The Guilt Trip

Noah goes to interrupt but she puts her hand up. “There was every chance that you’d be saying them to someone else before we’d even reached Bangkok and I wasn’t prepared to take that risk; I’d rather be broken-hearted at home with Jack, than a thousand miles away with you and another girl.”

“But why didn’t you say anything?” asks Noah. “How could I have known how you felt without you telling me?”

She takes his hand in hers again. “What difference would it have made?” she says, softly.

“The world,” he says, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. “Because, if you’d told me, I would have told you I felt exactly the same.”

Rachel’s chest feels like it’s in a vise-like grip, as she looks up at the sky, the blackness alight with twinkling stars.

“It was a long time ago,” she says, wishing that her head was clearer. “We’ve all moved on. You met Paige—if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have Chloe. It’s the tapestry of life.”

“But I want you,” says Noah, pulling her closer.

The change in tense throws Rachel for a loop. She can deal with nostalgia tangling itself into looking like a missed opportunity. But what she’s not prepared for is the here and now: they’re both married, they’re best friends—and wanting each other isn’t an option.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ears, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw. It feels like she’s gone back in time, and is about to make a decision that will change the course of her life. Maybe it is possible to have more than one sliding-doors moment.

“I have never stopped loving you,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek, his lips igniting a heat in her skin that runs deep into her veins. His face is still there, so close to hers, and his hand is nestled at the back of her neck, the pulse in his thumb matching her own.

Rachel closes her eyes as she breathes him in, his smell and touch making her feel as if there are a thousand butterflies about to take flight in the pit of her stomach. She could stay like this forever, trapped in a parallel universe where they could be together. But reality is seeping in, through the hairline chink of light that stands between his lips and hers. She has to open her eyes, to separate herself from that life and this, but when she does, she gets a jolt. Standing there watching them, just a few meters away, is Ali.





12



“Noah!” a woman’s voice calls out. “Noah, are you out here?”

Rachel freezes, locking eyes with Ali as Paige’s voice hangs on the night breeze.

“Hello? Is someone there?” she says, getting nearer.

“It’s me,” Ali says, stepping into the light.

“Oh, right,” says Paige. “I’m looking for Noah. Have you seen him?”

Rachel holds her breath and sways, feeling as if she might pass out.

“Erm,” says Ali, drawing it out for what feels like minutes. “No, I don’t think I have.”

“I can’t seem to find him,” says Paige. “Or Rachel.”

Ali looks behind her to where Rachel’s concealed behind an outbuilding. “Ah, that’s because she’s here,” she says.

Rachel’s legs feel as if they might give way.

“Oh,” says Paige, as Rachel walks unsteadily into her line of sight. “What are you doing out here? Is everything all right?” She looks from Rachel to Ali and back again, trying to gauge the situation.

“We’re just having a sneaky puff,” says Ali, putting a finger to her lips. “But don’t tell Jack.”

“You’re smoking?” asks Paige incredulously. Rachel had never smoked in her life and had often berated Jack and Paige if they went halves on a packet of cigarettes when they’d had a drink.

Ali hands her a lit cigarette as if it were something they did all the time.

“Yep,” Rachel says, taking it and putting it up to her mouth. She knows if she inhales, she’ll be in all sorts of trouble, so she tightly closes her lips and hopes that the darkness will work in her favor.

“You haven’t seen Noah, have you?” asks Paige. “I haven’t seen him for a while and after what happened today, I’m a bit worried that I’m going to find him in a heap somewhere.”

Rachel hates herself. For allowing the events of the day to get the better of her. For distrusting her husband. For deceiving Paige. But most of all, she hates herself for giving Ali this power to lord over her.

“I saw him about ten minutes ago and he seemed fine,” says Ali, taking back the cigarette that Rachel is proffering her.

“Oh, great,” says Paige. “Well, once I find him, we’re going to make our way home. I don’t want him exerting himself too much ahead of tomorrow.”

Rachel shudders involuntarily at the well-meaning comment. “I’ll come with you,” she says, eager to get away from Ali and all that she now knows.

“We’re probably all ready to go,” says Ali, dashing Rachel’s plan. “The minivan’s out front, so I’ll say my goodbyes.”

“You okay?” asks Paige as soon as they’re out of earshot of Ali. “How come you’re best friends all of a sudden?”

Rachel forces a smile. “Just trying to keep the peace,” she says, cringing at the irony.



* * *



“Who’s up for a nightcap?” asks Ali as soon as they get back to the villa.

“Not for me,” says Noah as he heads up the stairs. “I’m turning in for the night.”

Rachel can’t look at him, mostly for fear of what she’ll see behind his eyes, but also because she’s afraid of what Ali will make of it if she does.

She’d spent the twenty-minute journey back from the restaurant trying to predict what Ali would do with the information she may or may not have. To preserve her own sanity, Rachel has to assume that Ali saw and heard nothing. But the likelihood is that she saw and heard everything, and that thought resounds around and around her head on a loop.

Though, to look at Ali now, it’s as if nothing has changed. There are no knowing sideward glances or the judgmental raising of an eyebrow. There are no sly digs or inappropriate comments, which only serves to unsettle Rachel even more. She’d rather just know what Ali knows, and what she’s intending to do with the knowledge, than be blindsided when Jack no doubt confronts her.

If Ali’s going to tell him that there’s even a question mark hanging over Josh’s head, Rachel would rather have the excruciating conversation with Jack herself, as at least then she’d be able to say what needs to be said with some semblance of accuracy and truth. Though, the thought of telling the man who’d believed he was his son’s father for nineteen years, that he might not be, makes her break out into a cold sweat. How duped will he feel when he finds out that the newborn he’d cherished beyond anything else might be another man’s baby? How deceived will he feel when he knows that the four-year-old boy he’d taught to ride a bike without stabilizers should have been wobbling his way toward someone else? How will he feel to be told that those three nights he spent on a boys-only camping trip with Josh when he was ten might not have been the father–son bonding experience he’d thought it was?

Josh is Jack’s world and the thought of Ali having the power to turn it upside down makes Rachel’s insides feel like they’re being pulled out of her.

“Who wants what?” Ali asks, shrugging off Will’s jacket that he’d wrapped around her when she complained of being cold.

“I’ll go,” says Rachel.

“Great, I’ll have a white wine then, please,” says Ali.

“I’ll have a beer,” says Will, falling down into one of the deep sofas.

“Jack?” asks Rachel, conscious that they hadn’t spoken two words since leaving the restaurant. She catches Ali looking at him and has a momentary panic that she might already have divulged her biggest secret.

“I’ll have a beer as well,” he says sulkily, as he follows Noah up the stairs.

“Where are you going?” she asks, alarmed.

When he doesn’t answer, she can’t help but go up after him, as her brain fast-forwards to the pair of them having a punch-up on the landing and one or both of them coming crashing down onto the glass coffee table in the living room below.

She breathes out as Noah disappears into his room and Jack keeps walking toward theirs. She silently follows him in and closes the door behind her.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, as he disappears into the bathroom.

Sandie Jones's books