“My flatmate Christa’s car, when I need it. The rest of the time I get public transport.”
Dave shuddered and I laughed. The lights turned green and Sally propelled us forward with a sense of authority.
“It’s not that bad,” I reassured him. “I only live one station from the city, so I manage. How about you? When did you learn to drive?”
“As soon as I was old enough to. Even before that my Pa had me in go-karts.”
He said the words ‘my Pa’ with such warmth that I smiled. “Did your Pa teach you to drive?”
Dave nodded. “Taught me everything I know about cars.”
And that was a lot, I was certain.
“Who taught you?” he asked.
“I took driving lessons mostly. Lots and lots of driving lessons. Christa and Maddy took me out a few times, but that was pretty hilarious.”
“You’re still friends?” he asked, face deadpan.
“Ha, ha. The best of friends, thank you. I can’t be that bad because as I said Christa lends me hers.”
“Can you drive manual?”
I bit back a laugh at his concerned tone. “Sort of,” I hedged. I’d never had cause to be worried about it before, but obviously my driving skills were lacking in the eyes of a car enthusiast like Dave.
“What does ‘sort of’ mean?”
I shrugged. “At a pinch I can do it, but I wouldn’t get any points for technique.”
“Why didn’t you learn to drive when you were younger?” I thought I caught a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, but it was hard to tell with the reflection of the lights dancing in them.
I tilted my head toward the night sky. The greens, reds and oranges of the traffic lights streaked past in my peripheral vision while the stars shone down from above. “Teaching me how to drive wasn’t really a priority for my family,” I said eventually. “Heath wanted to do it but then I got the scholarship to Sydney University.”
“Who’s Heath?”
“My oldest brother. We’re still close, but he lives in Queensland.” I paused, and ran a finger along the armrest. While I wasn’t bothered about discussing my limited driving skills, I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about my family. “You seem close to your sister from what I can tell.”
Dave didn’t resist my attempt to change the subject. “Close? She just likes to have someone to boss around and I’m it.”
“I like her.”
Dave sort of frowned and smiled at the same time. “She told me you two met the other day.”
I gave him a sidelong look. “Did she tell you she had me over for dinner?”
He threw his head back and laughed. I gripped the armrest tightly.
“Oh, she’s a piece of work,” he said, shaking his head.
But it was obvious he loved her. “Like I said, I like her.”
“Me too.”
We drove along in a comfortable silence for a while. I sat happily listening to the growl of the engine and watching the brightly lit suburban streets whizzing past. As we passed a series of shops facing the street I caught the smell of Asian spices. Sitting in this car brought the world to you. Everything was so immediate, so real.
“I can see why you like this,” I said eventually. “It’s almost got me considering buying a car.”
“She’s not an everyday drive.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you wanted something for day-to-day driving around town, you’d be better off getting something more modern.”
I stared at him, then pretended to clutch my chest. “Classic car Dave telling me to buy something modern? I’m not sure I believe you.”
He shrugged. “It’s safer. As much as I love Sal, she doesn’t have any of the modern crash safety that’s standard in all the cars these days. That’s why I have the ute.”
As usual I didn’t even try to sensor myself. “But you also have three older cars, not to mention three bikes, which are even less safe than the cars. I guess I just didn’t pick you for someone who worried all that much about safety.”
The arm closest to me tensed as he held the steering wheel. “Fifteen years ago maybe. Hopefully these days I’m older and wiser. Any risks I take with my cars or bikes are calculated risks.”
“Were you in an accident?”
Dave frowned and his hands kneaded the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized quickly. “I’m being nosy, aren’t I?”
Dave shook his head slowly. “No. I like your honesty. It’s refreshing.”
“My girlfriends don’t always think it’s refreshing,” I said, trying to ease some of the tension that had settled on him.
He nodded and then seemed almost distracted. We pulled up to another set of traffic lights and he thrummed the steering wheel with one of his thumbs.
“Lauren,” he said, when the lights turned green.
It took me a second to understand what he meant. “Lauren was in an accident?”
He nodded, blipped the accelerator smoothly and the car sprang to life. “Yeah. When she was seventeen. It’s how she lost her hand.”
“Oh,” was all I managed before the breath left me. Of course. I resisted my touchy-feely urge to put a hand on his arm in sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Dave. It must have been hard. To see her go through that.”
“It was hardest for her. She lost her bloody hand. The injuries were that bad she was lucky she didn’t lose more than a hand. Initially they were saying she might lose part of her arm too.” The pain in his voice was brittle, almost bitter.
I forced myself to breathe evenly and for once didn’t say anything. No words I could come up with would sound adequate.
He glanced across at me. “Sorry.” He let out a long breath.
“Don’t be. She’s your sister and you love her.”
He nodded and focused on driving for a while. I didn’t say anything, conscious of his need for space and the fact that he’d just shared something very personal. I tried to take in my surroundings, to let the evening breeze soothe my flushed cheeks.
“Cate?”
I turned to him again.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot,” I said easily.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen your dad?”
