Malta with My Best Friend’s Dad by Flora Ferrari

Chapter One

Kelly

“You know I worry about you two,” Mom says, standing in the doorway of my bedroom with her arms crossed over her middle. She’s wearing her concern plain on her face. “I don’t want you getting into any trouble over there.”

“Mrs. J, honestly, we’re going to be fine.” Lena shoots Mom a smirk as she stuffs a fresh handful of clothes into her suitcase.

I giggle at the way my best friend packs, and I can’t help but think how good it is that she’s able to laugh, she’s able to enjoy herself, and let herself go after all she’s been through.

First, her Mom died when she was only nine years old, stricken down by lung cancer, a cruelty that couldn’t be stopped no matter how hard she cried. And then her dad – tall, handsome, rugged Kane – went missing just three years ago.

I try not to let myself think about Kane Konstantinov too much because my mind always goes to steamy and unfair places. Lena has enough to deal with without me pining over her six and a half foot tall ex-Army dad, with his gleaming silver hair and his stark blue eyes.

Crushing on him was my biggest hobby growing up, and every time I practiced singing – in my room, in the park – I always imagined I was singing for him.

Guilt twists through me.

What would Lena say if she knew how badly I’d crushed on her father, especially after he went missing?

I can’t tell her, ever.

Mom paces across the room and stares at Lena.

They could be mother and daughter as they gaze at each other. Lena and Mom are both thin, tall, with sculpted features. The only difference is Lena wears her hair up in a tight black ponytail, whereas Mom lets her brown locks spill down to her shoulders.

I try not to let my mind dance off to unhelpful places as I study the two women, try not to curse myself that I didn’t inherit Tamara Jones’ genes. I’m more like my dad in build, wider and stockier and less wraith-like.

Telling myself I don’t care doesn’t really work.

Even if Kane Konstantinov had stayed around long enough to see me become a woman, he never would’ve looked twice at me. Nobody looks at me like that, so I don’t know why I’d ever think the man of my dreams would be any different.

Stop it,I cry out in my mind.

I should think about how good is it that Mom and Dad have let Lena stay here since Kane went missing. I should focus on hoping that Kane returns, yes, but not for me, never for me. For my best friend.

“Do you call that packing?” Mom laughs. “You’re not going to have enough to wear at this rate, young lady. Have you ever heard of folding?”

Lena grins and warmth shimmers in my chest. I love how close they’ve become ever since Lena moved in, finding refuge in my home when hers was shattered into a million pieces.

Where are you, Kane? Where did you go?

“We’re only there for two weeks,” Lena says. “If I run out of clothes, I’ll just traipse around in my underwear.”

“Can you believe her?” Mom says, turning to me with a smile.

I push away my stampeding thoughts and return her smile, shaking my head with a giggle. “Yes, yes I can. She’s been like this ever since we were kids. But if you look at my suitcase, you’ll find a picture of perfect order.”

“I raised you right,” Mom says, with another of her wicked grins.

Then she flinches and turns to Lena. Lena’s smile has dropped.

For a second, I wonder what she’s thinking. And then it hits me.

Mom raised me right. But the person who raised Lena isn’t here anymore. We have no idea where he is. He could be dead.

My belly twists and my mind riot at the thought of Kane being dead, of my man being dead…

No, no, no.

Just because I wrote ‘I love Kane Konstantinov’ in my diary over and over again, and just because I wished and prayed for it to be true, it doesn’t mean he’d ever want me.

“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine.” Lena waves a hand. “Honestly, it’s just the last time I went on vacation abroad, it was with Dad. I guess this trip is sort of bringing it all back. Three years. You think I’d be over it by now.”

“Lena.” I walk over to her, placing my hand on her shoulder. “You’re allowed to feel what you want for as long as you want. You don’t have to get over it, or just deal with it, or anything. Kay?”

She reaches up and touches my hand, squeezing softly. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

I try my best to smile at her, try my best to convince myself I don’t sometimes dream about her father. But it’s a lie, a dirty rotten stinking lie, because almost every night he’s there, watching me from inside my mind.

Vignettes assail me constantly, taken from before he went missing, of him pulling himself out of the pool and the water dripping down his hard muscled body, honed from years in the Army and then his work at the gym. I remember the way his eyes would pass over me like I wasn’t even there, and how I’d wish for them to settle on me for just a moment.

Of course, they never would.

I was seventeen when he disappeared. He was thirty-nine. But he’s forty-two now – at least if he’s not dead – and I’m twenty. Mom and Dad have an age gap of twenty years and they met when she was around my age.

Maybe we could be the same.

“Let’s focus on the good stuff.” Lena grins, stuffing another handful of clothes into the suitcase. “Like how you’re going to stand on top of our Medina apartment and serenade the whole silent city.”

My tourist guidebook tells me the old hilltop city – with a population of only about three hundred – is called the silent city because they have strict noise pollution laws there. It’s a beautiful place, with yellow stone buildings looking down upon the village of Rabat, glittering brightly in the guidebook.

“It wouldn’t be very silent then, would it? Plus I don’t want to get us kicked out.”

“I’m going to get us kicked out then,” Lena declares. “I’m going to type so loudly they send in the cavalry to drag me out.”

I giggle and shake my head. She’s always been able to make me laugh, no matter what’s happening, no matter what crazy avenues my thoughts are dancing down.

“Make sure you do some sightseeing too,” Mom says. “And some sunbathing. You know, normal touristy things.”

“We will,” I say. “But you know Lena. If she goes two days without writing she turns into a madwoman.”

“Turns into?” Lena giggles. “I’m always a madwoman, Kelly. I just hide it well. Anyway, this is a work trip as well as a holiday.”

I nod, pride blooming in my chest. Lena is the same age as me, and yet she’s already landed a contract with a publisher for her second romance novel. Her first was set in Miami, a sexy sun-fueled adventure that had me tearing through the pages, and she’s decided to set her next in Malta after reading all about it on the internet.

“You’re just going to keep setting your books in more and more exotic places, aren’t you?” I tease her. “Just so you can have an excuse to go there.”

“Well, duh. I think maybe I’ll do Fiji next or Majorca.”

I shake my head, stunned at the love and support moving through me. There’s no resentment nestled within, which is a constant source of amazement for some. She’s much further along in her dreams of being a writer than I am in my singing career, but she’s my friend, my best friend, and I don’t begrudge her a single second of it.

“What are you going to do if Lena becomes a writing machine?” Mom asks, turning to me.

“Oh, there’s loads to do and see there.”

I smile as I think about having two weeks free of my waitressing job, especially since I’ve been working double shifts to save for this vacation. Mom and Dad said they’d happily pay for it, but I wanted to do it myself, to prove to them – and myself – that I could be a proper grownup.

Because when Kane returns, he’s going to want a woman, self-sufficient and mature, not a silly little girl.

I stomp on that thought.

“I want to see Valetta,” I murmur. “Apparently when you stand at the top, you can see right down to the ocean. They designed it that way so it was easier to spot invading ships.”

I don’t mention the ships invading my heart, every second of every day when I think about my best friend’s dad.