Page 46 of What Did I Miss?

‘How are you feeling?’ Beau asks for the fifth time since they landed at Denpasar International Airport.

He hovers to her right and Imogen’s on her left, sandwiching Makayla as she drags her feet through all the checkpoints.

‘I’m fine.’ Makayla yawns in a groggy daze.

Sleeping tablets worked a treat. Now she won’t have to hit send on the draft text she wrote to Rongo, apologising for missing his wedding.

The air inside the building is thick and sticky.

Passengers come and go at a dizzying pace.

Those in sleek business attire ignore the signs, knowing exactly where they’re heading.

Families slow the flow, tending to young children who grizzle in the suffocating heat.

A group of women who’d been on the same flight draw attention from security with their non-stop giggling and obvious swaying.

The red-headed leader wears a custom-made Just Divorced tee and her loyal followers have Divorce Support Crew sewn across theirs.

Cece and Jimmy amble behind like zombies. Makayla slept for the entire flight, but Tilly didn’t. Apparently, the toddler screamed until the plane landed, which explains the filthy looks they got when disembarking. Cocktails by the pool shortly should help suppress their trauma.

People swarm to the baggage claim, keeping a close eye on their belongings. Makayla is the only one in their group who splurged on the wrapping service. That doesn’t stop her heart racing when a sniffer dog lingers by her ankles.

The carousel squeaks, churning out luggage until it’s empty and turned off. Everyone has their suitcases, except for Makayla. That doesn’t make sense. She checked hers in at the same time as Beau and Imogen. It should be here. That’ll teach her to fly with Jokester.

A man with a surly expression who reeks of damp tobacco points her to a help desk. The line snakes on forever and moves slower than a long school term.

Tilly hurls Mr Bunny across the floor before throwing herself onto it. She lies on her back, wailing and kicking and making her presence known to anyone within a one-kilometre radius. Cece offers a lollipop to coax her into their travel pram, but Tilly thrashes about, refusing to be trapped.

‘Why don’t you all go ahead and I’ll meet you at the villa?’ Makayla suggests.

‘Thank you,’ Cece says, wistfully eyeing the exit. ‘

‘I’m not leaving you alone in a foreign country,’ Beau says.

‘Foreign?’ Makayla waves her hand around.

Every second person is sporting a dirty mullet or Havaianas … or both. They speak with a nasal twang, elongating vowels and dropping Rs.

‘I’ll be fine. I’m practically fluent in Indonesian.’ Should she show him her fifteen-day streak on Duolingo? He might stop fretting if he sees all the daily rewards she’s claimed. Gems and treasure chests galore. ‘Translating for you will slow me down.’ She nudges him until he relents.

‘Call me if anything goes wrong.’ He uses his dad voice.

‘ Sampai berjumpa lagi! ’ She bids him farewell.

Time apart will do them good. Their relationship status discussion is going to happen any day now, and she still hasn’t arrived at a conclusion.

While waiting in the queue, sweat dribbles out of the frayed hem of her denim shorts.

Not a single person who’s been attended to has walked away wearing a smile.

Fists beat down on the desk, warranting the bulletproof glass that protects the young woman behind it.

Jet lag and lost luggage bring out the worst in people.

Makayla makes it to the front and flashes the biggest grin she can muster to distinguish herself from the other rude tourists. Once she exhausts a list of local greetings, demonstrates her knowledge of fruit names and proves she can order water and rice, they stick to English.

‘I’m sorry, Miss Anderson. Your bag never made it onto the plane.’

After an hour-long wait, Makayla’s beyond caring. She provides her details, leaving it in the hands of the travel gods. If that’s the worst thing to go wrong, she’ll take it. Bali, here I come .

Speak in another language ?

Travel ?

Makayla rides the holiday high all the way to a bohemian villa in Canggu – the new Seminyak, whatever that means. Her luggage woes long forgotten as she’s seduced by dancing palm trees and a gentle breeze carrying the salty ocean air.

Their rooms are styled with a neutral palette that blends seamlessly into the surroundings. They’re all perfectly positioned to have their glass double doors open up to a glistening pool, calling Makayla’s name.

Cece swans around in a strategically tied sarong with a frangipani tucked behind her ear. ‘Any luck with your luggage?’

‘Apparently, it’s gone rogue. They said they’ll contact me if it shows up.’

The gang is unanimous on their party line: ‘Don’t let this ruin your trip’.

Beau, shirtless and broad, just the way she likes him, hands over a bottle of ice-cold Bintang. Makayla presses it to her forehead, letting the condensation soothe her body and ease her mind.

