Clara Meets The Parents (Clara Andrews #2) (6 page)

BOOK: Clara Meets The Parents (Clara Andrews #2)
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12.17pm

 

To: [email protected]

 

From: [email protected]

 

Subject: CALL ME ASAP!!

 

ANSWER YOUR PHONE!!!

 

 

 

Chapter 15

 

Red and bruised from the eyebrows down, I slowly put one foot in front of the other and try not to squeal. Having made it through the massage alive, I foolishly thought that the worst was over. Boy, was I wrong. I honestly don’t think that a single hair managed to escape the wrath of Kacie. Since when was it the done thing to wax someone’s boobs?

Feeling like a freshly plucked chicken, I take another couple of steps and try not to cry as the sun burns down on my raw skin. Leaning on a palm tree for support, I have a quick glance around for Janie. Maybe she is in too much pain and has gone back to the room? I wouldn’t blame her, this is agony.

Spotting a secluded beach bar, I decide a drop of the hard stuff couldn’t hurt. Waddling over like a two hundred year old tortoise, I am about to take a seat when I spot Janie. Lounging in a hammock, Martini glass in hand, she gives me a little wave. Great minds must think alike. Not having the strength to walk any more, I beckon her over and lean on the bar. Scanning the drinks menu, I order a Pink Lady cocktail and try not to cry at the irony. To be fair, I am probably more purple than pink.

‘Clara! How was it?’ Janie flicks some imaginary dust off my shoulder and I can’t help but notice her immaculate French manicure.

‘Have you had your nails done?’ I snatch her hand and marvel at the impeccable handy work.

‘I have indeed.’ She flashes me a joker worthy smile and props herself up on a bar stool.

Taking my sunglasses off, I look her up and down. How come I didn’t get a manicure? And why is she so brown all of a sudden?

‘Janie.’ Spinning around to face her, I put two and two together and hope that I have got this wrong. ‘What treatments did you have?’

‘You mean you can’t tell? God dammit, I knew I shoulda gone for the Moroccan Tagine.’ She throws her legs onto my lap and I immediately knock them off.

‘Janie!’ I shout, slamming down my hand on the bar.

‘What?’ She sucks on her straw innocently, but I don’t believe the angel act for a second.

‘How could you do this to me? I have been pounded within an inch of my life and stripped of every hair on my body.’ Feeling tears prick in the corners of my eyes, I turn away quickly.

‘Oh don’t be such a baby! Oliver told me you needed a good massage and as for the wax, I did you a favour. No one wants to see a yeti in a bathing suit.’

For fear of saying something that I will later regret, I furiously grab my bag and awkwardly shuffle to my feet.

‘Clara! Come on! Don’t be so dramatic. Here, have another cocktail.’ She pushes the drinks menu towards me and casually strolls back to her hammock.

Not looking back, I stomp out of the bar and flag down a passing golf buggy. Collapsing down next to a chunky, elderly man, I ensure my sore legs are safely tucked out of the sun’s glare.

‘It’s a beautiful day.’ The elderly man turns to me and smiles.

Thankful to finally hear a British accent, I nod in response. ‘Yes, it is. Or at least it was.’

Raising his bushy eyebrows, he picks up his paper and turns away. I sense that he doesn’t want to know, but I can’t help but tell him anyway. By the time I have finished filling him in on my morning from hell, he puts down the paper and frowns.

‘Let me get this straight. You’re mad at your boyfriend’s mother because she booked you a couple of spa treatments? Lord, what problems you have.’ Shaking his head, he stares at me in bewilderment.

We ride in silence for a moment and I feel a little stung by his words. As the golf buggy comes to a stop, he folds up the newspaper and hops off. His words ring through my ears as I watch him walk away. Maybe I am being too soft. I guess some crazy people do pay for these so called procedures. What if she genuinely thought these would be treatments I would enjoy? Directing the driver back to the beach, I pass him some pesos. Why am I always thinking the worst in people? Now I feel pretty bad, sore, bruised and bad.

