Lovewrecked

by Halle, Karina

  “I’m sorry, lingerie?”

  He kisses her on the top of the head, and her cheeks grow redder while avoiding our eyes. “It’s my nickname for her. Lacey…lingerie. Lacey lingerie.” He laughs again, slapping his thigh as if it’s the funniest thing.

  Okay, I can’t handle this.

  “And what’s your nickname?” my dad asks him. “Little Dicky?”

  I burst out laughing, wanting to high five my dad, especially as Richard stares at us in confusion.

  “I’m not sure I understand the context, Mr. Lewis,” he says.

  My father sighs. “Never mind.”

  “We should probably go back,” Lacey says. “Daisy, you can put your stuff away upstairs if you like and then please join us in the backyard for a cocktail.”

  Please join us in the backyard for a cocktail? I feel like I’m at a timeshare presentation or something.

  I watch as Lacey and Richard walk back inside the house, arm-in-arm.

  What a bunch of dorks.

  My dad claps his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, better do as your sister says or she’ll have another meltdown. I’ll make sure to get you a glass of sauvignon blanc when you’re done.”

  Once inside my father tells me to go upstairs. It’s a nice house and it feels really weird that I haven’t met the owners yet, and that the owners are Tai’s parents. It’s like I shouldn’t be here.

  But when I get to the second floor, most of the doors are open and people’s suitcases are piled in. My parents’ suitcases are in what looks like a study, I see the shape of Lacey’s wedding gown hanging in a guest bedroom, and then I spot my suitcases in the room right across.

  This has to be Tai’s old room because it’s as if I’ve walked into a museum exhibit devoted to showcasing the inner workings of a teenage boy.

  The walls are covered from top to bottom with posters, I can’t even find an inch of drywall. It’s all surfing shots, big waves, or boxers in a ring, or the All Blacks rugby team, or sailboats, and the occasional pin-up girl is thrown in for good measure, often posing beside said surfboards. This room tells me everything I need to know about teenage Tai. Hell, it might tell me a lot about grumpy adult Tai.

  I do have to admit I’m disappointed that the pinup girls he chose all seem to be the same type, tall, skinny and blonde with rich tans and big boobs. I’ve got the boobs but that’s about it.

  Then, of course, I’m disappointed in myself for being disappointed.

  The presence of someone behind me immediately makes me whirl around.

  Tai is standing in the doorway. Or rather, he’s leaning against the doorway and observing me, an apple in his hand that he’s munching on.

  “Hope you don’t mind your digs for the night,” he says, taking a rather loud crunch of his apple. I don’t know if this is a new kink or what, but there’s something very sexy about watching a man eat an apple with such gusto. Or maybe it’s just that it’s Tai doing it.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind me sleeping in your room?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “Not really my room anymore.”

  I look around at the walls. “Are you sure? It’s so perfectly preserved.”

  He’s silent. I look back at him and somehow his eyes seem even darker than normal.

  Then it passes. He shrugs again. “My parents like to pretend I still live here.”

  “So where do you live?” I know I’m pressing my luck by asking him even more questions but hey, he’s the one who decided to stop by and seductively eat an apple.

  “Not too far from here.”

  That’s as good as I’ll get.

  “How old are you?”

  He narrows his eyes. “Thirty-four.” Pause. “Why?”

  “Because I’d like to know how many years have passed between this version of Tai,” I gesture to the room before gesturing to him, “and this version of Tai.”

  He bites the apple again. Munch, munch, munch.

  I stare at his throat as he swallows and why, oh why, do I find that so hot?

  “Who is to say they aren’t the same person?”

  “Uh huh,” I tell him, pointing at one of the pinups. “So you’re telling me that these cheesy artificial babes are still your top choice for a wankfest?”

  He coughs, nearly spitting out the apple, his temples darkening. Then he smiles. “Wouldn’t they be your first choice for a wankfest?”

