She stared at him, then she shook her head and bit her lip. ‘You’re an idiot.’
‘With a PhD.’
‘And the kind of humility rarely seen in your generation.’
His mouth curved, but he didn’t smile. Didn’t feel like he deserved to yet.
‘You were also right.’
‘I know.’
Now he did smile. ‘I must have learnt my humility from you.’
Her gaze locked with his. ‘You can’t keep ignoring it.’ She paused. ‘I’m saying this to myself just as much as to you.’
His jaw clenched. ‘I need to ignore it for today.’
‘Except it doesn’t want to be ignored, does it?’ she asked. ‘You freaked out when I pretended like you were my boyfriend who was about to propose. You came to a wedding of people you know and care about, and you refused to attend it. Doesn’t that tell you you have an issue with weddings?’
‘With engagements,’ he corrected automatically.
The fight was still there, even though he’d already acknowledged he’d lost it. He wasn’t even sure what he was fighting against anymore, but he’d known the moment Jenny and Dave had seen him—and his stomach had dropped to the pits of the earth—that he’d lost.
‘Engagements,’ Angie repeated. ‘Why did you continue the farce of a proposal with Charles and Becky then?’
‘Because they remind me of my grandmother and grandfather,’ he said helplessly.
A part of him froze. He hadn’t meant to tell her that. He’d just figured that particular fact out for himself. Like he always did, he wanted to set it aside. Think it through when he had time. Or avoid it until he was strong enough to face it. Which made the fact that he answered her helplessly a little scary.
‘Okay. Why does that matter?’
‘It doesn’t.’ When she stared at him, he sighed. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Fine. Your choice.’
There was a long, expectant silence, and it messed with his head. It was the only reason he could think of for blowing out all the air in his lungs and answering her.
‘I didn’t want to disappoint them.’
She studied him. ‘Why do you think you would have disappointed them?’
Because they’d warned him about Liesel? First about his relationship with her, which his grandmother had claimed would go nowhere. Then about leaving with her, which his grandfather had called stupid. They were the best people he knew, and he’d already disappointed them before. Now he couldn’t help but feel like an idiot for not listening to them. Especially since it had happened exactly as they said it would.
Especially since they’d been right... Before.
He didn’t tell her that. And he couldn’t figure out if his reluctance was because it was private, or because it made him look like an idiot. He’d already established he felt like one.
‘You don’t have to talk,’ Angie said quietly. She was watching him, he realised, and wondered what she saw on his face. ‘I think you’ve faced it enough for now.’
He nodded, hoping she’d recognise it as a thank you. ‘Do you want to go inside?’
‘Yeah.’
They walked into the venue, an unexpected tension settling between them. Ezra was so caught by it that he almost didn’t notice how the hall looked. When his eyes adjusted, his eyebrows rose.
The room was decorated in greens and reds, with tinsel used wherever possible, and looked more like an elaborate Christmas party than a wedding. Tiny Christmas trees sat at the centre of each table and a large one stood behind the main table, adorned with bright and sparkly ornaments. There was a bored-looking man dressed as Father Christmas near the gift table, and a sprite-looking woman beside him, accepting guests’ gifts.
‘I...’ he started, but couldn’t find the words to describe what he was seeing.
‘Yeah, me, too,’ Angie replied, eyes wide. ‘You know how I said I wanted to see the inside of this venue to check if the wedding would be tacky?’ He nodded, and she continued, ‘I regret that.’
‘You might want to keep your voice down,’ he said when they got the evil eye from a couple walking past them. Angie grimaced.
‘Thanks.’ She looked around again. ‘Is this what you were teaching your students back in Grahamstown?’ she asked in a stage whisper now. ‘How to be—’ her whisper became genuine ‘—tacky?’
He grinned, noting that the tension between them had dissolved to a degree. ‘No. Actually, I’m surprised. Jenny’s tastes always seemed sophisticated.’
Angie made a face. ‘Doesn’t this change your mind then?’ She frowned. ‘Where are we supposed to sit?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘What’s the strategy?’
‘Wait until everyone takes a seat and check for two empty ones?’
Angie shrugged. ‘That’s probably our best bet.’
A few minutes later, the emcee announced that everyone should take their seats. Ezra’s eyes flitted across the room, hoping to find the empty seats, and he almost groaned aloud when he saw where the only two empty ones were.
‘Looks like we’re going to have to keep the façade going for a bit longer,’ he said, gesturing in the direction of their table. Angie looked over, sighed, but she nodded and they walked to their seats.
‘I thought you two said you didn’t know the bride and groom!’ Becky exclaimed as they sat.
‘Turns out Ezra did,’ Angie said with a smile. ‘And since Aunt—’ she leaned back, her head lowering as she took in the names on the cards in front of them ‘—Jackie and Uncle Jim couldn’t make it, Jenny and Dave invited us to stay.’
‘What good luck for you, son,’ Charles chimed in. ‘You must be thrilled to have some more time to propose at the wedding.’
‘Yeah. Exactly,’ Ezra said lamely, forcing a smile.
