Love Far Away (A Spicy Contemporary Romance) (4 page)

T
he first step was for Megan to book the days off.
We picked a week at the end of June, a month away. Once she’d confirmed that
she could get the time off, I called my parents and asked if they could watch
Henry and Olivia while I went on a trip with the girls.

“Of course, honey,” said my mom sympathetically. “You need
some time to get away and have fun. We’ll do our best to keep the kids busy.
Where are you going?”

“Thanks,” I said. “I think we’re planning to go to Vegas. But
also maybe a beach in Florida somewhere. Just somewhere we can go and not have
to think about everything that’s happening.” I sighed. “I just- I never saw it
coming, Mom, you know? I mean- things weren’t perfect, nothing ever is. But I
was happy, overall. I thought he was happy. We had our ups and downs and little
fights, but no marriage is perfect, and I thought he was just preoccupied with
being busy at work and adjusting to his new position. I figured things would
calm down eventually- buying a house and moving is stressful, and once we got
through that I figured that he’d get used to the new workload and the position,
the kids would adjust, we could spend some time over the summer
reconnecting...I just didn’t see it coming at all.”

“I’m so sorry, Julia,” my mom sympathized. “I can’t imagine
what that’s like. I don’t know- from an outsider point of view, I’ve known
Bradley a long time, and seen the two of you together for a long time. And I
did think something changed. I don’t know if you changed on your own, or if he
changed and that made you change, or what, but when I looked back at who you
are today, thirty years old, and when I look at who you were in high
school...well, it’s two different people.”

“Of course it is, Mom,” I said. “I was a teenager with no
responsibilities back then. Now I’m a mom, I have a mortgage and a car payment
and life insurance and a home to manage and kids to raise and a home business
to try and run- of course I’ve changed.”

“You didn’t change together, though,” said Mom. “That’s what
I meant. Of course who you are as a person evolves as you get older, but if
you’re lucky, you both change into people who still love each other and get
along. You turned into someone, he turned into someone else. And those people
might not get along as well as Julia and Bradley of eight years ago did.”

I couldn’t quite hear the ‘I told you not to get married so
young’ in there, but I thought it was in the background. My parents had warned
me, after all, not to marry so young- live on your own for a year, get the
feeling of independence, my mother had urged me. Don’t go straight from your
parents’ home to a man’s. I hadn’t listened because I was young and in love.

“Well,” I said, “thanks. I think.”

“I don’t mean ‘I told you so’,” said Mom hurriedly. “Just-
I’ve watched you lose your sparkle over the past while. I know it sounds cheesy
but it’s true. Just seemed like life- love- was getting you down. You weren’t
the same girl I remembered. So if you need to take a break from all this mess
and go out there and find that sparkle, or get in touch with yourself and
remember who you are- not as a mother, not as a wife, but who Julia is- you go
out there and do it.”

My mother’s words echoed in my head for the next few days.
She was right, of course- our mothers always are, aren’t they? I could only
vaguely remember what life was like before babies and husbands. There was joy
in being a mother, but there was so much drudgery too. I needed this break. I
needed to remember who I was.

Bradley hadn’t moved out, but he was sleeping on the couch
for the time being. I was trying my hardest to put on a good face for the kids
and be as friendly and normal around him as I could, but when it was just the
two of us I could hardly bear to even look at him. Ironically, now that he’d
told me he wanted a divorce so he could be with this Nikki girl, he was coming
home early more often and spending more time at home. The day after I’d called
my mom, though, I waited until Henry and Olivia were in bed. Then I spoke in
the most flat, unemotional voice I could manage.

“By the way, since we won’t be going away on vacation
together while the kids are at my parents’ house, I’m going on a trip with the
girls at the end of the month. Just so you know.”

He looked up from the TV, startled. “Huh? What? No, you
can’t do that- who’s going to care for the kids?”

I turned away so I wasn’t facing him when I spoke. I
concentrated on using the most even tone I could. “Like I said, they’ll be with
my parents. You won’t have to lift a finger. In fact, it will make things even
easier for you.”

“Why, though? Why do you need a vacation?”