  I look back at them and their vacantly cheery eyes. I mean, they are pretty. “I suppose…”

  “So maybe my tastes have changed,” he goes on, adjusting his casual pose against the door. His eyes rake over my body in such a dark, heated way that I get goosebumps. “My top choice for your so-called wankfest happens to be petite and spicy redheads with big tits.” He grins. “But they have to know when to shut up. Luckily for you, you don’t.”

  And with that he leaves the room.

  Wow.

  He went there.

  My cheeks feel hot and I immediately press my hands there, hoping to calm the flush. The last thing he needs to know is how that look of his made me feel.

  It made me realize how desperately I need to get laid.

  And desperate is something I’ve never been.

  I straighten up, ignoring my body that seeks to betray me every time I’m around him, and then I head downstairs.

  I take a quick look around the kitchen and living room, just being nosy, and then head through the screen door at the back that leads into a sprawling green yard.

  There’s about a dozen people here that I don’t know, all holding glasses of white wine or beer in dark amber bottles, a BBQ along the white fence is smoking and smelling like grilled meats and tangy sauce. In the distance, a group of guys, including Tai, are tossing around a rugby ball on the beach.

  Shit. I didn’t realize it was a party. I look like ass, probably smell like ass. I’m about to head back inside to get changed and redo my makeup when Richard, of all people, waves me over.

  “Oy, Miss Daisy Lewis,” he says, wiggling his fingers at me.

  Ugh, please don’t do that. It’s creepy.

  He’s with Lacey, and another young couple. My father heads over to join them, double-fisting white wine. He raises one of the glasses to me when he sees me.

  Sigh.

  There’s no escape.

  But at least there is wine.

  I head across the grass, giving everyone a big smile, the one that I’m used to, the one that tells everyone that I’m fine and always will be fine. That’s the Daisy they expect.

  “So nice of you to join us,” Lacey says, as if I wasn’t in Tai’s room for a maximum of five minutes.

  “Here you go sweetie,” my dad says as he hands me the wine.

  I take it and thank him, waiting to see if the sharp mineral smell of the sauvignon blanc will either worsen my hangover or better it.

  “Daisy, this is Eaton and Jana,” Richard says. “They’re both part of the wedding party.”

  I politely say hello to them both, though I can tell right away that they aren’t my type of people. They seem to be in their late thirties and, judging by their boring outfits, they’re probably professors like my sister and Richard, or at least scientists. And though their smiles are innocent enough, I get the feeling they’re looking down at me.

  But I fake that it doesn’t bother me. I’m good at that. All throughout high school, whatever few friends Lacey did have, they all treated me like I was some dummy. I liked makeup and I talked too much and smiled too much. It didn’t matter that at the time my whole goal in life was to be a marine biologist, and I was just as studious as my sister was. I swear Lacey tells people lies about me and I have no idea what they are or why she would do that. I guess it says a lot about me that I would even think that about my own sister.

  And now you’re here for her wedding, so how about you focus on the positive? I tell myself.

  “Did you make the journey by yourself?” Eaton asks me, swirling the wine in his glass.
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  “I did,” I tell him, mimicking him by swirling my own glass.

  “She was going to bring her boyfriend but…” Lacey says, trailing off.

  “We broke up,” I say to her, flashing her a smile that says shut up in sister-language.

  “Oooh, that’s tough,” Jana says, wincing in an exaggerated way. “Weddings are awful to attend alone.”

  Rubbing salt in the wound, are we?

  I shrug, still swirling the glass. “I guess. I mean, I am the maid-of-honor so I wouldn’t even have had any time for him anyway.”

  “You need to stop swirling the glass,” Eaton says, nodding at me while he sips his wine. “You’re bruising the flavor.”

  Bruising the flavor? Give me a break.

  I look at dad who is grinning ear-to-ear. “Well, shucks, Eaton. Who knew there was a wrong way to drink wine?”

  “Oh, Eaton is an expert on wine,” Richard says proudly. “He did his dissertation on the hybridization of New Zealand’s pinot noir in Blenheim.”

