‘No, that’s not it. We...grew up. We went through those awful, awkward stages fairly close to one another because the age gaps between us are close.’ Her stomach churned at what she was leaving out—at the years she’d spent taking care of them—but she forced herself to at least say this. ‘My father got sick before things could get better. That...that in itself changed things. Then I—I left, and there were no more chances.’
‘There’ll be more chances,’ he said softly.
She made a noncommittal sound, already afraid she’d revealed too much. Her insides were almost vibrating from the vulnerability, and she didn’t like it. She glanced over when she heard an intake of breath—like he was going to ask her something big, or try to make her feel better—and she held her own breath.
But he only said, ‘Families are hard.’
She let out the air slowly, watching his face as she did. She narrowed her eyes.
‘You know, you say that, and yet there’s something about the way you’ve said it—and your expression—that makes me think you don’t believe it.’
He didn’t look at her, but the side of his mouth curve. ‘This is beginning to get creepy.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’
Now he did look at her. ‘What do you think I’m talking about?’
‘The fact that our instincts are telling us things about the other even though we’ve only known each other for a few hours?’
‘Like I said—creepy.’
‘I agree.’ And she knew when they parted ways, she’d wonder about it. ‘So stop avoiding the question and tell me why you’re lying.’
‘I’m not. Not in the way you’re thinking.’ His hands tightened around the box of donuts. ‘My family’s pretty close-knit. It’s great most of the time. Not so great when you’ve done something stupid and you don’t want to be called out on it.’
‘That’s why you’re dreading going home?’
‘Yeah. Part of it, anyway. I’m not looking forward to having the post-breakup conversation.’
‘But they know, right?’
‘They know.’
They walked in silence for a few seconds, and then Ezra said, ‘Your turn.’
‘What?’
‘There’s more to this whole “I don’t like Christmas and weddings” thing, isn’t there?’
‘I told you a lot of it already.’
‘Angie.’
‘What more could there be, Ezra?’
‘Angie.’
He stopped then, forcing a young couple who’d been walking behind them to part. They got stern looks in return, but Angie didn’t mind it as much since it gave her a moment to compose herself. When she turned to face him, the plea saw in those incredible eyes made the words slip from her lips almost as if they’d been oiled.
‘My parents were married around Christmas. They celebrate—celebrated—’ so hard, she thought, and forced herself to continue ‘—their anniversary around this time every year.’ She swallowed down the bile. ‘They renewed their vows months before my father—’ She took a breath. Cleared her throat. ‘Around this time, too.’
‘Which is the real reason you hate being at this wedding,’ he said softly, almost to himself. He shook his head. ‘The memories must be hard.’
‘Yeah.’ Her feet began to move again, as if they wanted to run from the emotion weighing down on her chest. ‘The memories are there, but they’re not—’ She broke off when she realised she didn’t know how to finish that sentence. She pivoted. ‘I haven’t actually been home since...since we lost him. I haven’t hadn’t the chance to be reminded of it.’
‘You didn’t have to be home to be reminded of it,’ he said next to her.
‘Not sure that’s true,’ she replied. ‘I’ve never been around my mother since then to figure out how she feels about spending her anniversary without my father. Or Christmas, for that matter.’ Or any other day, she thought, but didn’t say it. ‘He... It happened at the beginning of the year. I left in February. And now I’m back. Three years later.’
‘Which makes going back so much worse,’ he said softly. ‘You have to spend Christmas around your mom and be reminded of it. Of being without him.’
She swallowed when his words, his understanding fed the lump of emotion in her throat. She took a deep breath, kept it in for a few seconds, then let it out. She did that four or five times. Though it didn’t cause the anxiety or hurt to disappear, it faded them enough for her to speak again.
‘It makes absolutely no sense, but I’m mad at them for doing it. For getting married at Christmas. It’s so stupid. It’s...selfish.’ She turned away from him, tucking her hands into her armpits though there was no chill in the breeze that flew over them. ‘It feels like I have two reasons to dread Christmas now. A memory of their anniversary, and a memory of how...’ She sucked in air, let it out slowly. ‘The last Christmas I spent with them hadn’t been great either. My father was sick, and he got sicker—’
She broke off. Shook her body to try to get out of it. She felt the pain of it. Of this this very clear evidence of why she’d gone away; of why she refused to think about it more than she had to. She felt the guilt in her bones.
‘There’s nothing wrong with dreading Christmas,’ Ezra said.
They started down the gravel path where all of this has started earlier that afternoon, toward the café. Angie’s eyes flitted over her rental, but she kept walking, noting as she did that there were barely any people around this time.
‘There’s especially nothing wrong with dreading Christmas when it has painful memories of someone you were close to,’ Ezra added.
‘It’s funny,’ she said after a while. ‘When he was still here, I don’t think I’d have described us as close. We were much too similar.’
Which has been part of the problem, she thought. Her heart thudded painfully, and she cleared her throat. He was getting hopelessly too much information from her. Besides, she needed the distraction.
‘What ended your relationship?’
His eyebrows rose, and he stuffed a hand into his pocket while the other held the donut box against his hip. ‘This is revenge, isn’t it?’