“Maybe,” I said, “because my husband of eight years and
partner of fourteen years just told me he is in love with someone else and no
longer wishes to be part of my family.”

“Knock off the melodramatics, Julia,” he said, turning back
to the TV. “You wouldn’t just up and leave on vacation.”

“Oh no? What makes you say that?”

“Because, that’s not who you are. You won’t just book a trip
at random and go. You’ll spend two months looking at all of the online reviews
and comparing prices and features of the different hotels and call me over
every twenty minutes until I want to scream and just not go after all. You’ll
print out a packing list for everybody and hover around and make sure that we
pack exactly how you want us to. When you finally get to wherever you’re going,
you’ll have a schedule to stick to.
Relaxing by the pool will take place
from ten to twelve on Tuesday morning
,” he mimicked my voice. “
After
that there’s lunch, yoga class, and then scuba diving, followed by showering
for dinner, dinner, and then drinks at the beach bar
. You don’t know how to
take a vacation and it is NOT RELAXING going away with you.” He exhaled.
“There’s something I’ve wanted to say for, oh, ten years now?”

I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction I was expecting from
him, but he was pissing me off. He was probably expecting me to cry. Instead, I
glared at him. “You don’t think I’m going to be able to go away to relax?”

“I don’t think, I know,” he said.

“And I’m sure Nikki’s idea of a perfect vacation involves
closing her eyes and throwing darts at a map,” I said sarcastically. “Followed
by landing at the airport with no clear idea of where she’s going to stay or
what she’s going to do.”

“You know what?” said Bradley. “It is. And we’ve talked
about time after time, the trips we want to take together. Close our eyes and
spin the globe and go wherever our feet take us. Hop on a plane with nothing
but one suitcase and show up in a new city, pick out a hotel on the fly, just
wander the city for hours and get lost together.”

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, picturing my husband
with this Nikki slut wandering hand-in-hand through some strange Middle Eastern
bazaar, or Amazonian rainforest, or old European city. I shuddered. “Well,” I
said, as calmly as I could, “it sounds like you two will be very happy
together.”

Bradley rolled his eyes. “Cut the martyr crap out, Julia.
You think it makes you look classy, like you’re taking the high road? It makes
you look pathetic.” He shook his head in disgust.

Without another word, I stomped out of the room like a
petulant teenager. I almost slammed the bedroom door, before I remembered my
two kids were sleeping down the hall and I didn’t want to wake them up. Instead,
I had an idea. In the top drawer of the bureau was where Bradley kept his
backup credit card. I pulled it out and stared at it for a good long while,
turning it around and around in my hands. I memorized the number on the front
and the three digit security code on the back. I looked at the expiration date
and the name embossed on the front. Bradley M Sutton. My throat tightened. He
was down there, living a weird parallel existence with me until we sorted out
our separation, and he didn’t care about me anymore.

I took a picture of the front and back of the card with my
phone, just in case I had trouble remembering the number.

Then I sat down and started searching for flights on my
phone. I’d book them right now, before I changed my mind. He was going to regret
this. I was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he’d be paying
for this for years. I bought four return plane tickets, one for me and one for
each of the girls. Then I called Megan.

“Screw Vegas,” I said. “And Miami. I just bought us all
tickets to Paris.”

Megan screamed so loudly when I told her that I had to hold
the phone away from my ear. “Are you FREAKING kidding me? PARIS? And you bought
us all tickets?”

“Bradley is going to be footing the bill for us,” I said,
glancing down at the credit card.

“Are you serious? Whoa. Why? Does he feel bad or something?”

“Something like that,” I said. “Um- don’t tell Ashley,
she’ll go nuts, but I took his credit card. Well, I didn’t take the actual
card, but I took a picture of it...” I trailed off.

“You know what? Asshole deserves whatever he gets,” Megan
declared. “Well, damn. Now we’re going to have to go shopping.”

“Save the shopping for Paris,” I told her. “Bring along an
empty suitcase.”

