I say? I know every song and every dance move.”
Rachel had had to restrain herself from taking him by the hand and dragging him to the DJ booth to request “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life.”
“My husband and I are going to perform the finale as the first dance at our wedding,” she’d said.
Jack had looked at her, clearly bemused. “Does he know?”
“No,” she’d said. “Because I haven’t met him yet.”
A year and a baby later, she’d run to him at their wedding reception and he’d lifted her up to the strains of Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes.
Rachel smiles at the memory now. “Come on, Johnny,” she says in an American accent.
Jack laughs as he gets up. “Whatever you want, Baby,” he says, taking her in his arms and whisking her around the terrace.
She doesn’t want to spoil the moment, but they’ve never been ones to keep secrets from each other—at least she didn’t think they were—and she doesn’t want to start now.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Ali’s cheating?” she asks.
He looks at her, before going to speak and seemingly thinking better of it.
“You know you can tell me anything,” she goes on, hoping to coax a reason from him as to why he’s kept her out in the cold on this.
“I didn’t want you to worry about it,” he says, kissing her on the forehead. “Because I know how much you love Will.”
“But don’t you think we should tell him?” she asks, breathing him in as he holds her tight. “So that he has the choice of whether he marries her or not?”
“He may already know,” he says, spinning her out and pulling her back in again. She can’t help but giggle that he still knows the routine. “Either way, he’s happy, and I’m not about to be the one to destroy that, because he might never forgive me.”
Rachel can see where he’s coming from. “So, we’re assuming whatever was going on with this Rick guy is over, as otherwise why would she marry Will if she wants to be with someone else?”
“Exactly,” said Jack. “And I’d rather Will be in blissful ignorance, because what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”
“May I steal your man from you?” interrupts Ali as she sidles up beside the pair of them.
Rachel looks at Jack wide-eyed as Ali tries to wedge herself between them. Putting one arm around his waist and taking his hand in hers, Ali manhandles him across to the other side of the pool. Reluctance is written all over his face and it looks as if she is dragging a sack of potatoes around the patio.
“Do you know what?” he says, stopping stock-still, as if his feet are encased in concrete. “It’s been a long day and I’m whacked.”
“Oh, don’t be so boring,” whines Ali. “Dance with me, at least until the end of the song.”
Rachel wonders if everyone can see the restraint he’s having to exercise, the tension in his stance, the involuntary tic in his jaw. Or do they have to know him as well as she does to know that the pressure cooker is about to explode?
4
“Wow!” says Rachel, as she steps out onto the terrace the next morning, to where Paige, Noah, Will and Ali are already nursing their hangovers.
The ocean stretches out as far as the eye can see and waves bigger than she’s ever seen before crash into the cliffs below the villa, with a thunderous roar.
“It’s awesome, isn’t it?” says Will. “Nature at its very best.”
“I can’t believe I slept through this,” says Rachel, over the rumbling of another swell; the white crest of which is just about to fold in on itself.
She takes herself to the edge of the patio and turns to look back in from the peninsula onto the beach inland. “Is that where we’re going?” she says, pointing to the pristine golden sands where surfers are running in and out of the breakers.
“Yep,” says Will, walking toward her with a freshly brewed coffee. “We’ll jump on the funicular.”
Rachel smiles, remembering the cable car she and Noah got stuck in for an hour as it swung precariously over snow-peaked mountains in Chamonix. He’d spent most of it with his eyes closed, begging her to stop rocking it.
“I can’t wait to get out there,” says Will, looking at the ocean in awe.
“But these waves are huge,” says Rachel.
“That’s what this area is famous for. Surfers from all over the world come to Nazaré at this time of year, hoping to be lucky enough to ride the big one.”
“So, how big is the big one?” Rachel asks, shuddering involuntarily.
“It could be anything up to thirty meters,” says Will, his eyes alight.
“I don’t think Jack and Noah are able to tackle anything like that,” she says, her eyes wide with panic.
Will smiles. “I’ve checked the forecast and it’s due to die right down later this morning, so the conditions should be perfect.”
“They’ll be okay, won’t they?” says Rachel, as a sense of unease wraps itself around her.
“They’ll have to be.” Will laughs. “Otherwise I’m going to be a guest and a best man short.”
“Right, who’s up for going to the supermarket?” calls out Paige from behind them.
“Yep, give me a minute to get myself sorted and I’ll show you where it is,” says Will, walking back across the terrace. “Rach, you want to come?”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind getting some shampoo,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. “The soft water out here is playing havoc with my hair.” She lifts up her brown tresses, which are already beginning to dry and frizz from the shower she’s just had.
“Okay. Noah and I will go and wait by the van,” says Paige. “What about Jack?”
“Well, he was fast asleep when I came down,” says Rachel. “So, probably best to leave him.”
“Sleeping off a hangover, is he?” asks Ali, laughing wryly.
“Something like that,” says Rachel through a forced smile.
“Ali?” Will calls. “Can you grab my wallet from downstairs?”
“Actually, I’m going to stay here if that’s okay,” she calls back. “I just need to make a couple of phone calls—make sure the yoga’s booked and my manicure is sorted for this afternoon.”
“Okay, cool,” says Will. “Is there anything you need?”
“I can’t think of anything,” says Ali. “Oh, apart from that sardine paste that they do out here. If you see any of that, grab some and we can have it on toast—it’s insane.”
“No worries,” says Will, laughing. “Give us a call if you think of anything else.”