  “That’s great,” I say. Fascinating stuff.

  “So, your sister tells me that you’re the head of marketing for some big company in the US,” Jana says.

  Oh goody, a subject change from the fact that I’m here alone to the fact that I no longer have a job.

  “Was,” Lacey speaks up. “She was the head of marketing. She was laid off.”

  “Wow,” Jana says to me, her expression full of pity. “You’re having a hell of a time.”

  “But she’ll be fine,” Lacey interjects, giving me a look I can’t read. “She’s always fine.”

  I want to ask her what the hell she means by that, but my father says, “Of course she’ll be fine. She’s my daughter.”

  Lacey rolls her eyes.

  “So how long are you in the country for?” Jana asks. “Got any fun plans?”

  “Aside from this?” I ask cheerily. They probably don’t pick up on sarcasm very well. “No plans. Just here for the wedding. Going back home in a week.”

  But what are you going home to?

  “That’s a shame,” Eaton says. “New Zealand has so much to offer.”

  “You should do what your sister is doing and charter a boat,” Jana says.

  I frown. This is the first I’m hearing of this.

  I look at Lacey and Richard. “You’re chartering a boat?”

  “For our honeymoon,” Richard says. He jerks his chin to Tai playing rugby in the background. “Tai gave us a fantastic deal.”

  I have so many questions. “What happened to Fiji?”

  “We’re sailing to Fiji,” Lacey says, annoyed. “Don’t you read any of my emails?”

  “And don’t worry, I’m an excellent sailor,” Richard says, as if I was worried. “Tai has taught me a lot over the years. It’s been a pleasure to be in the student role instead of the teacher. Besides, the yacht is practically push button. Top of the line.”

  “How long is that trip?” I ask.

  “About ten days, sometimes more,” he says. He looks to my father. “I invited your parents along with us, but I think your father has cold feet.”

  It’s my father’s turn to look annoyed. “It’s not cold feet, little Dicky. It’s called work.”

  “Why on earth would you want them on your honeymoon?” I ask, then give my father an apologetic smile. “No offense, dad.”

  He shrugs and sips his wine, a much heartier gulp than the one before.

  “Here’s the thing, Daisy,” Richard leans in and says in a conspiratorial tone. “A honeymoon is just a vacation for us. Your sister and I have been having sexual relations for many years already.”

  “Ew,” I say, scrunching up my nose.

  “It’s not ew,” he says haughtily. “It’s a very natural expression of the human body.”

  “And here we thought Lacey would remain a good girl until her wedding,” my father says in such a way that I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

  All I know is that I am out of here.

  “I’m going to go talk to mom,” I tell them and quickly hurry across the lawn to the BBQ where my mother is standing with a couple her age. Couples, couples, everywhere.

  My mother introduces me to Tai’s parents, Sebastian and Keri Wakefield. His father is just as tall and tanned and handsome as his son, his hair grey at the temples with a peppering of a mustache. It’s like looking into Tai’s future, and I like what I see.

  His mother is a lot shorter, brown skin, black hair, very pretty in an old-fashioned way, like nobility. The way she carries herself reminds me of a queen. And while his father is more quiet and stoic, a lot like his son, his mother is talkative and warm. I like her immediately.

  “So you’re the one that Tai went to pick up,” his mother says to me.

  “Guilty as charged,” I tell her.

  “I bet he was about as agreeable as a bag of cats,” she says with a cheeky smile.

  I can’t help laugh. “That’s a rather fitting analogy. But seriously, I’m so grateful he was able to give me the ride. I’ve been having a bit of bad luck lately, so it helped.”

  I don’t mention that the ride itself felt like a continuation of that bad luck, at least it did at the time.

  The funny thing is, even though that drive was hell of sorts, I felt way more comfortable with Tai in that truck than I do talking to most of the people here, and that includes my own sister. Tai’s a grump but there’s at least something real about him. He judges me, but he at least tells me he’s judging me.

  Don’t get carried away now, I remind myself. He’s a dick and he’ll make this trip miserable if you let him.

