DELAYED
The same stark message appeared on all the flights shown on the departure boards at Amsterdam Airport Schiphol. I blinked as I tried to process the fact that the return flight to London was delayed, meaning that Sophie was not going to be happy. Not in the slightest. Turning to glare at the men that forced me onto a plane a few days ago, I feel the rage bubbling up inside me.
"Well, it could be worse," my brother says, shrugging his shoulder casually, like getting stuck in the Netherlands is not a big deal. "I'm sure they'll reschedule it soon. Just wait, a couple of hours and we'll be back in London."
Closing my eyes tightly, I feel my fists ball up as I try to control the anger threatening to spill out. "It could be worse?" My words come out in a quiet rage. "Reschedule? A couple of hours?"
I knew my voice was gradually getting louder and angrier, but it wasn't until Michael and Fletch took a step forward to shield Samuel that I realised I had advanced on my brother with a deathly glare held within my eyes. Elias, meanwhile, was stood to the side, phone in hand as he text Jenna to let her know about our change in circumstances.
"Samuel," I say my brother's name in the calmest tone possible. Which, under the circumstances, probably isn't all that calm. "I missed mine and Sophie's meeting with our wedding planner. We missed our dinner date with Jasmine and Sophie. Our flights are delayed. I am stuck in Amster-fucking-dam!"
Considering I'm not the biggest fan of swearing- before Sophie came into my life, I very rarely cursed- my brother and friends all took note of the fact that I dropped the f-bomb. Slumping against the nearest wall, I slide down until I'm sat on the floor, legs stretched out in front of me. Granted, this week had been fun- at times- but right now, I just wanted to get home, get on my knees, and beg Sophie for forgiveness.
Being away from Sophie doesn't get easier. All those months when she was away in New York, I was lost. Back then, though, we had our daily phone calls to keep me sane, as well as random visits to one another. During this past week, however, Soph and I didn't even have our calls. We had shouty conversations, answer phone messages, and Samuel coming in between us. This was not how I wanted my stag party to go.
In fact, not even everyone I wanted was here. Yes, my brother was here, Elias was here, Michael and Fletch were here too, but where was Lucas? Where was Jimmy Delaney? Adam D'Souza? Where was my brother-in-law, Alistair? Even Hugo would have loved coming here with us. The more I thought about it all, this trip to Amsterdam was just an excuse for Samuel to relive his playboy days before Jasmine came into his life and he got tied down with a fiancée. For Elias and I, both happily settled with women we love, this Boys Tour had been what Americans might call a Frat Party.
I was dressed as a Roman one evening, a chicken another, and then on Friday, the guys decided that it would be hilarious if they forced me to dress in drag and took me to some of the notorious bars in the risqué districts of the city. Fletch very much enjoyed that evening, but Elias and I felt like grandpas in comparison to him, Michael, and Samuel.
"Ok," Elias spoke up, placing his phone into the front pocket of his jeans. "So, I've got a plan. Well, the girls back home came up with it, but let's just all pretend that I am the mastermind behind it."
We all look to Elias expectantly, but it's Fletch that's the first to question it. "What is the plan?"
"Basically," Elias took a deep breath before he announced how the women back in London had planned to rescue us. "Sophie's dad is sending his private jet to pick us up and take us back to Biggin Hill. That's the upside of the plan."
"What's the downside?" Michael asked, his eyes narrowing on Elias.
"Yeah, that's the thing," Elias said slowly, elongating each syllable. He brushed his sweaty palms against his t-shirt before planting his hands on his hips and hanging his head in shame. "The, uh, girls will be meeting us at the airport so they can take us home."
Just when I thought that this whole scenario couldn't get any worse, it gets a million times worse. Yes, we'd finally be getting home, but when we'd have angry wives, fiancées, and girlfriends waiting for us on the other side, I think being stranded in Amsterdam is the best of two evils. Perhaps we could get the captain of the private jet to detour to Australia. I think that may be far away enough to stop Sophie from losing her shit with us when we get back.
Actually, Australia is too civilised. There are shops there, warm weather, and cell phone reception there. No, maybe diverting to Antarctica would be better.
"Just to check," Samuel spoke, his voice filled with worry. Slowly letting my eyes move up to look at my brother, I see that his face is panicked and his stance makes it look like he's about to take flight. And it's not the same flight the rest of us is about to take. "Elias, when you say that the women are meeting us on the other side, who exactly do you mean? Is it just Jenna, or everyone?"
Elias swallowed audibly. "Jenna, Sophie, Jasmine, Cleo-" Michael's flavour of the month- "And Charlotte will be meeting us."
"Charlotte?" Fletch asked, seeming a lot more interested than he should. "I take it she's there for me, huh?"
"No, I think that's more for Jimmy," Elias answered. Noticing my confused face, he elaborates. "Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that bit, huh? Well, the only way we could get Jimmy to agree to come and get us was by letting him- physically- come and get us."