‘No.’ But his eyebrows went even higher and she nodded with a small smile. ‘Maybe a little.’ She blew out a breath. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not used to—’
‘You don’t have to apologise.’ He offered her a smile that had her gut twisting and a voice in her head scolding her for being callous. ‘I was pushing.’
She didn’t reply. Wasn’t sure what she should say. How could she tell him it was less about him pushing and more about the fact that she still struggled to speak about her father? About the complicated mess of her feelings about what had happened? About her family? About the guilt that drove her? The responsibility now, too? And the fear—always the fear—that she’d take over from her father and be her mother’s entire emotional support? That feeling responsible for her mother, her sisters meant that she was already doing it?
Her heart pounded in her ears, making the silence stretching between them so much worse. Making the ache in her heart, her lungs, her gut, her bones so much worse. And then she was wishing she could say something to break it. To go back to the ease they’d shared earlier.
But she was beginning to realise that things with Ezra were complicated, too. They could go from easy to difficult and back within minutes. She let the silence ride—breathing, letting her body slip back into its natural rhythm—and told herself to be comfortable with the knowledge that she and Ezra were complicated.
‘To be perfectly honest with you,’ Ezra said into the silence. She nearly smiled that her instinct had been correct. ‘I’m not sure what ended my relationship. Maybe it was never meant to become what I thought it would.’ He paused. ‘Sometimes I think I imagined it all.’
‘Seven years is a long time to imag
ine things,’ she said after a moment. ‘No offence, but I don’t think you’re that creative.’
He laughed quietly. ‘You’re talented.’
‘Thank you. And yes, I will sign all the copies you’ll buy of my book someday.’ They shared a smile. ‘It does suck though,’ she continued, ‘the whole end of your relationship. I’m sorry you had to go through that.’
He blinked. Frowned. Shook his head.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Nothing,’ he answered. ‘It’s... You’re right. It does suck.’
‘Why are you saying it like that? Like you’ve only just realised it?’
‘No, I always knew it. I haven’t spent much time thinking about it like that though. It seemed...too simple, almost.’ He stopped walking. ‘But it does suck.’
She stopped, too, and turned to face him. ‘Sometimes the best answer is the simplest one.’
And in that moment, as they stood looking at one another, something shifted. Angie’s mind scrambled to figure out what. What had changed? How had it changed so quickly? But then the air snapped between them and she had no more opportunity to think. Not when her lungs had gone heavy, as if there was too much air in them. Or not enough.
She wanted to tell herself to breathe. To take a moment and breathe.
But she couldn’t.
Because all her wants had suddenly been ensnared by the man standing in front of her. The man who looked at her as if she were the only person in the world. The man she’d shared more with in the last hours than she had with anyone else in the past three years.
Maybe even before that.
How had things gone from teasing, to sharing, to...to this? Was it that complicated thing again? And how could things be complicated after such a short period of time? Why did she feel like the fact that they were was significant somehow?
Heat shimmered through her belly. At her thoughts, at the way he was looking at her. At the way that look made her feel.
As if she were the only person he’d ever looked at. As if she were the only woman he ever wanted to look at.
As if she’d been swept into one of those romance novels she’d read growing up. Into the happy tension of them that she wanted to create as an adult. Where people didn’t die or grow apart. Where there was only one ending and it was happy; for ever, or at the very least, for now.
Something inside her acknowledged that she wanted to feel that way. Happy. It didn’t seem to matter if it was for ever when it was for now. Damn it, she wanted to feel—she wanted to believe—that they were the only two people in the world.
If she did, she could step forward, lay her lips on his without consequence. She could run her hands over the ripples of his muscles. Slide her fingers through his thick, dark hair. She could find out if he was as attentive physically as he’d been emotionally.
‘Stop,’ Ezra said suddenly, his voice hoarse.
‘What?’ Her tone echoed his.
‘Looking at me like that. It, this, isn’t a good idea.’
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘So it makes absolutely no sense that I don’t care about what kind of idea it is.’
She stepped toward him, leaving just enough space that he would have to close the distance between them. If they were going to do this, both of them had to participate. In the decision. In the desire.
The slight curve of his lips as he stepped forward told her he was more than willing. She let her eyes flutter closed—heard the rapid beating of her heart in her ears as she did—and waited for his lips to touch hers.
And was startled when instead, his voice sounded in her ear.
‘We have an audience.’
Chapter Seven
Emotions warred inside him at his situation. The situation where he’d been about to kiss the most captivating woman he’d ever known, but had been interrupted by an elderly couple watching them. It was only slightly more disturbing that the man was watching them with undisguised approval; the woman clasping her hands in unbridled joy.
Or bridal joy, he thought, when he recognised the man from the café.
‘Did you do it, son?’ the man called when Angie moved away from him, stepping back quickly enough for him to brace to catch her. His eyes moved over her face, taking in the flush as she steadied herself. As she avoided looking at him.
‘No,’ Ezra replied with a sick feeling in his stomach, which deepened at the disappointment on the couple’s face. ‘The night’s still early and I’d like it to be a surprise,’ Ezra heard himself continue. He shrugged when Angie shot him a quick glance before looking back at the couple.