I stared at him. “Why?”
“For someone you haven’t seen in a long time you seem to mention him a lot, that’s all.”
“I do?”
“You’ve mentioned him to Lauren and me.”
Proof once more I had a big mouth, but Lauren’s was obviously bigger because she’d told Dave. “You’re right,” I said with a sigh. And so much for attempting to remain professional and not discussing my screwed up family life. Given what he’d just told me about Lauren though, I felt I should return the favor. “I haven’t seen him in over thirteen years. And if I keep mentioning him it’s because I recently learned he’s dying.”
Genuine shock lit his features. “Right. Makes more sense now.”
“It’s doesn’t make any sense. Not really,” I told him. “I’ve never had any intention of seeing him again but when you learn someone is dying, it shifts your perspective on things. Not that I’m holding out any hope of any deathbed reunions. It’s just that it makes the nice, pleasant part of me squirm. It doesn’t feel right not to acknowledge it somehow. I mean, he’s my father, for God’s sake.”
“You could go to his funeral,” Dave suggested, then immediately grimaced. “Sorry, that was poor taste.”
“Not necessarily. Going to his funeral would make some sense, I agree. But it would mean seeing the rest of my family, and that’s sure as hell not going to happen.”
“Family reunion not on the agenda either, I take it?”
It made no sense that I would be smiling, but I was. This man’s simplicity and frankness was so appealing to me. “No. Apart from Heath, I’ve got no plans to see the rest of my family. So there lies the dilemma, I guess.”
“It’s only a dilemma i
f you let it be one.”
“I know, and I’m working on it. Really I am.” I’d been thinking about it more than I cared to admit.
“Well, don’t work too hard on it, Cate. Something tells me you’re too good for them.”
Inexplicably, tears filled my eyes. He had no way of knowing just how much those words cut. I quickly turned my face to the breeze praying the wind would dry them. I needed to display more self-control in front of this likable man who was also unfortunately my client.
“It was something I said, wasn’t it? You asked me before why I don’t like to talk and this is a good example,” he grumbled, and then he flashed me a grin.
My chest tightened in response. Distraction was good. Distraction would get him everywhere.
“Yes, I’m trying to lighten the mood,” he added.
I sniffed and giggled, quickly wiping away a few tears that had escaped. “Sorry. I’m being such a girl, aren’t I?”
We’d arrived in front of my apartment complex and he pulled on the handbrake. “No. You’re a woman, Cate, and you’re allowed to get upset. Just don’t spend too much time on this one. It’s not worth it.”
I nodded and busied myself getting my bag, Dave’s words echoing in my mind. Was it silly of me to latch on to the fact that he’d called me a woman – because surely that meant he’d noticed I was one? I forced myself to smile when I met his eyes again.
“Thank you so much for the lift, Dave. Or should I thank Sally as well?” I teased.
“Sally enjoyed the drive, and it’s no problem. Anytime.”
I nodded again, suddenly feeling awkward. “When you’ve had a chance to review the plan, give me a call.”
“Sure thing.” He gave me one of those half-smiles that always left me longing for more. “Later, Cate.”
Chapter 18
A week later I stood milling around the church pews with Scarlett, James, Matt and Pete. We were waiting for Christa, Max and Maddy to turn up so we could do a rehearsal of the wedding ceremony.
“Well, you proved me wrong,” Scarlett said to me, “maybe those damn lists do work.”
“Lists?” James asked.
I shot Scarlett a warning look. “Scarlett’s just teasing,” I said, secretly mortified. “She’s always had a thing about my tendency to write lists.”
“Lists are good,” James agreed. “Maybe you could write me a few, Cate? I could probably do with some help organizing myself.”
And wasn’t that the truth? I’d only been on two more dates with James – one last weekend and one for dinner again during the week – and quickly learned he was endearingly scatterbrained.
“Oh, she’ll organize you alright,” Scarlett went on. “Judging by her list writing skills that border on magical. She practically conjured you out of thin air.”
James glanced at me in confusion. For all his quick English wit, he still didn’t quite know what to make of Scarlett. That included two of us. I gave Scarlett a death stare.
He looked between us. “I’m missing a private joke, aren’t I?”
“Which I’d prefer remained private,” I said, still glaring at Scarlett.
She grinned. “One day you should ask Cate about her penchant for accents and left-handers, James.”
Oh my God. She was a troublemaker, that’s what she was. I was seriously starting to doubt her genuine concern for me because I would remain single forever if she didn’t shut up.
“Come on, James. Let’s go for a walk,” I suggested, deliberately not looking at Scarlett.
James let me tug him along. “What was she talking about?”
“And sailing. Don’t forget to ask her about sailing!” Scarlett called out. To my horror, her loud voice echoed around the cavernous space.
I pulled James outside.
“Private joke, eh?” He looked cute when he grinned at me. Boyish.
“Do you mind if we just leave it at that?” I requested. “As you can tell, Scarlett enjoys making me feel uncomfortable.”
