She lifted a hand to his cheek, smiled again. ‘I have faith someone who managed to make me feel so much better about my own life is the kind who’ll learn from their mistakes.’
Her hand dropped. ‘Goodbye, Ezra. It was lovely meeting you.’
She walked away.
* * *
It was the dramatic walkaway Angie had always wanted to do. In her imagination, Angie had been walking away from a man who’d done her wrong. The path she’d walked on had been paved with pride and a sense of accomplishment. And she’d be walking to her future with her head high and her shoulders straightened.
There was none of that now.
No now, Angie was overwhelmed by the disappointment, the sadness, the regret. There was also a deep sense that she was making a mistake. Because the man she was walking away from hadn’t done her wrong. Hell, he was the first thing that had felt right since she’d come home. Since she’d left. Since long before.
Her footsteps faltered on the gravel road; her breath came too quickly. Was she making a mistake? Was she walking away from something important? Would she look back on this day and wonder what would have happened if she’d stayed? If she’d faced the drum of fear that had mentally provided a beat for her steps back to her car?
No, she told herself. There was no way she could do this. There was no way she could entertain this. Any of it. Yes, she’d spent a few hours in Ezra’s company. Yes, she’d felt muscles she hadn’t even known had been bunched inside her relax. Yes, she’d taken a walk with him, had been in a parade with him, had felt festive with him.
That didn’t change that the time she’d spent with him had been in a world that would never exist for her. That could never exist for her. And she had to recognise that that was the very reason staying was so appealing.
Why wouldn’t she want to stay in a world where she didn’t have to worry about her family? About whether her mother was angry at her for leaving? About whether her sisters held grudges about what they’d been left with?
The closer she’d got to Cape Town, the louder those questions had got in her mind. Was her mother angry at her? Did her sister hold grudges? And along with the volume, the guilt had grown. She’d felt her family’s disappointment consuming her; she’d felt her grief suffocating her. She’d stopped at a place that held positive memories of her family in hopes that the guilt, the disappointment, the grief would disappear.
Naïvely, she thought now, feeling those emotions pierce through the film of pretence she’d established with Ezra. But then, that wasn’t quite right either. She’d been honest with him. More honest than she’d ever been with anyone before. More honest than she’d been with herself for the longest time.
She wasn’t staying at the café to avoid her family anymore. Well, not only because she wanted to avoid the inevitable awkwardness of their reunion. No, her reasons had changed. Grown. Now it included whatever had been happening between her and Ezra.
But it couldn’t. Not when the disappointment, the sadness, the regret—and now, confusion, too—were still there. She had to leave. She had to keep moving. She had to be brave. And then she got to her car, reached to her side to get the keys out of her handbag, and realised it wasn’t there.
Panic thrummed in her blood before she remembered where it was. Oh, great. She’d put her handbag in Ezra’s car before their walk. Why she hadn’t realised it until that moment was beyond her. Or not, she thought, and cursed silently as her mind reminded her of its recent turmoil.
She closed her eyes, let herself stew in it for a moment, then headed back to Ezra’s car to wait for him. She’d barely reached her destination when she saw him.
Her eyes greedily took him in, as if it had been years since she’d last seen him and not minutes. Minutes, Angie. Even with the chiding voice in her head, she couldn’t stop looking. At the shirt over broad shoulders. At the easy way his blue jeans sat on his hips, stretched across legs that didn’t belong on a lecturer, but an athlete. His hair looked like he ran his hands through it too many times; his face carved into features that made ‘perfect’ seem too inadequate a description.
Her lips curved as she thought of all the students who took his women’s studies classes. Were they interested in the issues, or were they merely enthralled by their lecturer? She wouldn’t blame them. She might have been tempted to change her major if Ezra had been her lecturer...
She offered him a small smile when he saw her, only then noticing he wasn’t alone. He clearly had some effect on her. Especially since his companions were the reason they met in the first place.
‘Angie. Why are you still here?’
‘My handbag’s in the boot of your car,’ she said, smiling at the newlyweds. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you,’ the bride—Jenny—beamed at her. ‘Are you with Dr. Johnson?’
‘Doctor... Oh, Ezra.’
‘Yes, Ezra,’ Jenny said, nudging her new husband in the ribs. ‘Are you two together?’
Ezra’s eyes met Angie’s; neither of them answered.
She pulled her gaze from his. Cleared her throat. ‘Why does it seem like you all know each other?’
‘Because we do,’ Jenny answered with a grin. ‘I was one of Dr. Johnson’s PhD candidates.’
‘And I was his TA,’ Jenny’s husband, Dave, spoke for the first time.
‘Really?’ She lifted an eyebrow at Ezra. He avoided her gaze, and was that a blush she saw spreading across his cheeks? Resisting the smile the image brought to her lips, she turned her attention back on the newlyweds. ‘You know, a marriage born in women’s studies is not quite as common as you’d think.’
