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But girls, they wanna have fun
I instantly picture Callum’s face.
His jaw set, green eyes ablaze.
God, I hope Freya and I can keep this under wraps.
A second thought creeps in, one about his protection. What kind of father would he be? Providing for his wee ones at all costs, protecting those bairns with his very life.
I love my father, but there was more than one time he came home drunk, and we were hungry, and I couldn't stop myself from thinking spiteful thoughts.
How hard is it to put food on the table?
Shaking the memory from my mind, I gulp down the rest of my drink, placing the empty glass on a table, and lose myself in the music.
Callum’s family will want for nothing.
His wife will want for nothing, as well. He’s made that clear. I’m not even his wife, just a figment of his imagination, his imaginary bride-to-be, and he’s more than taken care of my every need.
My every want.
Happy to protect me.
A bit of guilt comes to me, sneaking out like this. I think of all the horror stories about the city that swirled around the island. We’d be worried sick if our friends turned up missing.
If he finds us missing from our rooms…he’ll be beside himself. And I’d feel terrible about that.
“Freya,” I say, tugging on her arm. I raise my voice to be heard over the music. “Freya. Should we call Callum and let him know where we are?”
“Don’t be silly! I’ve taken care of it. Chef’s got him worrying over a menu. We’ve got at least another hour before Chef lets him free.”
“What menu,” I ask, already knowing the only menu that would take Callum’s attention away long enough for her to feel confident we could stay out tonight.
“Wedding menu.” She flashes me a grin. “But don’t worry. We can use it for a party or something if you decide not to marry my brother.”
One of her friends throws an arm around my shoulders, shouting with an American accent. “You’d be crazy not to marry Callum! He’s sooo HAWT!”
Another one says, “Freya tried to set me up with him but he wassnae interested. Freya said there was someone from home who’d caught his eye.”
“Oh,” I say, “that was me.”
“I know, silly!” The woman laughs.
I smile, feeling a wave of warmth in my chest. Freya must have told her colleagues all about me. I look around at the group of women, their faces lit up in excitement and joy.
It's been a while since I felt this happy and carefree. I’ve missed having the company of women. My last good times were with the girls at the research center over the summers. We worked by the shore during the day, huddled at the lodge together at night, drinking martinis and watching Sex and the City.
“Rock the Boat” starts playing, and the whole group starts singing again. Carol Ann’s Irish cousins visited the island once for a family wedding. They taught us a fun dance to this song. Now, I show the steps to our group, bumping hips with them, then creating lines of people sitting on the floor in “boats,” rocking our bodies together as we row. The girls with us mimic my actions, quickly learning the steps.
More people gather around, asking about the steps, and soon, the entire dance floor joins in.
When the song ends, the crowd shouts, “Again! Again!”
The DJ replays the song, turning up the volume. We laugh and shout, enjoying every moment, caught up in the magic of the night. Looking around in awe at all the people dancing along with us, I can barely believe I was the one brave enough to start the trend.
As the party goes on, Freya never left my side. I feel grateful for her friendship and trust. She's been there for me in a way that makes me think of her more as a sister than a friend.
The night winds down, and girls leave in groups or pairs to go home by car. My clothing sticks to my skin, damp with sweat. Fresh air sounds lovely after being in the stuffy club.