  Lord knows why there’s a part of me that wants to let him.

  Five

  Daisy

  As far as weddings go, I have to say my sister’s was pretty much perfect.

  Granted, we’ve only just made it through the ceremony, but I wasn’t sure what to expect. Weddings are always slightly chaotic, a drunken mix of bad blood and buried feelings, different friends and families mixing together, creating this soup of heightened emotions.

  I thought my own emotions were going to run away on me, especially when my father walked Lacey down the sandy aisle, the music swelling to a crescendo.

  She looked gorgeous, in a simple white strapless gown, no frills or gimmicks, but her glasses were off and her hair was pulled back into a chignon. She was smiling so broadly at Richard that I really felt the love between them. Obviously they do love each other, but they’re such odd personalities, and Lacey is so rarely affectionate, that seeing them practically gush at each other was affirming.

  And then of course there was my father, who looked so proud that my own heart sank a little. As completely and utterly selfish as it sounds, I wanted to be the one that made him look so happy. That look of pride doesn’t come easily from him.

  It’s not like I never thought about getting married. As I said, with Chris it did cross my mind a few times. I wasn’t exactly excited about the idea, but I figured if I had to settle down, then I guess it was best I do it with him.

  But that’s all over now, so there’s no use entertaining it.

  The last few days leading up to the wedding have actually been pretty good, as if making up for the rough start. I spent most of my time on the beach, sipping wine and slathering on SPF 50. Sometimes Lacey would ask me for some wedding advice, usually with regards to aesthetics, which I appreciated, other times I would be just hanging out with my parents and the Wakefields, which was time well spent.

  I also met some of Tai’s friends, who were a hell of a lot more down to earth than Lacey and Richard’s friends. Tai has been behaving, too. Maybe a little too well.

  In fact, I don’t think I even saw him up close until it was time for us to walk down the aisle together as best man and maid-of-honor. His gaze rested on my breasts for just a moment (it’s a low-cut halter, Lacey said I could choose whatever dress I wanted so as long as it was lilac, and I chose the one that played up my as
sets), then gave me the kind of smirk I wanted to wipe off his face. I hate guys that smirk. I hate the word smirk.

  “Trying to steal the attention from your sister?” he had asked glibly as he took my arm, and before I had a chance to even reply to that, we were going down the aisle.

  “Not my fault I like to look my best,” I told him out of the side of my mouth, smiling broadly for all the guests who were craning their necks in their seats, impatiently waiting for the bride. The wedding was set-up on the beach with seashells and vases of ferns lining the aisle, white chairs sinking into the sand.

  “I’m not complaining,” he said. “If you’re always the bridesmaid and never the bride, you might as well live that up.”

  It took everything in me not to jab him with my pointy gel nails. It would have been worth losing one of them. I don’t care that he was kind of right.

  Anyway, once we were up at the altar, everything went smoothly. The vows, as dorky as they were, were touching, and everyone hollered and cheered when Richard went to kiss the bride.

  I might have even shed a tear.

  “Daisy,” the wedding photographer, Mara, says to me. “We need you.”

  I’m currently sitting on a piece of driftwood on the beach, drinking a glass of rose champagne, feeling a buzz and gathering my thoughts. Down by the water, Mara was shooting endless pictures of Richard and Lacey, though I knew I’d be called in for some shots soon, so I didn’t stray too far.

  “We need the best man too,” Mara says, scanning the guests who have filled the beach and the Wakefield’s yard, standing around in their evening best and drinking.

  And there is Tai, talking to one of his friends, oblivious.

  “I’ll go get him,” I tell her, and head across the beach.

  When I get to Tai, both he and his friend—I think his name is Cam—stop talking and look me over. Tai’s expression doesn’t change and he manages to keep his eyes off my chest, staring at a point just past me, while Cam full-on ogles.

  Lord, I hope I don’t look like that when I’m looking at Tai.

  “So this must be the babe,” Cam says, elbowing Tai in the side.