“You are kind of gorgeous when you’re blushing …”
Predictably I blushed.
“See?” he said, still grinning with his blue eyes twinkling. “So you’re partial to a man with a British accent, huh? Glad I can fulfill that requirement.”
“James—”
“But the left-handers things has got me stumped. What’s so good about them then?”
“You’re just worried because you’re not one.”
“I was ambidextrous as a child. Does that count?”
“Not really.”
“And sailing. I like sailing. Does that mean I’m in?”
I laughed, partly out of embarrassment. We’d only been on a couple of dates and I did like him, but I wasn’t fooling myself. Dave was still in my thoughts.
“I would be interested to know what’s on the rest of that list …”
“Not a chance.”
“I can be quite convincing, you know.”
I believed it. James was charming. If I wasn’t so worried about my unhealthy preoccupation with Dave – who was most definitely not on my list – I might actually let myself have feelings for this man. But Dave was on my mind. A lot. And I’d agreed with my girlfriends to ditch the list anyway, although that didn’t change the fact that Dave was my client—
“Where are you?” James asked.
I shook myself. “Sorry.”
“Well, regardless of what’s on your list, I think it’s worked out rather well both of us being on the bridal party, hasn’t it?”
I smiled at him and then stiffened in alarm at the sound of Christa shouting.
“I can’t do this!”
“Christa. Come back!”
My God. I’d never heard Max raise his voice like that. He sounded pained, almost panicked.
Christa swung around to face him, standing at the foot of the church steps. “No, Max. I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t me. I can’t go through with this wedding.” She looked close to tears.
Maddy had arrived and was standing on the pavement staring at the two of them in shock – like I was – and Scarlett stood nearby at the church entrance.
“What are you talking about? Are you saying you don’t want to marry me?” Max’s face contorted in disbelief.
“Of course I want to marry you, you idiot! I just don’t want this stupid wedding.”
Max’s shoulders drooped and he pushed a hand roughly through his short, dark brown hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you! But you never listen.”
“What do you mean? I always listen to you, Christa. You know that.”
A tear escaped and slid down Christa’s cheek. “Not this time you didn’t.”
Max stood and stared at her, obviously trying to process his fiancée’s words. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually, his voice back to a reasonable level. “I guess I did hear you complaining about it, but I just thought you were letting off steam.”
Christa swiped the tear away. “I was letting off steam, but it’s more than that.”
“Now you tell me,” muttered Max. He stepped toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “What do you want to do?”
Christa sniffed and shrugged. “I don’t know. Elope?”
It was a joke, but Max’s forehead creased thoughtfully. “I’m in. How do you want to make it work?”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I was only putting up with all of this for you.”
Christa squealed in delight and threw herself into Max’s arms. He crushed her to his chest, wrapping his strong arms around her.
“Alright, you two.” Maddy marched forward to stand beside them. “Enough drama. We need to sort this out.”
Max looked at Maddy over Christa’s blonde curls and grinned. “Let me guess, little sis. You’re going to sort it out for us?”
“Well, I am the maid of honor and someone a little less emotionally involved would probably help.”
Maddy put an arm around her brother’s shoulders and started to lead them back into the church. James and I rushed to follow behind. Scarlett waited for us and then walked alongside me.
“See?” she whispered. “This is why I told John marriage is a bad idea.”
I chuckled softly. “Is that why you let him put a ring on your finger?”
“It’s a commitment ring, not an engagement ring. And if he does want the bit of paper, the registry office will do fine, thank you.”
I smiled at her. “Come on. Let’s go help them figure this out.”
*
As usual Maddy’s determination shone through.
The reception venue had already been booked, not to mention a lot of other things, and it was too late to cancel. She convinced Christa and Max that the reception could still work.
“Let’s face it. Keeping the reception will shut Mum up and it will be easier to convince her to go along with the rest of it if we do,” Maddy explained.
‘The rest of it’ involved having the ceremony a week earlier at Maddy and Max’s parents’ holiday house on the South Coast. I’d never been there, but apparently it directly overlooked a long stretch of stunning beach.
“We’ll drive down on Friday – I’m sure we can all arrange a day off – with immediate family like our parents. We’ll have the ceremony on the Saturday. If you want to have any other close friends or family there though, you better get on the phone to them quick smart,” Maddy advised.
“That sounds perfect, Maddy,” Christa replied. “It will be really intimate.” She looked over at Max, her light blue eyes recovering some of their brightness.
“Whatever you want, Bubbles,” Max said.
“Smart man,” said Maddy. “It will be my job to sell the change of plans to mum. I’ll pitch the reception as a big wedding party, a sort of ‘after the event’ celebration. It won’t be formal and we’ll change the meals from a three course sitting to a cocktail reception.”
“Are you sure we can do that?” Christa asked.
“Of course we can.”
I almost felt sorry for the reception organizer. There would be no negotiating with Maddy.
“The flowers are a little bit of an issue,” continued Maddy, “but we’ll just have to turn them into table settings and other decorative pieces.”
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