He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly it was about Charles and Becky that reminded him of his grandparents. It lay somewhere between how warm they were to complete strangers, and how affectionate they were with one another.
His grandparents had never shied away from affection. It had always been a point of extreme embarrassment and endearing sweetness. They didn’t care that their kisses and caresses might have been strange for their children and grandchildren to see. No, their love and showing it however they felt necessary had always been their priority.
It sent a wave of longing through him, thinking of it now. As it had many, many times before. As it had when he’d seen Becky and Charles earlier. It didn’t help that his parents had followed the example of his father’s parents with their relationship, though they were less into public displays of affection. But they were happy. In love. Steady. And for as long as Ezra could remember, that was what he wanted. What he thought he had.
What you blinded yourself into believing you had.
He was such a fool.
He distracted himself from the unsettling thoughts by focusing on the reception, forcing himself to be present. Forcing himself to enjoy the celebration of a union of two people he genuinely liked; two people he knew would be happy together. Their family’s and friends’ speeches made him see another side of them—just as the questionable décor of the hall had—however this time, it stirred something inside his chest.
Dave’s best man spoke of how much Dave had changed for the better since meeting Jenny. Jenny’s mother spoke about how Dave was the only person she considered good enough for her daughter. The new husband and wife did their speeches together, thanking their service providers and their family for the support. When they spoke of each other, the stirring in Ezra’s chest become a throb.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever found someone I like as much as Dave,’ Jenny said. ‘Which is a huge surprise to me considering how I felt when I met him. He was wearing a shirt at least two sizes too small for him.
’
‘I’d spilled coffee on my shirt,’ Dave said as the crowd laughed. ‘And my boss—’ he gestured over to Ezra ‘—was kind enough to let me wear one of his, which clearly, I’ve never lived down. Thanks for that, by the way.’
A little mechanically, Ezra smiled, lifting the glass of water he was drinking in cheers.
‘Regardless,’ Jenny continued, ‘I’ve forgiven him for that. Bonus is that I still like him, too.’
She smiled warmly up at Dave, who lowered his head and kissed his new wife. The crowd cheered, and Ezra told himself to do the same. Except he couldn’t. It was as if the lump in his throat had spread to his hands, too. He couldn’t lift them to do something as simple as cheer for the genuine love he saw in front of him.
Before he could admonish himself, a warm hand closed over his and he glanced at Angie. She was facing forward, her eyes on the couple, which he knew was more for his sake than because she was interested in what Jenny and Dave had to say. Which accomplished two things: one, it made him look a lot better since he wasn’t the only one not clapping now; and two, it had gratitude joining the throb in his chest as he wondered at her.
She’d known him for all of a few hours and yet somehow, she steadied him. Despite the fact that she forced him to be honest—that she made him see things about himself he hadn’t before—she steadied him. Even though she put a spotlight on all the issues he wanted to avoid, preventing him from keeping them in the dark, she steadied him.
He worried about what that meant. For him. For them. Because the warmth from her hand had spread through his entire body. It even heated a part of his heart that Liesel had frozen. Except what would that get him? Angie would be leaving him soon. Hell, she’d already be gone if it hadn’t been for the misunderstanding with her handbag.
No matter how grateful he was to her, for her, he needed to remember that. There was no use in unfreezing his heart if the remains of it stayed in a puddle in his chest. That’s what would happen once she left. And if he kept entertaining the crazy idea of them, he’d slip on that puddle and break something he didn’t think could be fixed again.
It was for the best that he didn’t think about a them. If he realised there was only a him and a her. An Angie and an Ezra. Two completely separate beings. Almost kiss, intense chemistry, undeniable pull be damned.
Chapter Nine
Something had changed.
That’s all Angie could think about when she looked at Ezra and saw the expression on his face. When she felt the angle of his body, away from hers. Her mind offered a reasonable explanation: he’d faced his fears. He’d seen that weddings weren’t as bad as he made them out to be in his mind, after his own experience.
But maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe she was projecting because that’s what she wanted him to feel. She didn’t want him to be suffering in the same way she was; with memories of his past, of his ex, of all the reasons he hadn’t wanted to attend the wedding in the first place.
Her grip on his hand tightened before she could stop it. When he moved his hand away, her fingers curled into a fist. She dropped the fist to her lap, hating how symbolic that move seemed. He was pulling away from her. And she had no choice but to watch it because she was drowning in her own stuff.
The memories of her past. Of the last time she’d seen her parents happy together. It had been at their house shortly before he’d passed away. Her father had looked like a man with a brain tumour. Frail from the various treatments he’d been put through to make the tumour smaller so it could be surgically removed. Strong because of the recent prognosis that none of what they’d done in the two years since they’d diagnosed him had worked.
Because even in that moment, facing the end of his life, her father had been thinking of her mother. He’d been strong for the woman he’d married because that’s what he’d signed up for. He’d done so willingly because he loved her.
Something that Angie apparently couldn’t claim considering she’d run away when her mother had needed her to be strong.