‘No.’ Jenny laughed. ‘But this one turned out okay in the end.’ She turned and kissed her husband on the lips. It was a small, sweet gesture that had Angie longing for things she hadn’t realised she wanted. She purposefully avoided looking at Ezra this time.
‘So,’ she said after a moment. ‘My handbag. You can, er, have the donuts.’
He was still holding the box, and Angie thought she saw a ghost of a smile on his lips. ‘Thanks. I’ll get it for you,’ Ezra said. He opened the boot of his car. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she said politely. ‘I didn’t remember either.’
She waited for him to get her bag, and murmured a ‘thank you’ when he handed it to her. His fingers brushed against hers as he did, the feeling going right through her body. It rocked her, almost as much as the thought that she didn’t want this to be the last she had of him. Of them. A brush of the hand she would think about for the rest of her life.
She put the bag over her shoulder and took a step back, hoping distance would help her escape the pull she felt toward him.
It didn’t.
‘Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of the wedding.’
‘Join us,’ Jenny said, her arm around Dave’s waist.
‘What? No, I couldn’t.’
‘As Dr. Johnson’s date,’ Dave continued from his wife. ‘Maybe if you agree, he’ll actually take us up on our offer this time.’
This time?
‘Like I said,’ Ezra said, ‘you’re both so kind, but I can’t.’ His eyes met Angie’s before he continued. ‘We can’t. We’d be taking up space you didn’t account for.’
‘Only because you didn’t RSVP when we invited you,’ Jenny scolded.
‘It was a—’ Ezra broke off, blew out a breath before giving them an easy smile. Angie saw through it. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I’m not here to gatecrash your wedding. I’d forgotten it was even going to be here,’ he said, running a hand through his hair.
Angie narrowed her eyes, but didn’t say anything. Even though all of this was suspicious. Ezra didn’t seem the type to forget things, especially of this magnitude. In the time she’d known him—which admittedly, had been quite short—everything he’d done had seeme
d deliberate. How was it that he happened to be at a wedding that a) he knew the bridal couple of, and b) he’d been invited to?
Something didn’t add up. The longer she looked at him, and the longer he avoided looking at her, the stronger that suspicion became. Until finally her mind offered her a ridiculous answer to all her questions. Which in turn sparked an even more ridiculous idea in her head.
Ezra didn’t want to attend this wedding because he was afraid.
This was simply conjecture, but Angie was pretty confident in her conclusion. Ezra must have known about this wedding. He must have come here and changed his mind about attending—though, apparently, he had never RSVP’d, so she wasn’t quite sure of the details of that. But she was fairly certain he was here for a reason. He was just too afraid to face it.
Afraid of being confronted with the end of his own relationship. Afraid of facing how it made him feel about weddings. So, she would offer to stay with him. To stay and help him face his fears. Maybe, it would make him feel better about going home. About moving on. She wanted that for him, didn’t she? She was doing this for him.
Why then did a voice in her head ask her if she was doing it for herself? It wasn’t like she wanted to stay.
Okay, fine, she wanted to stay.
To help him, yes, but also to help herself. Delaying her reconciliation with her family would give her a chance to escape the cloud of disappointment. It had loomed over her even more ominously after she decided to go home. Besides, this was easier. She’d rather face his issues than her own.
It wasn’t as if it were hurting anyone. Her family wasn’t expecting her until the next day; another strategic move that had made her feel as if she had more control over the situation. When she’d decided to do it that way, she’d told herself it was to give her an evening to acclimatise to being back in Cape Town. Just like she’d given herself a month to acclimatise to being back in South Africa.
She ignored the reality of it. Of the fact that it wasn’t even the disappointment that had her feeling so reluctant. It was the fact that she’d be returning to her family home and her father wouldn’t be there. For the first time, she’d be going home and he wouldn’t be there to greet her.
She sucked in a breath. Hoped it would steady the nerves in her stomach. But it had almost no effect. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell the people around her she needed to go and find some place where she could panic in peace. Except that when she looked at Ezra, when she saw the concern on his face, it calmed the fluttering in her stomach more than the air ever could have.
Go, now, her inner voice commanded her. Run away from him before it’s too late.
‘Please, Dr. Johnson,’ Jenny pleaded. ‘You’re the reason Dave and I are together in the first place. We want you here, and you wouldn’t be taking up space. Dave’s aunt fell ill a few days ago, so she and her husband couldn’t attend. We didn’t have time to do anything about it.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘If it’s because you need a date,’ Angie said softly. ‘I think that can be arranged.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘You’re offering to be my date? To a wedding?’
‘I think I am, Doctor.’
They held each other’s gazes. Words passed between them in that look.
You don’t have to do this.
I do. We both do.
She didn’t know how long they stood like that before Ezra turned to Jenny and Dave.
‘We’re in.’
Jenny squealed and before Angie knew it, she was being pulled into an enthusiastic hug. ‘Thank you,’ Jenny whispered in Angie’s ear. Angie frowned, before plastering a smile on her face when Jenny pulled back.