Knowing that we were finally about to leave, Elias held out his hand for me to take so that he could pick me up from the floor, motioned for us all to grab our luggage and then stalked his way through the thick crowd. The rest of us followed in a line, politely apologising to anyone we happened to bump into as we made our way to the customer enquiry desk.
Using his Dutch phrasebook, Elias attempted to speak with the petite woman behind the desk in her native language but failed at pronouncing most of the words correctly. Even though I didn't know any Dutch, I'm pretty sure that Elias knew less than me. Thankfully, the woman smiled politely at us all and offered to speak in English. Noticing the smile, and the fact that the woman was undeniably pretty, Fletch stepped forward and pushed Elias aside.
"Isaac Fletcher," he introduced himself with a dashing smile. "Australian and very much single."
Rolling his eyes, Elias shook his head and placed a hand over Fletch's face to push him out of the way. "Ignore him," Elias said to the woman, motioning his head to Fletch, who was now stood at the very back, behind Michael, Samuel and I. "We have a chartered flight coming for us in a few hours but we have no idea where we need to go."
For the next fifteen minutes, the woman- Sanne- explained the whole process, sending us to a private area of the airport where a portly man checked our passports against the details that Biggin Hill had sent through. After an hour of checks, our luggage being taken, and being shown to a waiting area away from the main runway terminal, the guys and I were finally a step closer to being back home.
"Plane," another man in a thick Dutch accent said to us, pointing at the jet that was on the runway.
The jet door opened and the men on the ground began to rush around, refuelling the plane while an airport official checked the flight plan and the passenger list. Gathering our on-board luggage, I began to walk towards the plane, pausing when I saw Jimmy Delaney stride down the steps and onto the tarmac. Suddenly feeling as if Amsterdam wasn't all that bad, I spin in my place and attempt to return to the confines of the airport.
"You!" Jimmy's familiar Irish lilt shouted, I assume, at me. Stopping dead in my tracks, I slowly turned and decided to face my soon-to-be father-in-law like a man. I'd hold my head up high, not let it show that I am well and truly intimidated by Jimmy Delaney, and take the talking-to without complaint. "Wha' de feck d'ya tink ya'wa doon?"
Roughly translated, I think what he was trying to say was: What the fuck did you think you were doing?
I was fully prepared to answer this question. In fact, I had practiced my response time and again over the past few days, getting it down to an art. My brother made me do it. I think it was a perfectly accurate reply, too. Thankfully, Jimmy's anger wasn't directed at me, but rather at Samuel.
"Hey, Mr D," Samuel beamed. Taking a step forward, my brother patted his hand on Jimmy's shoulder in a friendly gesture, like this was normal, and nodded at the jet. "Thanks for coming to get us. We were starting to think we'd be stranded here. Guess it's a good job you're a billionaire, huh? So, are we ready to take this show back to London, or what?"
That's the thing about my brother- he's a twat. This very sentiment summed up Samuel to a tee, not that he cared. To anyone else, speaking like this to the man that was saving our arses would be a big no-no. To Samuel, however, it seemed perfectly reasonable and normal. Witnessing it made me cringe, shuddering with how my brother's attitude would reflect on me. Winning over Sophie's family had been a marathon, not a sprint, and my brother was threatening to trip me up in the home stretch. If I could have reached out to smack him upside the head, I would have. Unfortunately, he was striding ahead and skipping up the steps as he boarded the plane, swiftly followed by the other three men that had kidnapped me.
I cleared my throat, readying myself to apologise on behalf of Samuel, when Jimmy's blue gaze shifted onto me. "Well, at least my daughter had the sense to marry the normal brother," he noted. When he saw me gulp, Jimmy's lips turned upwards into a wry smile and he nodded towards the plane. "Let's get you home, son, before Sophie completely loses her mind."
I nodded gratefully at him. Boarding the jet, I took one of the unoccupied seats and sat there, my back to the others. "Thanks, Jimmy. For coming to get us, I mean. And I'm really sorry that the guys didn't think to invite you."
The door closed, the jet's engine roared to life, and soon enough we were taxing to the runway. "Don't thank me and certainly don't apologise, Daniel." A beat passed. "After all, you don't know what Lucas, Adam, Hugo and I have planned for you yet. If you think these three grasshoppers were bad, you've clearly not experienced a Delaney stag party. Alcohol, shooting, strippers, more alcohol, fancy dress, the naked run..."
I gulped nervously. Seconds later, the jet thrust forward, take off imminent. "Naked run?"
"That's one element of it," Jimmy laughed, clapping his hands together eagerly. "Lucas and Hugo are planning the rest. You're in for a treat, Daniel. And that, my boy, is a promise."
What happens when an Irishman, an Englishman, a Frenchman, and an Indian-American group together to host a stag party?
CHAOS! But that's not until December...
Love to you all