The Secret Wedding Dress

by Ally Blake

  But he’d never imagined it to be more than a beautiful affair. He’d never imagined that she might either. It had only been a few days back that he’d realised she hadn’t even invited him into her apartment. When he’d kicked himself for being more invested than she was.

  And yet …

  He breathed out long and slow.

  It was all there if he let himself see it. He’d seen it in her eyes. Felt it in her touch. Knew it in the unguarded way she gave herself up to him every time they had sex. It had been so long since he’d been anywhere near that depth of feeling he hadn’t recognised that a gorgeous, seductive, testing dish of a woman loved him. The truth of it filled him like a wave of—

  ‘Oh, and the nanotechnology deal fell through,’ Nate said.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Gabe said, blinking back into the light as the wave of sensation turned out to be a prickle of sweat all over his body.

  Nate motioned to the waiter dashing past to bring them both another of the same.

  ‘Think hard,’ Nate said. ‘You spent a few days in Sydney the other week—’

  Gabe ignored the drink the barman slid beside his elbow. ‘Yeah yeah yeah. What I don’t think I heard right was that I didn’t land it.’

  ‘They went another way. Don’t sweat it.’

  Don’t sweat it? Too damn late. The prickles of sweat now felt like a million tiny little needles calling for his blood. Gabe turned on his stool to face the back of the bar, elbows landing on the sticky surface, fingers covering his mouth as he stared unseeingly into the dark mirror.

  He didn’t not land deals. Ever. He was the rainmaker. Failure was not in his vocabulary. It was the talent he brought to the table. The only time it had deserted him had been when he’d been distracted by real life—

  Paige. Half the time away he’d spent thinking about Paige. The other half he’d been trying not to think about her. He’d called in the work, hadn’t he? Because he’d thought it parochial and easy. And because he’d practically had a hard-on all week.

  Dammit. He sat forward and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

  From the moment Paige had tried to jam his fingers in the lift door, he’d known she was a train-wreck in the making. Yet he’d jumped on board because being with her had been intoxicating. For a man who hadn’t felt much of anything in a long time the rush had been impossible to resist.

  He’d had an excuse the first time he’d let a beautiful blonde take his eye off the ball. This time he had none. He’d clearly learned nothing since he’d been gone. And the realisation made him feel ten different kinds of reckless.

  The ride had been something, but it was time to get off. He’d done what he’d come to Melbourne to do and now it was time to go. The prickles eased the moment he made the decision, and he had to believe that meant something, as his gut was the only moral compass he had left.

  His hand found the drink, the ice clinking gently against the glass. And as he lifted it to his mouth he caught his reflection. Distorted by rows of spirit bottles lined up along the dark mirror behind the bar, he recognised his father’s jaw, his mother’s dark hair, his gran’s eyes.

  And his own big fat lie.

  Moral compass, my ass. He’d been desperate for an excuse to jump ship the second Paige had whispered those four soft words into the darkness. Because they’d tugged hard at something inside him. Something he’d thought lost. Something he’d trusted would stay that way.

  Love wasn’t something he sought or wanted in his life. All love meant to him was loss.

  His memories of his parents were rare, and even then they’d flicker into his mind and fade as fast, leaving a hollow ache in their place. His memories of his gran went deeper. Her toughness and substance and faith had given him the foundation from which he’d built his life. And when she’d died he’d lost his way.

  This damn city, he thought. There were too many ghosts after all. He knew he’d stayed away for good reason. This time he wouldn’t ever let himself forget.

  Not caring to look himself in the eye any longer, he spun back around.

  In the end it really didn’t matter why. His decision was made. And it was for the best.

  Gabe told himself it was for the best a hundred times between then and when he knocked on Paige’s apartment door.

  When she opened up music twanged in the background. It faded to a blur as he took in the sight of her: bare feet, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, faded pink T-shirt stretched across her breasts, old jeans barely clinging to her hips revealing a sliver of flat stomach. Without her usual high heels and eclectic layers she seemed smaller. Softer. Sweet as all hell.