 

Pulling up outside the beach bar, I am relieved to see that Janie is still here. I am not so relieved to see that Oliver and Randy are here too. Wincing at my stinging bikini line, I hold my hand up in acknowledgement as Oliver pads over the sand.

‘What the hell happened?’ Oliver’s brow creases into a frown.

‘What do you mean?’ Twirling a strand of hair around my sweaty fingers, I pretend not to know what he is talking about.

‘My mom is really upset over there.’

Looking behind him at a chuckling Janie, I shoot him a questioning glare. ‘She is?’

‘Yeah.’ He sounds really annoyed. ‘She said you shouted her?’

‘Well, yes, but, I...’

‘Look, I don’t know what went down here, but can you please come over and apologize? I really need the two of you to get along.’

Following him over to the table, I try not to be self conscious as Randy and Janie’s conversation dries up. Taking a seat next to Janie, I pop my bag on the floor.

‘Calmed down now, little miss antsy pants?’ Janie waves her empty glass at the waiter.

‘I have and I’m really sorry for losing my temper. I hope you can forgive me?’ Chewing the inside of my cheek, I await her response, silently praying for the waiter to bring me a margarita too.

‘Honey, it’s OK.’ Flinging her arms around my neck, she pulls me in tight. ‘And just so you know, I put a lot of thought into choosing those treatments.’ Loosening her vice like grip, she flashes me a devilish grin. ‘A lot of thought.’

Oh my God! She did mean for me to have a horrible time! I can’t believe it!

‘That’s what I like to see, my two favourite girls getting along.’ Oliver leans over and ruffles our hair like a pair of naughty school kids.

‘Hey, amigo! Where are those margaritas at?’ Randy yells at the busy barman.

Now that is a question I would really like to know the answer to.

 

Chapter 16

 

‘I’m not feeling too comfortable with this.’ As the speedboat zooms away from the shore, I feel my stomach start to churn.

Why did I agree to this? Why can I never just say no? Watching Janie get fastened into her harness whilst wearing the world’s shortest denim hot pants, I am suddenly reminded why. Over a beautiful Italian meal last night, Randy spontaneously announced that he had booked us all on to a parasailing trip.

Apparently my lovely, thoughtful boyfriend had failed to mention that I am petrified of heights. At first I politely declined, but was then tormented by an intoxicated Janie for being a baby. After finally giving in, I spent all night tossing and turning with worry and now that it is actually happening, I really don’t think that I can go through with it.

‘Clara, come on. It’s fun! Once you get up there you will love it! I promise.’ Oliver rubs my back encouragingly as I curl my toes in the sand, trying to think of an excuse to get out of it.

Seeing the speedboat coming back our way, I try to stop my stomach from doing flips. ‘What happens if the wire breaks?’

‘The wire won’t break.’ Laughing, Oliver kicks off his flip flops and wades into the water confidently.

‘Wait a minute!’ I shout out to him, my voice noticeably higher than normal. ‘What if it does break?’

‘Clara, for the love of God. The wire will not break. Now get your ass out here.’ Clambering up the steps onto the boat, he signals for me to come over.

Fiddling with the buckle on my sandal for a little longer than necessary, I begrudgingly follow his lead, praying that I survive this.

The moment my feet land on the boat, I feel horrendously nauseas. Did I not mention that I also get terribly sea sick? Willing myself not vomit, I try to focus on my breathing. In through the nose and out through the mouth. I am zoned out that much, that I don’t even notice the very cute man buckling me into a worryingly worn out harness.

‘Is this it?’ I ask, pointing to the flimsy fastening. ‘Is this all that will be keeping me safe?’

‘No! You will also be needing this.’ I take the life vest and eye it up carefully, trying not to be alarmed at the faint hissing sound.

‘All ready?’ An excited Oliver asks, grabbing my hand.

‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

Not wanting to look up, I keep my eyes fixed firmly on my wobbly knees. The instructor reels off safety instructions, but I try my best to block them out. My nerves are not helped by the fact that the patchwork life vest and dodgy old whistle are my only hopes of survival.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut as the engine starts to roar. I actually cannot believe that I am doing this. The wind starts to pick up at an alarming pace, causing my feet to slowly lift off the boat. Feeling myself start to sway back and forth, I will myself not to vomit. The last time I felt like this was on a dodgy fairground ride in 1998.

‘Clara! Open your eyes! You gotta see this!’ Oliver’s animated voice travels through the air and I cautiously peel open one eye.

Oh my God! How did we get this high so quickly? Looking down at the sparkling water below us, I am suddenly very aware that the only thing holding me up is a threadbare wire, in a very questionable double knot. There is no way this would pass health and safety regulations back home. Staring out to sea, I try to see the fun side of this. The exhilarating, adrenaline fuelled, exciting side. It doesn’t take me long to decide that this really isn’t for me. Oliver on the other hand, is leaning forward in his harness making me incredibly nervous.

‘Do you have to do that?’

‘Oh come on!’ Oliver laughs and continues anyway.

As I try to find something to focus on to get through this ordeal, a high pitched cackle behind us catches my attention. What the hell is that? Praying that it’s not a goddamn pelican, I strain my neck around. Oh no! It’s worse than a pelican, far worse. It’s Randy and Janie. How are they so close to us? There is absolutely no way that this is safe.

‘Oliver, I’m really not feeling too good.’ Becoming incredibly hot and bothered, I wave my arms around trying to get the boat drivers attention. Not that it does much good with him being nothing more than a mere speck below us.

‘Oliver! I need to get down!’ Bile rises in my throat and I try to ignore it.

‘What did you say babe?’

‘I said, I need to get down!’ Kicking my legs in annoyance, I let out a frustrated squeal.

Only that is not all that comes out. The spinach omelette I had for breakfast makes a break for freedom, swiftly followed by the espresso and then unfortunately, the glass of fizz. For a moment I feel instantly better, only the good feeling doesn’t last long. The ear piercing shriek that follows my unfortunate incident almost makes my ears bleed. Spinning around in my harness, I cover my mouth in horror.

‘Argh! It’s in my hair! Randy! Do something!’

 

 

 

Chapter 17

 

Wandering around the hotel gift shop, I am relieved to be spending a little time on my own. After this morning’s parasailing fiasco, Oliver took his parents scuba diving, which obviously I decided not to take part in. Being up in the air didn’t agree with me so I really didn’t want to chance going below sea level. Once I had waved them off and expressed my sincere apologies to Janie for the hundredth time, I took myself off on a walk.

Wandering through the hotel grounds, it didn’t take me long to stumble across the coolest, little gift shop. Tucked away near the sea front, I almost walked straight passed it.

Picking up a tiny, ceramic jewellery box, I admire the hand painted Mexican flag. My mum would love this. Flipping it over, I try to convert the cost into sterling. Calculating it to be around a fiver, I drop it into my basket. As I make my way through the shop, I chuck a handful of turtle key rings in too, followed by a shimmering bottle of tequila.

Watching the shop assistant straighten up a window display, I tiptoe over for a closer look. Plucking a purple candy skull from the table, I study it closely, not being able to work out if I love it or hate it. Deciding that I love it, I pop it into my basket before picking up a coral and gold one. Hand painted with shades of vibrant red, it really is beautiful. Satisfied that I have fed my urge for a bit of retail therapy, I dump my chosen items down at the checkout. Impulse buying really is good for the soul. That and it turns out, a dodgy stomach. Result.

 

Later that day, I am sat on the rooftop terrace, sipping an ice cold drink, when my phone buzzes on the table. Seeing Lianna’s name flash up on the screen gives me butterflies. Finally! I have been dying to hear back from her! Jabbing on the message icon, the text pops up on the display.

 

Clara! I’m in Paris! Dan proposed under the Eiffel Tower! So happy! Call me when you’re home!