‘I might have a quick swim. Does anyone mind if I skinny dip?’ She’ll be ticking it off at some point.

‘Not at all. In fact, I insist.’ Beau points at the calm waters.

‘Makayla, there’s a child here,’ Imogen hisses. ‘I packed five bikinis. You can borrow one.’

It’s funny Imogen’s concerned about robbing children of their innocence when her swimwear options leave so little to the imagination. Makayla passes on four of them, including the one with triangle cut-outs. With her luck, she’d end up with a geometric sunburn.

Imogen leaves the bedroom, giving Makayla some privacy to change into a plunge-neck swimsuit she doesn’t have the bust for.

‘Knock, knock.’ Cece enters, squeezing one eye shut. ‘Whoa! I’ve never seen you in colour, Wednesday Addams.’ Her fingertips glide over the tropical floral print.

Cece flops forward onto the bed, propping herself up on her elbows like she’s hungry for some girl chat. A fan whirrs overhead, dicing through the unbearable mugginess. They exhale simultaneously, acclimatising to the temperature.

‘Did you and Beau have time to talk at the airport before Imogen arrived?’ Cece asks.

‘Not exactly. I won’t worry about that for a few days. Right now, there’s another important matter to deal with.’

‘Right. Your luggage.’

‘Nope. The list,’ Makayla says in earnest.

‘Arrgh!’ Cece flings a pillow at her.

‘What was that for?’ Makayla picks up the assault weapon and uses it as a shield as more brick-like pillows fly at her head. Looks like Tilly’s not the only one having tantrums today.

‘I love you, but …’ Cece starts.

Oh dear. This can’t be good.

‘The list has to stop. I’ll admit, I encouraged you at the start because you needed a project to put all your post-divorce energy into, but now you have Beau.’ Cece sings his name.

‘Firstly, you’re the worst accountability coach ever, and secondly, why give up when I’ve only got two more things to tick off? Holiday hook-up and skinny dipping. Have you ever known me to be a quitter?’

‘No.’ Cece groans as though recalling the escape room incident. Makayla had to be escorted out because she refused to leave without solving the clue. ‘We all know who you’ll be hooking up with on this holiday. It’s only a matter of days before you and Beau become an item.’

‘Yeah, about that,’ Makayla whispers. Beau’s hut is next door, and she can’t see him lazing by the pool anymore.

‘I was married my entire adult life and then what? Bam! The first man I catch feelings for, I jump into a serious relationship with. That’s ridiculous.

If we met a few years down the track, maybe things would be different. ’

‘But you didn’t. You met him now, and a year or two doesn’t matter. There are no rules around how long you have to be single for.’

Actually, there are. If she wants to get her hands on Gertie, she has to wait another two weeks. The secret agreement eats at her insides, but she can’t tell Cece or Beau. They wouldn’t understand her need for closure, or her ache to belong to the club.

Cece rolls off the bed and twists Makayla around to stare deep into her eyes. Her serious face is unnerving. Where did Pollyanna go?

‘You’re scared,’ Cece states.

Makayla crumbles under her friend’s penetrating gaze.

‘Of course I am. What if he doesn’t choose me?’

Beau returns to the pool with Tilly, who’s changed into pastel-striped swimmers that match her parents’. He throws her into the air and catches her well before she splashes the surface. Their squeals are like a joyous melody.

‘Or what if he chooses me and later on, we break up? Then I’ll have wasted his time when he could have been with someone who will give him what he wants. What if—’

‘What if it works out?’ Cece places her hands on top of Makayla’s shoulders, anchoring her.

‘It won’t. We’ll let each other down, eventually.’

A cry of ‘Mama’ summons Cece outside. She opens the double doors, bringing in a refreshing coastal breeze. The afternoon sunlight casts a glow around her curvy silhouette. Cece stands tall – as tall as a short person can – and turns back to have the last word.

‘Stop punishing him for what Warren did and stop punishing yourself. You’re allowed to be happy.’

The group is heading out for the evening to have dinner at Rongo and Noa’s resort.

On the website, it’s postcard perfect with a grand entrance, nine pools and swim-up bars.

Makayla’s grateful to be staying in a villa instead.

Much easier to deal with five people than five hundred vying for a sun lounger.

Embracing the inevitable frizziness, Makayla scrunches her hair to create a messy grunge look. Her fringe cooperates, a sign of good things ahead. She’s putting her man troubles on hold and is ready to discover why people fall in love with Bali.

Imogen lent her a dress that’s shorter and tighter than anything she’s ever worn. Her stomach aches as it digs in. She places a hand below her bellybutton as a cramp ripples across it. What was that?