Page 10 of The Forbidden Fling

He took one more look at her, head twitching as though expressing his distaste for her life choices, then leapt into the sky. He dove around the port, showboating his large wings before landing on a nearby bin to pull a stale bread bun from inside.

Faye opened her mouth to lecture the bird, knowing the bread would only bloat him and fill his stomach with empty calories, but the earth-shattering rumble of a horn made her cover her ears.

Fucking hell.

When the pain lowered to a bearable level, she aimed her gaze at the perpetrator. A small man with a full head of dark hair stood on the deck of a white catamaran. His face split into a full grin, and he waved at Faye. Some of her frustration dissipated, and she forced herself to wave back.

Then Carla appeared beside her.

Oh. He was waving at her. She ducked her head, heat warming her neck, and considered climbing into the nearby bin to let the birds feast on her instead.

“Here you go, sleepyhead.” Carla handed her a cup of fruit juice and nodded towards the catamaran. “Time to go.”

Faye’s excitement about her trip had long since evaporated, but Carla plucked her up by the elbow and steered her towards the boat, anyway.

Faye couldn’t admire the boat, which seemed far too large for transporting the two of them. She couldn’t chat either. As they chugged out of port, she pinned her gaze towards the horizon, the fierce wind and choppy motion of the boat doing little to calm the anxious knots in her stomach. The bright sunlight made the ache in her skull deepen and pulse. Once again, she wished for her broken sunglasses.

The boat slapped over the waves, and she leaned over the edge, prepared to vomit. Salty seawater sprayed in her mouth and wet her face. Her stomach surged.

Note to self: never drink wine again.

“Duarte, abranda!” Carla called to the captain, but the wind stole her words.

Footsteps clunked against the deck. More words Faye couldn’t hear. She clung to the railing, trying to keep her insides where they should be. Thankfully, the boat soon slowed. The thuds lessened. But her guts still swirled in circles. If I don’t puke, it’ll be a miracle.

After a few more minutes, with the boat humming along at a steady pace, Carla helped Faye sit. A chill washed over her cheeks, like the colour had been pulled right out of them. Her make-up must be ruined.

“Need these?” Carla asked, producing a pair of sunglasses shaped like pineapples. “You can borrow them.” They weren’t Faye’s style, looking like something David might keep in their dressing-up box, but she wasn’t in a position to be picky.

“Thank you,” she said, breathing with relief as the world darkened around her.

A seagull bombed overhead with a loud caw that sounded an awful lot like laughter.

“You haven’t touched your juice.” Carla lifted her cup. “It will help.”

“What is it?” Certain fruits gave her flare-ups, and after the beating she’d put her body through last night, she had to be careful. Not to mention Duarte’s speedy boat-ride testing her gag reflex.

“Mango. Fresh from the island.”

That should be fine. If only her stomach would stop spinning. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so she sucked on the straw, humming as the smooth liquid slid down her throat.

“Thanks. It’s kind of you to bring me this.” She chanced a look at Carla, relieved that the juice had stayed down. “I’m sorry again for missing the crossing.”

“No more apologising.” Carla wagged a finger, peering at Faye through her enormous sunglasses. “I should have warned you that Raul is a bad influence.” She shrugged, letting out a sigh. “But he does have the best hangover recipe.”

So she had been to see Raul. Interesting.

“What is this face?” Carla asked.

Oops. Faye dropped her eyebrows into a neutral expression, then took another sip of juice. “You two seemed close, that’s all.”

“Eh, nothing serious.” She waved her hand, the sea breeze tickling the loose strands from her ponytail. “He’s still young.”

Faye bristled at that comment. Lukas had said something similar when Molly ghosted her. ‘You’re young, you’ve plenty of time for love.’ As if the future held anything other than empty promises and vague platitudes.

Molly had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Their relationship had started online, like the others: fun, flirty, then a couple of dates. Texting and video calls to shrink the space between Manchester and London. And for a while, it had worked; Faye could keep her pain hidden. Then reality hit. Texting became silence. Calls went unanswered. Eventually, Molly became just another person Faye no longer spoke to, like her school friends. The worst thing was she couldn’t blame them; she hadn’t been a lot of fun to be around. But Molly vanishing without a reason hurt.

Faye could only blame herself. There was a pattern. The sicker she got, the more distant people became. Chronic disease scared people.