 

Wow! Paris! How romantic! Smiling from ear to ear, I clutch the phone to my chest happily. This is so exciting! It has been so long since I went to a wedding. I wonder what kind of wedding they will have? Ooo! I hope it is a big, white wedding! Checking my watch, I am about to finish up my drink when I spot Oliver coming my way. Really hoping that his parents aren’t with him, I flash him a smile.

‘Hey! Are you feeling better?’ He drops down in the seat opposite with a thud.

‘I am.’ I raise my glass as if to emphasise my point.

‘You sure?’ Grabbing my hands, he stares at me intently, his eyes creased with concern.

‘Yes! I got motion sickness that’s all. Where are your parents?’

‘Dad is taking my mom to Isla Mujeres on a boat trip, so it’s just you and me.’ Kissing my hand gently, he pulls me to my feet. ‘Come on.’

‘Wait! I have news!’ Spinning around to face him, I place my empty glass on the bar.

‘You do?’ Oliver’s eyes light up and his mouth peels back into a huge grin.

‘Lianna and Dan have got engaged!’

‘That’s fantastic! When did this happen?’ The smile stays put, but the twinkle in his eyes fades a little.

‘Dan took her to Paris and proposed under the Eiffel Tower! Isn’t that just perfect?’

‘Yeah. It’s not how I would do it, but it’s romantic.’ Entwining his fingers through mine, we begin walking back to the room.

‘Really? And how would you do it?’ Biting my lip, I gaze up at him expectantly.

‘Ring in the dessert. Definitely.’

What? That is the lamest proposal I have ever heard. He’s joking. He has to be joking. I hope.

‘Anyway.’ Shaking my head to get rid of the pathetic image, I change the subject. ‘What do you have planned for tonight?’

‘Actually, I thought we could stay in and order room service. How does that sound?’

‘I can’t think of anything I would want to do more.’

 

Fresh from the shower, I dive under the covers and make a grab for the room service menu.

‘Get me the burger. No the pizza, actually, get both.’ Passing over the menu to Oliver, I flick on the air conditioning. ‘Do you fancy sharing a pepperoni?’

‘Sounds good. Fries?’

‘Absolutely. Oh, and get a bottle of bubbles! We are on holiday after all.’ Stretching out on the soft bedding, I make a mental note to order new sheets when we get back home.

‘Do you think that’s wise?’ He drops the menu as his brow creases into a frown.

‘What do you mean?’ Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I look at him confused.

‘Look, I wanted to leave it until you felt ready to tell me, but I don’t want you to be going through this alone.’ Leaning down, he strokes my hair fondly.

‘What are you talking about?’ Perplexed, I roll out of bed and slip on a bath robe.

‘It’s OK. You don’t need to pretend anymore. I know.’ He wraps me up in a bear hug and I wiggle free frustrated.

‘You know what?’

‘I know that you’re pregnant!’ He throws his arms in the air and laughs happily.

‘What?’ Feeling like I have been scolded with a hot iron, I push him away. ‘I’m not pregnant! Why on Earth would you think that?’

‘Oh, come on! The ravenous appetite, the morning sickness, the bloating. We’ve all noticed it’

‘Bloating?’ Mortified, I suck in my stomach. ‘I haven’t been bloated! Have I?’

‘Why are you fighting this? I’m going to be here for you. It’s gonna be OK.’

‘Oliver! I am not going to say this again. I am not pregnant.’ Exasperated, I stomp towards the bathroom.

‘Alright. Prove it.’

Stopping dead in my tracks, I turn around slowly. ‘I don’t need to prove anything. I am categorically not pregnant.’

‘Then you won’t have any problem with taking a test.’ He slips on his shoes and makes for the door.

‘Where are you going?’ Following him out into the hotel lobby, I pull the fluffy robe tightly around me.

He smiles like the cat that got the cream and kisses me on the nose.

‘To get a test.’

BOOK: Clara Meets The Parents (Clara Andrews #2)
6.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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