Page 28 of One Week in Paradise

The sky above London is overcast and grey, but I still feel like I’ve got the warmth of the Jamaican sun on me as Cash and I drag our suitcases through the busy airport.

I remember how I felt just seven days ago.

How nervous and anxious I was to approach the check-in counter, not even entirely sure that Cash would be there waiting for me.

I remember how certain I was that Cash couldn’t stand me, that I was his absolute least favourite person in the entire world and that he was doing this only as a favour to Dane.

And now here he is, standing by my side, and he’s not going anywhere.

I’m his, and he’s mine.

The thought brings a smile to my lips, which immediately disappears as I spot a head of familiar blonde hair in front of me.

True to her word, Penelope kept Lacey and Danny away from the rest of us for the last few hours of the trip.

I’d assumed they’d been put on an earlier flight as they didn’t even leave the resort with us, but I can see Lacey stomping ahead of us now, a fierce scowl fixed on her face.

Danny is nowhere to be seen, and that annoying twinge of guilt stirs up in me again.

‘Don’t worry about her,’ says Cash, as if he can read my thoughts.

‘Is it weird that I feel bad for her?’

‘No. Not for you,’ he says. ‘You’re a good person. Me, on the other hand…’ He trails off ominously, and I can’t stop the snort of laughter that erupts from me. ‘I’m just saying,’ he continues. ‘Not everyone deserves your sympathy.’

He’s right. Lacey doesn’t deserve it. She refused to give me even an inch of grace, deciding to push forward with her warped idea of me instead. Why do I owe her anything else?

I hold my head high as we pass her in the crowd and successfully resist the urge to turn around and see if she’s noticed us.

We make our way to the taxi rank, and as we wait in the queue for one to become available, I pull out my phone. I’ve got a bunch of notifications from Instagram, but I don’t click on them just yet. Instead, I open up my chat with Amber.

AMBER

Have you landed yet?

EXCUSE ME HAVE YOU LANDED YET???

omg don’t make me get on a train to Gatwick to find out myself

BAILEY! ARE YOU HOME??

I press the FaceTime button, and within seconds her smiling face fills the screen.

‘You’re home!’ she says, her voice a half-whisper. ‘How was the flight?’

‘Not too bad,’ I say. ‘Where are you?’ I know she’s only been living in her new place for a couple of weeks, but this definitely doesn’t look like the bedroom she’s sent videos of. It’s darker, bigger, and— My eyes widen as a muscled arm suddenly drapes over her front. ‘ Amber .’

She bites her lip to smother the giggle that’s desperate to come out. ‘Yeah. I need to update you on some developments .’ Then it’s her turn for her eyes to widen as Cash pops his head over my shoulder. ‘Seems like you do too?’ She nods at Cash. ‘Caspian.’

Cash nods back, lips twitching in amusement. ‘Amber.’

Before I can say anything, the owner of the muscled arm around her waist groans and tries to pull her over to his side of the bed. Amber shoots me a wink. ‘We’ll talk later.’

‘Who was that with her?’ Cash asks, sounding amused.

‘Pretty sure that’s Asshole Client,’ I tell him. ‘Also known as Stupidly Handsome Dickhead.’

He laughs at the nicknames. ‘Ouch.’

A taxi soon arrives for us, and we climb into it. Cash immediately relays my parents’ address to the driver, and then we’re off, hurtling down the motorway and heading back to reality.

Returning to my parents’ house after all this doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.

I don’t feel like I’m returning as a failure.

I’ve got an idea of where I want my career to go, and I know how I want to get there.

It might take a while, but I’ll get there.

This is just a temporary stop for me now, and the light at the end of the tunnel is a little easier to see.

I pull out my phone again and launch Instagram. Just the few snippets of the trip I’ve already posted have done wonders for my engagement levels.

I’m sitting at 235,456 followers, and my numbers are still steadily climbing. I feel a sense of hope that I’ve not felt towards my job during these last few months. It’s going to be a rocky road, but I’m confident that I can do it.

This is what I do, and I’m good at it.

I no longer feel that familiar bubble of anxiety in the pit of my stomach as I open up my camera roll and choose a handful of photos to post.

‘How about one of these?’ I show Cash my phone and swipe across to one of the photos we took the night of our candlelit dinner on the beach.

I’d assumed that none of the photos had turned out well because I didn’t get the kiss I was gunning for, but I’m left pleasantly surprised.

In the one I’ve chosen, I’m smiling at the camera, but Cash’s head is tilted downwards, and he’s staring directly at me.

Even in the low light, the sunset behind us covering us in a pinkish-purple glow, I can see want in his eyes.

I swipe to the next photo. In this one, we’re both looking at each other, and there’s something heartbreakingly fragile in our gaze. Like, in that moment, we both know we’re on the precipice of something huge, but we’re both too scared to take the next step.

I’m so glad that we did.

‘Seeing you in that dress again…’ Cash shifts in his seat, subtly trying to adjust himself.

He swallows, and when he looks at me, I see that want reflected in his eyes again.

His hand comes up to rest on my knee, and even through the thick fabric of my sweatpants, his touch leaves a scorching wake.

I reflexively glance forward and meet the taxi driver’s eyes in the rear view mirror for half a second before he darts his gaze away.

I put my hand over Cash’s and give him a squeeze. ‘Not now,’ I murmur.

Cash makes an irritated sound low in his throat but nods in agreement.

He leans down and steals a kiss. It’s hot, his tongue darting past my lips to caress my own, and filled with the promise of more to come.

When we reluctantly pull away, he keeps his hand on my knee and turns his attention back to my phone. ‘Post that one.’

He chooses the one where we’re both looking at each other, and I agree.

I scan through the rest of my camera roll and choose a handful of photos and videos to post. Cash features heavily in most of them, and so do the others.

I purposely chose the selfie we took together in the bathroom that first night.

Bea, Meera and Sara are squashed up beside me, wide grins tugging at their lips as we all pose for the camera.

Looking at it now, you’d never be able to tell that I was in such a terrible state only minutes before the photo was taken.

I pool my selection of photos into one carousel post and make the photo of Cash and me the first one. I tag everyone in the photos, including Cash, and then type a quick caption.

Jamaica Seven days can change your life

And then I hit post .