  So he told himself again.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ she said, her voice breathless, her smile hesitant. But then she tipped up onto her toes and slid her arms around his neck. Pressed her body against his. And let out a long sigh.

  And before he even knew what he was doing he slid his arms around her waist and held her tight. Her scent, her taste, her heat infusing him till his blood fizzed with it.

  So he told himself again.

  ‘You look tired,’ she said as she sank back on her heels. She licked something off her fingers as she padded deeper into the kitchen. Something sweet if the warm scents coming at him from her apartment were anything to go by. Sweet because she knew that was how he liked it.

  When she glanced back over her shoulder, her chin tilted down, her finger caught between her teeth, her eyes smiling, her feelings for him were so transparent it hurt. Deep behind his ribs.

  And he knew he’d never have to tell himself again.

  When she realised he hadn’t moved, she spun on her toes and faced him, her forehead creased into a frown. ‘Something up?’

  ‘I’m leaving.’ There, whip off the Band-Aid fast. Better for her. Better for him.

  Her finger remained in her mouth a beat before it slowly slid free. Frown still in place, she reached for a tea towel and slid it through her fingers. ‘Where to this time?’

  He didn’t have an answer. That afternoon he’d scoured his emails and found a couple of early leads in Paris and Brussels. Another in Salt Lake City. But he didn’t have a flight booked. He’d take whichever came first and research from there.

  Her eyes slid past him and landed on his bags out in the hall—the same bags he’d arrived with weeks before. ‘You’re leaving? As in leaving.’

  He nodded. Jaw clenched against the dawning realisation in her eyes. He could see her fighting it. Fighting the inevitability they’d both selfishly ignored.

  ‘But I thought … I mean, aren’t you …?’ She shook her head, as if trying to clear out the cobwebs. ‘When will you be back?’

  ‘Not sure. Depends on the work.’

  Her eyebrows slowly lifted as if she wasn’t buying that one for a second. ‘From what I heard you’re the boss. Seems a man in that position can make his own hours.’

  ‘That’s not the way I operate. Never has been.’

  The tea towel gripped tight about her hands, she placed her fists on one hip. ‘Right. Then maybe you can answer this one. How long were you gone last time you ran away?’

  ‘A while,’ he said, before realising he hadn’t denied he was running.

  ‘Weeks. Months. Years?’

  ‘About that.’

  She nodded, hurt, anger, and possibly worst of all resignation twisting her lovely features. She slowly uncurled the tea towel from its death grip and placed it on the bench. ‘Is this where you assure me we can take up where we left off when you next swing through town?’

  He gritted his teeth against the glimmer of hope in her big blue eyes that belied the sarcasm in her tone. He’d never imagined it would be this hard to do the right thing. But he could do it. If only because he knew if he gave an inch he’d be her anchor, only so much as he’d be holding her back when she deserved to be happy. Happy with someone who knew how to be happy with her.

  When he said nothing, the glimmer of hope snuffed out. If she coul
d have turned him to ice with a look, he’d have been a frozen solid on the spot. ‘Wow. I can’t believe I hoped you’d say yes. How close I came to being that woman. The one who accepts the dregs if that’s all she can get from the man she—’

  She swallowed back the next word, and Gabe was so thankful he hated himself.

  Her chin hitched north as she looked him right in the eye and promised, ‘I’ll never be her.’

  All warmth, and sweetness, and vulnerability had fled, locked behind an ice-cool façade. The façade she showed other men. The façade she’d let down for him. It should have made it easier, the distance she was putting between them, instead he wanted her to fight back. To let loose a storm of angry heat in his direction.

  But if cool was what she needed, then cool she’d get. ‘Atta girl.’

  A flicker of heat glinted within the wall of ice blue and he pressed his feet into the floor. ‘So if this is it, if this is such a simple goodbye for you, why are you even here? Why tell me to my face?’

  She had him there. But he couldn’t think up an answer that made any sense. So he went with the incontrovertible, ‘This was only ever going to be short term. You know that.’

