*

Waiting for check-in to open, I read every post on Facebook and Instagram, every tweet in my feed, refreshing twice, unsubscribed from two newsletters, and started a novel on my Kindle app.

I also had a lengthy texting session with my sister. As (bloody, stupid, frigging) luck would have it, she was actually in Sydney—and she hadn’t come alone. Since I’d visited her in London, Cat had gone and got herself all loved up.

Yep! My sister, Cat—sworn to be single ’til the day she died—had a boyfriend.

Actually, I knew Jean-Luc—my whole family did. He’d been an exchange student in Sydney the year he and Cat turned fifteen. They’d been really close back then—best friends—and when he returned to France, they’d written every week for years. It had all gone pear-shaped because her jealous idiot of an ex told her not to write to Jean-Luc anymore—and she’d complied.

Anyway, long story short—too late!—they lost touch over the years and as fate would have it, she literally ran into him when she was in Paris a few months ago. They reconnected and have been going back and forth between Paris and London for the past few months. And now they were in Sydney for the holidays.

When she’d told me they were coming, it was one of the best surprises of my life but, of course, their trip to Australia overlapped with my trip to Hawaii.

I’d agonised over cancelling my trip with Josh—or at least postponing my arrival in Hawaii—but, knowing how much I missed Josh, Cat had insisted I keep my plans. That meant we’d only had a couple of days together—Christmas and Boxing Day— but we’d squeezed the most out of that time, and it was easily the best Christmas I’ve ever had.

And to see Cat so happy with Jean-Luc—okay, this is going to sound ridiculously corny—that was the real Christmas present.

They were perfect for each other. He brought out her more vulnerable, gentler side, and I loved seeing her be that Cat, the one she usually reserved for me. And even though he was now a grown man of thirty-five, Jean-Luc was, at heart, the same person who had fit so easily into our family all those years ago. It was like having a long-lost family member back in the fold. Besides, anyone who could make Cat’s face light up with joy just by looking at her, was a keeper.

Waiting in line, I also replied to a passive-aggressive “bon voyage” text from my mother who was miffed that I was missing the traditional family New Year’s Day barbecue. I sent her lots of kissy smiley faces and told her to send my love to everyone. Going to Hawaii was way more appealing than fielding questions from my relatives about why I was still single at thirty-seven.

If only they knew!

Eventually, airline agents appeared behind the counter and I was called over by a smiling young woman. At the counter I lifted my suitcase onto the scale—a suitcase, not a backpack, this time. I was a civilised person going on holiday, rather than a traveller roughing it on a boat. I had no illusions about this trip. It was going to be on the beaten track and replete with poolside cocktails, pricey excursions, and maybe even a spa day. This gal was on HOL-I-DAY!