T
he time sped by and before I knew it, our
departure date had arrived. I kissed Henry and Olivia goodbye and dropped them
off at my parents’ house. Bradley swore he would not have Nikki over at our
house while I was gone, but he also had not yet discovered the credit card
charges, so I figured I should take precautions. First I hid all the extra
toilet paper in Olivia’s closet and piled stuffed animals on top so when the
current roll ran out, he’d go crazy looking for the stockpile. I stripped the
sheets off my former marital bed too. Bradley was still on the couch, and he
was too lazy to find clean sheets and make up the bed. I’d been doing it for
the past eight years of our marriage anyway. I wasn’t even sure if he knew
where the linen closet was in the new house. Then, while I was waiting for the
taxi to come pick me up and take me to the airport, I changed the wifi
password. I hesitated on that last one- was it too harsh? Bradley would die
without wifi. And it might possibly drive him straight out of my house and in
to Nikki’s.

I decided I didn’t care. He hadn’t shown any signs of second
thoughts. I’d made it clear to him that if he wanted to try and save our
marriage I would call a marriage counselor right away, but he wasn’t interested
and I couldn’t make him. It would take two people to make this marriage
salvageable, and in the meantime I sure as hell was not going to have another
woman in my home. When my taxi arrived, I got in without any second thoughts.

The flights that I’d booked were first to New York, and then
straight to Paris. I stood in line waiting to check in, looking around to see
if I could spot any of the girls. I was there early, but wanted to get checked
in right away. I had my purse and a small carry-on bag, and then my big
suitcase that was half empty for all of the clothes I’d be buying on Bradley’s
dime. Served him right.

Becca arrived a few minutes after me, followed by Megan, and
they both joined me in line. We chattered excitedly while we waited for our
turn.

“We should have done something like this ages ago,” said Megan.
“I can’t believe it took a crisis like this to for us to decide to just go.”

“I changed the wifi password before I left,” I confessed.
“And stripped the sheets off the bed and hid all the extra toilet paper. I
think Bradley thinks that stuff just appears out of nowhere when we get low.
I’m not even sure he knows where the linen closet is.”

Becca gasped, then giggled. “Oh my gosh,” she said. “That’s
awful yet hilarious at the same time.”

“I know,” I said. “I thought it might be too mean,
especially the wifi password. I mean...I’d die without it, and he’s worse than
me. But then I thought about it, and...”

“...Telling your wife you’re not in love with her anymore is
way worse,” Megan finished. “Dude can live without wifi for a couple weeks. It
won’t kill him. Maybe he’ll spend his spare time doing a lot of meaningful
self-reflection on what drove him to seek an emotional connection with someone
other than his wife.”

“He’ll probably just go to Nikki’s house,” I sighed.
“Whatever.”

Ashley showed up minutes before we were called up to the
counter to check in, and we handed over our suitcases to be weighed, tagged,
and sent off to the baggage handlers. We were given our boarding passes and
sent on our way to security where once again we waited in line to take off our
shoes and belts and produce our Ziploc baggies of tiny hand cream for
inspection. Once we’d made it through security, we walked through a maze of
hallways, escalators, and moving sidewalks to find the right gate and waiting
area. I started to head towards the hard plastic seats, but Ashley grabbed my
arm.

“Are you crazy? There’s a bar right over there! Let’s go
grab a drink!”

“It’s not even nine in the morning,” Becca protested.

“So I’ll have a mimosa then. Come on! We’re going on a
girls’ holiday! We should start it off with a drink. Oh come on, for me?”

So we all went over to the bar and let Ashley order for us
while we plopped down in the bar stools. I checked my phone to see if there
were any emergencies from my parents or if Bradley had discovered the wifi
password changed, but I had no new messages.

Megan noticed my phone out. “Put that thing away, Jules,”
she advised. “You’ll go crazy if you spend the whole time staring at it. Your
mom and dad are great with Henry and Olivia. Your husband’s an asshole and
deserves a couple weeks without toilet paper or wifi. If they need to get in
touch, they will! Just relax. You don’t want to miss Paris because you’re busy
staring at your phone, do you?”

“You’re right,” I admitted. I slid the phone back in my handbag.
“I’ll do my best to stop checking.”