  ‘You choose now to remember that? You, the man who asked me on a date. The man whose best friend sent me flowers as he thought it was because of me that he was—’ She shook her head again, before it drooped as if she no longer had the strength to hold it up.

  Dammit. Gabe took a step inside her kitchen until he was close enough to touch. To catch her scent above the scent of baking; far sweeter than any doughnut, or anything else he’d ever known. ‘Paige, you are an amazing woman—’

  ‘Stop. Right there.’

  ‘No.’

  She flinched at his tone. Then slowly looked up. The deep sadness and hurt in her eyes killing him. But his decision was made. And it wasn’t about what he wanted. It was about what he had to do.

  He reached out and tucked a stray strand of soft blonde hair behind her ear. ‘It’s been …’ Dazzling. Tender. Once in a lifetime. ‘A hell of a ride.’

  She swallowed. Her eyes flicking between his as if she still couldn’t quite believe it. As if she might yet wake up and find it was all a bad dream.

  He must have moved towards her because suddenly she was sinking into him with a sigh, her hands splayed out across his back, her head against his chest. He rested his chin on her head, closed his eyes, and told himself this was shoring up his karmic balance. And maybe from that point on he could truly start his life afresh.

  With an effort greater than himself he pulled away.

  ‘Goodbye, Paige.’

  She wrapped her arms around herself and nibbled at her heavenly bottom lip, refusing to say goodbye.

  Gabe could barely feel his feet as he walked out of her door. He lifted his bags to his shoulder and pressed the button for the lift. The door opened instantly, he stepped inside. He didn’t even get a chance to look back, or not, as the lift door practically bit his backside as it snapped shut behind him and he was going down before he’d even picked a floor.

  Paige went the only place she could think that would stop her from shattering into a thousand pieces. To Mae. So when Clint opened the door to his apartment he couldn’t have looked more surprised than she felt. Somehow she’d forgotten he even existed. What a mess.

  ‘Hey, Paige,’ Clint said, looking at her chin rather than her eyes, meaning she must have looked an absolute treat. ‘Ah-h, Mae’s not here.’

  ‘Right.’ She sniffed, rubbing at the sore spot under her ribs where it felt as if a chopstick had been jammed for good. ‘Can I come in anyway?’

  He glanced inside to where the sports channel blared on the TV. ‘There’s a replay of the Pies game. I was kinda looking forward to unbuttoning my jeans and burping out loud.’

  The guy was a human Labrador; it simply wasn’t in him to be unkind. So she knew his hesitation could only mean one thing. He knew that she knew that Mae had cheated. But whatever he saw in her face in the end he pushed the front door open and waved her under his arm.

  Five minutes later, Paige sat curled up on Clint’s faded old tartan couch, a musty-smelling throw tucked around her, a cup of hot chocolate warming her palms as he told his side of Mae’s story, which turned out to be the best possible way she could have distracted herself from her own mess of a love life. From the knowledge she’d been moments from telling Gabe she loved him, right before he’d summarily dumped her.

  ‘We’d been going out for about two months when I walked into a party to find her with her tongue down my friend’s throat, his hands making a joke of her top.’

  ‘Why?’ Paige asked, even while she wasn’t sure she wanted to know why Mae had done it, or why Clint had forgiven her. Because if they couldn’t get this love thing right what hope was there for anyone?

  Clint sat forward, the fire flickering in the old grate creating shadows across his kind face. ‘You grow up assuming you’ll find the one, but as you get older you realise it’s as rare as finding a bar of gold bullion in your cornflakes. Then one day you walk into the same bar you’ve been in a hundred times before and there she is.’

  It seemed too easy to say love conquered all. And too hard all at the same time. ‘But she cheated on you. With a friend. How could that not be game over?’

  He twirled his beer in both hands. ‘Of course she picked a friend. Love is a scary thing, and she loved me too much already to walk away.’

  Paige shook her head, trying to follow the anti-logic, even while it made absolute sense in a way that surprised her to her very roots. ‘Are you guys still friends? You and the guy?’

