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“That sounds good to me,” I say. He kisses me one more time on my forehead and then disappears through the door, rushing back down the stairs.
“I’ll book the honeymoon before I leave!” he calls back up to me as he goes, and I smile.
It was all coming together.
Maybe I had enough time to take just one more peek at my dress before I continued with my half of the arrangements.
EPILOGUE
TWO MONTHS LATER
Finlay
I check our passports and tickets for the fifteenth time since I have nothing else to do.
I’ve been ready for ages. It’s Alana who seems to have slowed down to the pace of a snail while we prepare to catch our flight home.
“Honey,” I call out, trying not to sound too impatient. “Are you ready? I don’t really think it matters if your makeup is perfect for the flight. And you know you’re beautiful without it anyway.”
There is a pause, and then Alana hurries toward me, emerging from the bathroom at the other end of our suite.
“Sorry!” she calls out. Curiously, she doesn’t actually seem to be wearing any makeup. “Sorry. I’m ready to go now.”
“Are you alright?” I ask, looking at her closely. She looks a bit pale now that I think about it.
Something is going on, I just can’t put my finger on what.
“I’m fine,” she says with a brief smile. “I just felt a little ill. I’m sure it’s just nerves about flying home. You know I really enjoyed it here.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry,” I say, leaning over to kiss her forehead. It felt clammy under my lips, which made me frown a little. “We’ll be fine. We’ve got plenty of time to get to the airport, and we’ll have just as much fun when we get back home. We’ve got the rest of our lives to settle into. And if something doesn’t work, we’ll just change it.”
“Yeah,” Alana says, giving me what looks like a brave smile.
Something definitely isn’t right.
“Are you sure it’s just nerves?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Alana says, making a shooing motion toward the door. “Now, come on – let’s – let’s…uh….”
She pales further, then turns around and dashes toward the bathroom.
I drop my suitcase and rush after her. I’m close enough to the door to hear the sound of her throwing up as soon as she gets there.
“Alana?” I call out again. I’m getting really worried now – both about the fact that she is sick and that she tried to pretend like it’s nothing.
Of course, it isn’t nothing. You don’t just throw up for no reason. Something has to be causing it. Something is going on here. I’m sure of it.
“I’m alright,” she calls back weakly. “I just can’t seem to get my stomach to settle.”
I push the door open to see her kneeling over the toilet, holding her hair back in one hand. I bend to hold it for her, stroking the side of her face as much as I can reach in the cramped space.
“Are you feeling a little steadier, or do you need to stay here for a while?”
“I don’t know.” Alana pauses. “Maybe some dry crackers and water will help.”
“I’ll dash out to the store and get them,” I tell her. “I’ll bring you a glass of water in the meantime, okay?”
“No, no, we’ll be late,” Alana says. She pauses, breathing in deeply. “I’ll come with you to the store. As soon as I get them in my stomach, that should help.”