Ashley came back with four mimosas for us all and passed
them around. “Cheers!” she cried. “Here’s to an amazing two weeks.” We all
clinked glasses and drank.

“I can’t wait to go shopping,” said Megan.

“I can’t wait to check out the nightclubs and restaurants,”
said Ashley.

“I want to visit some museums,” said Becca.

“Boooo-ring,” teased Ashley. “You’re such a teacher, Bec!”

“Well, you can’t visit Paris and skip the Louvre!” Becca
protested. “What are you looking forward to, Jules?”

I thought for a minute. I wanted to do all the things my
friends had mentioned- some shopping, checking out some of the restaurants and
maybe going to a club or two if I could find something to wear while we were
out shopping, and doing a bit of sightseeing during the day as well.

“Julia wants to find a hot rich French guy and have revenge
sex with him all over Paris,” said Ashley.

“You totally should,” Megan agreed.

I blushed hotly. “No! That’s not it. I just want to get lost
in the city, I think. I don’t know, find some narrow little streets and wander
down there and find a cute cafe to sit in with a coffee or a glass of wine and
forget about everything going on at home. Just- escape.”

Becca patted my knee sympathetically, but Ashley rolled her
eyes. “We’re going to get you drunk and find you a hottie European to hook up
with, mark my words. Another one please,” she hollered, waving her empty mimosa
glass at the bartender.

By the time Becca, Megan, and I had finished our first
drinks Ashley was polishing off her second. We left the bar and popped in to
the departure lounge’s convenience store, buying gum, water bottles, and
magazines for the plane ride. I almost pulled out my phone again, but Megan
snatched it out of my hands and turned it off for me. “You’ll have to turn it
off on the plane anyway,” she told me. “Might as well do it now, right?”

“You’re right,” I admitted. I opened a magazine instead and
read all about the latest Kardashian drama until our flight was announced for
boarding.

“Ooooh, Paris, here we come!” Ashley sang as we lined up to
show our boarding passes.

“Well, New York, then Paris, but who’s counting really?”
asked Becca.

The flight to New York was a shorter one, about an hour and
a half. We were able to find our second departure gate without much trouble,
and boarded not long after arriving. As we settled in to our seats I wished I’d
sprung for first class tickets. Megan and I were sitting next to each other by
a window, with Ashley and Becca across the aisle from us.

Megan settled back in to her seat. “I can’t believe we’re
really doing this,” she said. She looked at me. “You okay? You look kinda
sick.”

“I’m okay,” I said. “I feel a little queasy. Not motion
sickness queasy,” I added quickly. “Just a general, wow, I’m about to leave my
kids and fly over an ocean for the first time.”

“You’ll be fine,” she reassured me.

“I hope so,” I said. “Listen. Um, I feel like I should tell
you something. I haven’t said anything to Becca and Ash, but...well...know how
I booked our flights and said we’d be doing some serious shopping and I’d pay
for it all?”

“Yes...”

“Well...that wasn’t entirely truthful.”

Megan looked confused. “What do you mean?” she asked. “I
mean, I can pay my own way of course, I don’t mind, I have savings for vacation
and all-“

“No, that’s not what I meant,” I interrupted her. “I meant,
I’m not paying for this. Bradley is.”

Her eyes widened. “
Bradley
is? How’d you convince him
to do that?”

“I didn’t,” I said. “I- well, I guess I can’t show you
because my phone is turned off, but I took a picture of his backup credit card.
He said some really awful things to me and I got so mad, I just wanted him to
feel the way I do. I wanted him to just get the rug pulled out from under him
from nowhere, just a total shock he didn’t see coming- I want him to know how I
felt.”

“Shut. Up.” Megan’s mouth gaped open. “I can’t believe you
had the guts to do that! Wow. I mean good for you, girl, but wow.” She shook
her head, then giggled. “Let’s book a massive hotel suite and order all the
room service. Should we tell Ashley and Becca?”

“We’ll tell them later,” I said.

“On the way home Bradley should upgrade us to first class,”
said Megan, looking down at the foot and a half of space between her seat and
the seat in front.

“Bradley will definitely be doing that,” I agreed.