The day her parents had celebrated their last anniversary together, they’d been happy. In love. Exactly like Dave and Jenny were now. So, Angie tried to give herself a break for feeling like her heart was being crushed by mortar and pestle. She forgave herself for grabbing Ezra’s hand to comfort herself just as much as she wanted to comfort him. It was fine that something seemed to have changed. Not only for Ezra, but for them.
It was fine.
She almost sighed out loud when the waiters made their way to the tables with the starters. It was a sure sign that the speeches were over and the conversation could begin. Conversation meant distraction, and Angie desperately needed to be distracted from the fun way her mind was self-destructing.
‘How do you and Becky know Jenny and Dave?’ Angie asked Charles as a plate of mushroom risotto in the shape of a Christmas decoration was set in front of her.
‘Jenny’s grandmother is my sister.’
‘So you’re Great Uncle Charles?’
‘I am, though she only calls me Uncle.’ He gave her a sweet smile. ‘You could call me that, too, if you like. You would have to give me your name in return though.’
‘Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise...’ She wiped her mouth with a napkin and offered Charles her hand. ‘I’m Angie.’
‘Charles,’ he said, taking Angie’s hand. It felt a lot feebler than he looked. ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Angie.’
‘It’s lovely to meet you, too, Uncle Charles,’ she replied, and was pleasantly surprised to find it was true. Who would have thought the sexist old man—who she was convinced at one point had been stalking her—could be sweet, too? She was grateful she hadn’t told him exactly how she felt about him now.
She picked up her fork again, then realised she was supposed to be a part of a couple. ‘And this is Ezra.’
‘Yes, we caught his name when you two sat down,’ Becky said from where she sat next to Charles. ‘I’m Rebecca, but you two can call me Becky. None of that “auntie” nonsense, please. I’m too young to be an aunt.’ She winked at them, fluffing her completely grey hair.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
Angie grinned, and risked a look at Ezra. His head was down, his hand bringing up bites of food to his mouth at steady intervals. She wanted to nudge him, to tell him he needed to act interested. She thought better of it when she remembered how far she’d already pushed him that day. She turned back to Charles.
‘Are you from Caledon?’
‘We are. Our whole family grew up here. I think that’s why Jenny and Dave decided to have their wedding here. You must have wondered,’ Charles told her.
‘No, I wasn’t...’ Her voice faded when both Becky and Charles cocked their eyebrows. ‘Okay, fine. Maybe I thought about it. But only because I used to visit here with my parents.’
When Becky and Charles’s faces brightened, Angie wondered why she’d brought it up.
‘You visited the middle of nowhere with your parents?’ Becky asked, a teasing glint in her eyes. ‘Why?’
Angie glanced at Ezra again, hoping to send him a silent call for help, but he still wasn’t paying attention to them. She swallowed thickly.
‘My parents used to live here.’ Slowly, she cautioned herself. ‘Before I was born. We have family in East London. When we used to visit them, we’d almost always make a stop here. At the café, I mean. Then we’d get back on the road.’
There. That was a reasonable answer. It sounded steady, too.
‘Oh, how lovely!’ Becky exclaimed. ‘What’s your surname? Maybe Charles and I will recognise it.’
Oh, no.
‘It’s Roux?’
‘Roux,’ Charles repeated, those white brows furrowing together again. ‘I think I remember a young couple by the name of Roux. They had a dog named Trixie.’
Her heart, which had started at a
brisk walk when the conversation had begun was now flat-out sprinting. ‘Yeah, those were—’ she cleared her throat ‘—are my parents.’
‘Daniel and Charlene?’ Becky asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, they were lovely.’ Becky beamed. ‘So in love, too. How are they?’
The world slowed around her, the only thing moving at its normal pace was her heart. Except that normal was relative. Now, normal sounded like tribal drums in the middle of a forest. It echoed through her chest as emotion danced up into her throat.
In some reasonable, rational part of her mind, Angie knew this was bound to happen. She’d been running from it the longest time. Just as she’d told Ezra, she’d have to face it at some point, particularly since it had been chasing after her for just as long.
In that same reasonable, rational part of her mind, she knew it was bound to catch up with her that day. The writing had been on the wall, quite literally in the form of a Welcome to Caledon sign. In some ways, she’d stopped the running when she’d stopped at the lodge, too. Which explained the quota that had been exceeded. It explained the memories, the guilt, the grief.
The grief.
One of the major reasons she’d run away had been because of it. She couldn’t bear facing the way her usual life would change now that her father wasn’t here. She hadn’t wanted to visit her parents and see the empty chair where he used to sit. She hadn’t wanted to go out to restaurants where they’d usually gone as a family and answer questions about where her father was.
How could she face telling someone her father had passed away? She had barely faced it herself. And now the universe expected her to break the news to sweet, lovely people like Charles and Becky? They would no doubt sympathise with her. They would offer her kind words. Words she didn’t want. Words she didn’t deserve.
If she needed any more proof she’d pissed off the universe, she had a clear sign of it now.
‘They’re doing very well, thank you,’ she said before realising she’d spoken. She blinked. When panic threatened her entire being, she excused herself.
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