  Clint’s eyebrows all but disappeared into his tidy crew cut. ‘I decked the guy. Broke his nose. It’s only that he felt like a right git for what he’d done that he didn’t press charges. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do for the woman he loves.’

  The commentators on the screen suddenly went wild and Paige realised Clint was being abnormally quiet considering the Magpies had scored a ripper goal. She glanced across to find him staring into the middle distance, his eyes glassy, the fingers of his right hand flexing, as though sense memory made them feel the pain of the strike. And only then did she notice the knuckles of his other hand had turned white on his beer.

  ‘Aren’t you scared?’

  ‘Of what exactly?’ Clint asked.

  ‘It not working out? Her leaving? Her cheating again? Her not loving you as much as you love her?’

  ‘Sure. I have my moments. But they pass. And they’re worth it. Because she’s worth it.’

  The clench in Paige’s stomach was the very definition of bittersweet. ‘She’s really getting married, isn’t she?’

  Clint could have laughed. She wouldn’t have blamed him. But the sweetheart reached over, wrapped a big brotherly hand around her head, and tucked it into his shoulder. And he sat there and let her tears soak into his sweatshirt. Without judgment or advice. Just acceptance.

  It seemed he understood, way more than she even had herself, that she was grieving. Had been since the moment she’d seen that ring on Mae’s finger. It had meant the end of the most important, strong, invincible relationship of her life.

  What she hadn’t realised was that it could be the beginning of another. She pulled back. Looked into Clint’s kind hazel eyes. If Mae was the closest thing she had to a sister, then that made Clint family too.

  She gave him a watery smile. And with a wink he lifted his beer in a salute and served himself a piece of pizza that looked as if it had cooled and congealed many hours before, before pressing the volume button on the remote.

  Paige breathed deep through her nose and pulled the blanket up under her chin, knowing he’d be gone to her now for a good bit unless she had something derogatory to say about the umpires.

  She grabbed a piece of cold pizza and noticed that the pizza box sat alongside myriad mug rings and a corner of a magazine page that had been stuck there years before by something sti
cky. Elsewhere, fishing rods poked out of the tall pot in the corner. A bike with muddy wheels leant against the wall in the entrance.

  She was surprised Mae hadn’t made more of a mark, filling the place with wild cushions and a top of the line espresso machine. Even Paige’s place still had touches of Mae about it. It seemed Clint was a man who knew himself. Who knew exactly how far he was able to be pushed. And how far he’d go in the name of love.

  Paige’s heart clenched again, but left alone with her thoughts this time there was no fighting it. She had to ride the pain. To own it. To learn from it. And to imagine how it would feel to take Mae by the collar and shake her till her brain rattled for nearly screwing things up with this amazing guy.

  When prickles shot down her legs, warning her if she’d waited another five minutes she’d likely have lost all feeling in them, she untucked them. Right as the front door creaked, groaned, and snapped open, and Mae bustled through the door carrying Chinese food and more beer.

  ‘And there she is,’ Clint said. ‘The woman I love.’

  When Mae saw Paige sitting on her couch, beside her fiancé, snuggled under an afghan, she baulked. Paled. Her expression hovering somewhere between a pained smile and a frown.

  Paige threw the blanket aside and leaned over and gave Clint a kiss. ‘Be good to her or I’ll rip off your boy bits and feed them to my ferret.’

  ‘You don’t have a ferret.’

  ‘I’ll get one.’

  Clint smiled. Sweet man. Strong man. Good man. Good enough for her Mae.

  Paige stood up, padded over to Mae on wobbly legs. Mae looked as if she’d yet to take a breath. Until Paige reached out and enveloped her in a great big bear hug. With a whimper Mae pressed back with all her might, her version of a hug considering her arms were full.

  ‘You look like crap,’ Mae said.

  ‘Feel like it too. I’ll tell you about it later, I promise.’

  ‘Chinese is getting cold!’ Clint called out.

  Mae sniffed. ‘Handle it!’