When we landed in Paris, it was just past ten PM local time,
but it felt like suppertime to our American-adjusted bodies. We got our
passports stamped by immigration, collected our suitcases from the luggage
carousel, and then stood around in a tight cluster.

“Soooo,” said Becca hesitantly. “Where now? Do we have a
hotel?”

“This is an adventure,” I told her. “It came to my attention
that any time I travel, I have to spend hours researching reviews and comparing
prices and features, so I decided that this time everything we do, we’re doing
on a whim.”

“You take the lead, then,” said Ashley. “Which bridge shall
we sleep under tonight?”

Immediately, I felt silly and a bit self-conscious. Maybe
Ashley was right and Bradley had been wrong. Maybe planning everything in
advance was the way to go. After all, here we were standing around in the Paris
airport without a clue where to go. I didn’t have the slightest idea what to
do. Catch one of the trains I saw signs for? Or a cab? But where would we go?

Megan rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Ash. There has to be
some kind of guest services guest that can help us find a hotel.”

Relieved, I smiled at my best friend. “Guest services,” I
repeated. “Right, let’s find them.”

Between the four of us, we remembered enough vocabulary from
high school French to figure out which direction we had to go. I was nervous
that at this hour any desk would be closed for the night, but to my relief we
found a guest services kiosk with a woman standing behind the counter.

“We’d like some help finding a hotel for the night,” I said,
speaking slowly but clearly.

“For how many nights?” she asked, in perfect but heavily
accented English.

I looked at my friends. “Are we going to stay here the whole
time? Or visit somewhere else?”

“Seat of your pants,” said Ashley, swatting my on the butt.

“Five nights,” I said decisively. We had flights back two
weeks from now, but now that we were in Europe, who said we had to stay in
Paris the whole time?

“And do you have a preference for the area?” the woman
asked.

“We’d like a suite,” Megan added. “The nicest one available.
Actually, the most expensive hotel you can find.”

The woman tapped away on her computer. “I have two adjoining
suites available,” she said. “The price will be one thousand four hundred euros
per room per night. Will this be by credit card?”

I gulped. Holy shit. I couldn’t do that, especially since I
wasn’t one hundred percent certain of the credit card’s limit. I thought it was
fifty thousand, but with a few nights in a hotel like that we’d max it out in
no time- especially if we planned to do any shopping.

“Actually,” I decided, “we don’t need the most expensive
hotel available. We’d just like a big penthouse or two adjoining suites in a
very convenient area for shopping and sightseeing. We’d like to be able to walk
just about everywhere.”

The woman nodded briskly and tapped away at her computer
again. “I have a nice hotel for you here. It is a smaller boutique hotel, but
very luxurious. It is right here.” She turned the computer screen around and
tapped a spot on the map she’d pulled up. “Just off the Champs-Elysees. A very
short distance to the Seine and views of the Eiffel Tower. Five hundred euros
per room per night.”

I could hear the appreciative sighs from my friends. I felt
dazed myself. “We’ll take it,” I said authoritatively.

We all crammed together in a taxi to the hotel, giggling in
the backseat. We arrived at the hotel and were greeted by a man who offered to
take our bags upstairs to our room. The woman who checked us in offered us all
a complimentary glass of champagne. “Is this your first time visiting Paris?”
she asked. We nodded. “Bienvenue à Paris,” she smiled. “Here I have a map of
the city for you. This is our hotel.” She circled a spot on the map. “You will
find many things to do nearby. The Eiffel Tower is a very short walk away, and
to arrive at the Champs-Elysees and many designer shops you will simply walk
down the street in the opposite direction from the Tour Eiffel. If you have any
questions or wish for directions we are happy to help you.”

“Merci,” we all said together, just like we were back in
Madame Leblanc’s sophomore French class again. We walked upstairs to our rooms
in a daze. I still couldn’t quite believe we were here.

“Is this real life?” asked Becca once we were alone in our
suites. We stood in a small group by the door, gawking around us. There were
two king size beds in each room, along with a small divan in one room and a
table and chairs in the other. There was a balcony that joined the two rooms
together, with a small table and chairs so we could sit outside and enjoy a
drink.