Friday morning came sooner than I'd have liked it to. Once arranging for my cousin, Edie, to take care of Glasga (my lovable, fat Scottish fold) over the course of my holiday, I lugged my suitcase out the door and into a cab. During the hour-long ride from Edinburgh to Glasgow International Airport, I listened to music, trying to console myself that all would be okay, and that Arthur's presence wouldn't give me a panic attack, hives, or an STD. I suppose I could have reflected upon the happy times that he and I had once shared, but those embarrassed me too much to think about. I cringed at the thought of his kiss and blushed at the notion that I had once loved him. Foolish.

Arthur waited for me at the other side of a chain-link, barbed-wire fence. The gate yielded to me once I entered a code, and I walked past it with luggage in tow.

"Hello, Eileen," he greeted, forcing himself to smile. It looked unnatural- his eyes squinted as though he were looking into bright sunlight. Still, I appreciated the effort and extended my hand. Proper. Business-like. I could make this trip work.

"Hello, Arthur," I smiled as well. "I hope ye've been well."

"Well, as always. And you?"

"I can't complain."

We stood in silence for a moment before he cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should board."

"Oh, right." I chuckled nervously. This didn't have to be so bad, did it? We could overlook our past… And I could always ditch him and play beach volleyball once we got to Aruba.

"Champagne?" An attendant greeted Arthur and me with a large bottle of Kristal.

"Yes, thank you."

"I'd love some!"

She smiled and filled two flutes for us, setting the bottle in a bucket of ice on our built-in table. Arthur grinned as he watched miniscule bubbles stream from the base of the flute and erupt on the surface of the drink. The man loved his booze.

"Cheers." He held up his glass, and I tapped it with mine.

"To happiness." I toasted, taking a sip of the beverage.

"To happiness," he agreed, "and the prosperity of the United Kingdom."

I nearly spit out the Kristal. Was his comment pointed? I reminded myself not to be sensitive- Scotland was still part of the UK, after all, so he technically wished for my prosperity as well.

"Yes…"

He gulped his champagne, mostly likely in an attempt to steady his nerves. I took another sip simply to be polite. I wasn't much for champagne- I preferred a good, dark ale.

"You look different, Eileen. You've let your hair grow longer, haven't you?"

"Yeah." I smiled, pleased that someone noticed. "Now that I've stopped abusin' it with the flat-iron, that is."

He nodded, unsure of what to say. I ought to have asked him about himself, but I was tied for words, as well. The both of us took another sip (in his case, a gulp) from the flutes.

"So then I told Ireland where he could shove his Celtic Tiger!...An' then he punched me. Ass." Arthur swayed in his seat and chuckled as he recounted the tale, obviously inebriated.

I groaned. I'd spent three hours with Kirkland, and he was already drunk. Still, something struck me as strange. He'd only had one drink, and his tolerance for alcohol was normally a lot better.

Then, it clicked.

"Did ye take any medicine before the flight, Arthur?"

He smiled, nodding. I cradled my forehead in my hands.

"What did ye take?"

"Prozac!"

Oh, Lord. "Ye aren't s'posed to drink with that."

For a moment, his face showed concern, but he quickly went back to laughing. "Whoops! Say, 'Leen, you should have another drink, too! Ya look all serious."

"That's because I am serious. This is a business trip, and I'm not going to perpetuate a negative Scottish stereotype on it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, you're already a ginger."

Despite feeling an overwhelming urge to chuckle (I loved a good ginger joke), I remained impassive. "C'mon, I'll get some food in ye before ya pass out…"

Eileen and I both stepped off the plane in a sour mood, neither of us talking to one-another as we rolled our luggage to the taxi-cab that waited just outside. Still, we had to be civil in front of others, and we chatted with the friendly driver, a native Aruban who was more than eager to talk about his homeland with us. Outside, the sky was shrouded in a violet fog, and the stars seemed to have endlessly populated it.

Over the course of fifteen minutes, I tried not to wince as my head throbbed uncomfortably. I hated getting hangovers- they always made me feel crabby. I might not have the most pleasant demeanor, but I certainly wasn't getting off on the best foot with Eileen with this hangover, either.

Once we reached the Marriott, we tipped the driver, Miguel, and headed into the lobby. The room we'd entered was bright and elegant, with gold-painted walls and sparkling chandeliers. Eileen walked to the concierge desk, intent on checking us in, while I rested in one of the red-velvet chairs. It was quite comfy, and I would have much preferred to sleep in it instead of in a room with Eileen. I blushed at the notion- what if someone thought that she and I were a couple? It was pure ridicule that the Queen made me go in this trip…

"Come on," Eileen stated rather flatly as she handed me a white key-card, the lights from the chandelier reflecting off of it. I followed her into an elevator, and she pressed the fourth button on the wall. Once we'd reached our floor, we hastened to our room, still not speaking a word to one-another. To be fair, I could understand why Eileen was upset that I'd gotten drunk, but was it my fault that I'd forgotten about my Prozac before taking a drink? She was the one that had made me so anxious in the first place, after all…

Once inside the room, I took to the kitchenette and washed down two Advil pills with a bit of water from the sink. Eileen, meanwhile, entered one of the doors leading away from the small living room furnished with wooden stools. She was most likely searching for a bedroom.

I opened one of the other doors, finding a bathroom. I took my toiletries case out of my duffel and set them on the left side of the sink, smirking at the bit of irony. Eileen had always set her perfumes, hair-pins, and such at the left of the vanity when we were married. Deciding to be kind, I moved my belongings over to the right.

I sighed to myself as I saw my reflection. How would I last a week with her? While in the restroom, I brushed my teeth and put on my night clothes, wanting to evade the embarrassment of Eileen walking in on me dressing. Once finished, I flicked off the lights and left with luggage in tow to search for my own room.

Eileen was waiting for me outside the door, he arms folded.

"Well, we're rather unlucky."

My throat tightened. "What do you mean?" I was afraid I already knew the answer.

"Our bosses were so kind to set us up in a room with one bedroom."

I frowned, my face heating with embarrassment. "You can't be serious."

"Oh," she laughed bitterly, "It gets better. I've checked the livin' room- there's not so much as a bench in there, and the stools would be rather painful to roll off of."

"So you mean to tell me that we're stuck in this hotel with one bed."

"Afraid so. I don't mind if ye sleep in it, too, but I'm certainly not spendin' my vacation restin' on the floor."

"The floor is fine for me, so long as there's blankets."

"Ah, now tha's the problem. I could give ye some from the bed, I suppose. I don't think ye should sleep on the floor if ye have a hangover, though."

She did have a point. I sighed. "I'll take the bed, as well. The floor would be bad for my back, anyway."

"Still havin' troubles with it?"

I frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "Never mind, just curious." Eileen shook her crimson waves out of their bun before settling under the covers. She edged over to the far left end of the bed and flicked off her lamp. "Good night."

I tucked myself in on the other side. "Good night, Eil-" I caught myself. Why had I used her nickname? It must have been the familiarity of the situation, of falling asleep together. "-een."

I quickly turned off my light, as well, so that I wouldn't have to see her face soured by distaste.

Surprisingly enough, when my curiosity got the best of me and I glanced over, she only appeared to be sad.