‘Oh, Charles, we interrupted the surprise,’ the woman exclaimed, slapping a hand lightly on the man’s arm. ‘And all because you wanted to neck in the woods while waiting for Jenny and Dave.’
‘It’s not my fault they decided to take photos—and do only heaven knows what else—for two hours.’ Then his face eased into a smile. ‘Besides, I’d suggest it again if we actually got to do it this time.’ Charles snaked a hand around the woman’s waist and nuzzled her neck.
Ezra looked over at Angie. This time, she didn’t look away, her eyes wide, alight with humour. It eased the tension between them; the tension inside him eased, too. It was strange, considering he couldn’t place a finger on what had caused it. Then his eyes moved back to Charles and the woman—his wife, Ezra thought, when he saw the ring gleam on her hand—and he felt a kick of jealousy in his chest.
It was so completely unexpected that he almost didn’t hear what Charles said next, only tuning in again when Angie spoke. ‘Oh, they won’t miss us.’
‘Of course they will. You should get back to the venue. They should be back any moment now.’
‘Charles, look, I know what I said, but we’re really not guests at the wedding.’
The desperation in Angie’s voice told Ezra she was tired of the charade.
‘But you’re wearing—’
‘The same colour and style of dress as the wedding party?’ She looked down at the green dress that clung to the upper half of her body and swirled down loosely from her waist. ‘I know. Like I said before, it’s a coincidence.’
‘Charles, have you been accosting this poor woman and she isn’t even a part of the wedding?’ The accusatory tone Charles’s wife used made even Ezra wince.
‘I thought...’ He paused, a frown furrowing his brow so that the white of his eyebrows stuck together. ‘I suppose I’ve been terribly insistent, haven’t I?’ His tone was apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, my dear.’
Angie smiled, though there was something beneath it that made Ezra’s lungs feel as though they were constricting.
‘What about the engagement?’
‘That’s real,’ Ezra spoke almost without realising it. Charles brightened.
‘Oh, good. It wasn’t all for nothing. See, Becky?’
‘Yes, darling,’ Becky replied, tucking her arm into the crook of her husband’s. ‘We should probably get back. Jenny and Dave are on their way.’
‘Yes,’ Charles told her, patting her hand. ‘You two are going to have a wonderful life together. I can just see it.’
Ezra offered the man an uneasy smile and watched as the couple walked away. He turned to Angie when they were gone, holding his breath at the look on her face.
‘What was that about?’
‘I couldn’t disappoint them. They looked so...so...excited about the prospect of an engagement.’
‘And that made you forget that you almost left me in the café earlier because even the word “engagement” spooked you?’
‘I didn’t—’ He broke off. ‘This was different.’ And he was beginning to realise that it was.
‘How?’
‘I don’t know,’ he lied. Guilt nudged him, but he ignored it, unable to bring himself to tell Angie the truth. He was still trying to wrap his
head around it himself. ‘We should get back.’
‘Actually, I should be leaving.’
Ezra had been shocked by the realisation of why it was important to him not to disappoint Charles and Becky. It was nothing compared to the way her words made him feel now.
‘Is it because of this whole thing with Charles and Becky? If it is, I can—’
‘It’s not,’ she interrupted. ‘It’s time for me to go. I have another hour before I get to Cape Town and it’s almost peak traffic time.’
‘But...’ He trailed off, unable to offer her any reason to stay except...
Except them.
But there was no them. Which meant he couldn’t tell her why he wanted her to stay. Hell, he was still trying to figure out what it meant that he wanted her to stay in the first place.
‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘For saving me in there.’
‘Not that you needed saving in the end.’
She laughed lightly. ‘Yeah, that tends to happen with me a lot.’
He smiled, nodded. Felt a hopelessness in both gestures that churned his stomach.
‘Good luck. With your family. You’re nervous to see them again,’ he continued, answering the question in the look she sent him.
‘Yeah.’ There was a pause. ‘Very perceptive. Unsurprising, but perceptive. Thank you, Doctor. I assumed,’ she said when he frowned. ‘Lecturing positions are hard to come by. They don’t just hand them out because the candidate is cute.’
She grinned, and his heart raced in his chest even as his mind told him he hadn’t paid enough attention to her smile. To the kindness there; the proof that she had a big heart. Big enough that it had changed something inside him. He had no idea what. Had no idea why. But he wanted to figure both of those things out. He was terrified that if she left, he wouldn’t be able to.
‘Don’t let her keep you from moving on,’ she interrupted his thoughts, all traces of the smile he’d been admiring gone. ‘You deserve to move on.’
‘Even if I was the reason we broke up?’
‘I’m not sure that’s true,’ she replied. ‘If you were, you would have known why things ended. You seem like the type to,’ she answered his unspoken question. ‘Honestly, Ezra, I don’t believe only one person is responsible for the end of a relationship. I think, once you have more time to think about it—once you’ve settled back into your new old life, or old new life—’ she smiled, sobered ‘—you’ll have realised your mistakes. And you’ll learn from them.’
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