‘I’m going to freshen up and then Dave and I will make our big entrance,’ Jenny announced. ‘An hour later than expected, but then, who could have anticipated how gorgeous this place would be? We had to take photos wherever we could.’
With one last beam at Angie and Ezra, Jenny walked away, Dave following dutifully behind her. Silence followed their departure. Angie resisted shifting her weight between her legs.
‘Um,’ she said with the silence became too much. ‘Am I the only one who wanted to tell Jenny that anyone could have anticipated how beautiful a setting this is? Or that she should have anticipated how gorgeous this place would be?’
The corner of his mouth lifted. ‘No.’ Silence stretched again. This time, he broke it. ‘This messes up your plans. You’re going to get stuck in traffic now, for sure.’
‘I’ll leave after rush hour winds down and miss it altogether.’
‘You don’t mind driving in the dark?’ Ezra asked, but Angie heard the real question.
Why didn’t you do that in the first place?
‘I’m not a big fan of it after already driving four hours to get here. But resting will probably give me enough energy to make the drive. Besides,’ she said casually, ‘it’s for a good cause.’
‘And what cause is that?’
‘Getting you over your fear of weddings.’
Chapter Eight
Ezra didn’t answer immediately. ‘I’m not afraid of weddings.’
‘Sure you are,’ she replied easily. ‘Unless there’s another reason you’re here when you didn’t RSVP to Jenny and Dave?’
‘Yes. I had...’
He frowned, trying to think of a way to describe what he knew looked illogical. How could he explain what had gone through his mind when he’d got the invitation to Jenny and Dave’s wedding? He’d still been in Grahamstown teaching, and the invite had been left on his desk by the faculty’s secretary. He remembered looking at it and feeling a burst of happiness that his students had found love together.
Then he’d gone back to feeling sorry for himself.
Needless to say, he’d got the invitation a couple of weeks after his breakup. ‘Feeling sorry for himself’ had entailed crumpling up the paper, throwing it in the bin, then fishing it out again.
Try illogical and pathetic.
He’d stuck the invitation on his wall after that. It had been a sick reminder of how things could have turned out with Liesel. He hadn’t RSVP’d, and yet, when he’d been making his plans to return to Cape Town, something had compelled him to pick up the phone and make arrangements to stay at the lodge on the day of the wedding.
He only regretted it when he arrived and saw people preparing for the celebration. He decided to hide in the café and work until he could make his escape back to his room for the night. And the moment he lost his mind would be but a blimp on the radar of his poor decisions.
It would have worked, too, if it hadn’t been for Angie.
The irrationality of his decision was suddenly joined by an irrational anger.
‘Anytime now,’ Angie said, but her words were soft. Patient. And fanned the fire of his anger.
‘I forgot about it,’ Ezra said, edgy.
‘Sure you did.’
‘I’m not going to argue with you about this.’
‘Because you know I’m right.’ There was a pause. ‘Because you’re afraid of weddings.’
‘I am not—’ He gritted his teeth. ‘Look, let’s just go inside and take our seats before Jenny and Dave come back.’
‘You sound angry, Doctor,’ she said instead of answering him.
‘I am...frustrated by this conversation.’
‘You’re frustrated because I’m right.’
‘I’m not afraid of weddings,’ he snapped. His tolerance for the interrogation he was apparently under did, too.
Angie studied him. ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘but you didn’t forget about this wedding either.’
‘What do you want from me, Angie?’ he asked. ‘Do you want me to tell you I came here on purpose? That I was compelled by who knows what to book a stay at the exact lodge Jenny and Dave were getting married at on t
he day they were getting married?’
‘Yes.’ Her eyes never wavered from his face. ‘Were you?’
‘You’re infuriating.’
‘I’m right. Why won’t you admit that?’
‘Because I don’t want to talk about it. You of all people should respect that.’
Her head reared back, and for the first time since they started this conversation, she seemed ruffled. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means you’ve run away from anything remotely emotional since you’ve been here.’
‘That’s not... I do not...’
‘You do,’ he said. ‘When we spoke about your parents at the top of that hill? When you asked me about what broke up my relationship? When you lied to me and said you were okay during the parade?’
There were other instances he could name, but he’d made his point.
‘I... I...’ she stammered, looking genuinely stricken. The anger in his stomach melted into a pool of disgust. At himself.
‘Angie,’ he said, rubbing a hand over his face, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—’
‘No,’ she interrupted, lifting a hand. ‘Just... Give me a moment.’
She closed her eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. Doing so revealed a wealth of pain that had the disgust flowing into his veins, pounding along with his heart.
‘I’m not saying you’re wrong,’ she said, choosing her words as if she were navigating a minefield. ‘But—’ she swallowed ‘—you’re lashing out. And I’m not going to lay out my issues so that you can use them as a bridge to walk over yours.’
There was a long pause.
‘I know this probably isn’t the right time to bring this up,’ he said, ‘but that was a striking image.’
A Wedding One Christmas Page 9