A Wedding One Christmas

by Therese Beharrie

  ‘Well, they probably broke up for a reason then.’

  ‘Yes. And now you’re his girlfriend.’ Jenny brightened, before frowning. ‘Which really makes you denying that you have a positive effect on him weird.’

  ‘Because I’m not his girlfriend.’ Angie wondered whether there were any rules against leaving a bride midconversation on her wedding day. But then she remembered it was rude to leave anyone midconversation—she sent a silent apology to the woman she’d done that to when she’d first been mistaken as part of the wedding—and nearly sighed. ‘I met Ezra today.’

  ‘What?’ Jenny asked, and then gave a sparkling laugh. ‘That explains a lot.’ She sucked in a breath. ‘I’m sorry, that must have sounded terribly patronising. And annoying. All of it.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I think my wedding day has turned off my empathy.’

  Angie smiled. ‘Today might be the one day you’ll get away with it.’

  ‘You’re probably right.’ Jenny’s face softened. ‘It means even more that you’re here now. And that you’ve helped him be here.’ She rested a hand on the one Angie had on the table, squeezing it before standing. ‘And if you’ll give me one more pass because I got married today?’ Angie gave a curt nod. ‘I do think you’re good for him. I’m willing to bet he’s good for you, too.’

  Angie opened her mouth to reply, but they were interrupted by a man onstage trying to get everyone’s attention. Which was good, too, since Angie had no idea what she would have said.

  Her heart was beating so fast she couldn’t quite catch what she was feeling; her mind laden with thoughts that made everything seem hazy. Which was the only reason she didn’t immediately object when they called for volunteers to play Mary and Jenny said, ‘Angie! Pick Angie!’

  * * *

  Watching karma do her thing was oddly satisfying.

  No, Ezra corrected himself with a grin. There was nothing odd about. There was just a deep, simple enjoyment at the fact that Angie was being urged into playing Mary in the ad-lib production of the nativity story. Much like she’d urged him into playing Father Christmas. Much like she’d intended on him playing some other character in the play.

  Karma was beautiful.

  When Angie realised the crowd wasn’t going to relent—he’d never appreciated the herd mentality more—her gaze met his. Help, it seemed to scream. But his smile only widened.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  He tilted his head.

  Her jaw clenched.

  He lifted a shoulder.

  She let out a breath, then gave him a sweet smile. A warning alarm sounded in his head, but he ignored it. The opportunity was too good to pass by because of the possibility of retaliation. Besides, he hadn’t done this. It had all been Jenny. Angie couldn’t blame him for enjoying the show.

  And yet the look she tossed him over her shoulder as she headed for the stage assured him she did.

  He waited as Jenny moved through her guests, offering their names for characters as they were called. Ezra had angled himself behind a food truck so that she wouldn’t see him. He only walked back to his table once all the roles had been filled. Then, with his beer in hand, he settled back to watch the show.

  It was absolutely terrible. It was also genius.

  None of the volunteers had been given costumes. Which meant that Angie was pretending to go into labour in her beautiful dress, surrounded by people making animal sounds in their Sunday best. There was one guy who clearly had no idea what was going on, which was almost certainly the result of alcohol. Whenever someone made an animal sound, he would follow.

  He was playing Joseph.

  The Three Wise Men had apparently followed Joseph into a bar, too, since they staggered across the stage and midway through the journey to see fake baby Jesus—thank heavens no one had had to volunteer for that role—they began to do the cancan. It was hilarious, but so incredibly inappropriate that everyone on stage and in the audience gaped before the giggles started.

  And from there, things really went downhill. People began singing Christmas carols at inappropriate times or in lieu of their lines. One of the Wise Men had nearly fallen off the stage during an enthusiastic leg extension. He had to be helped up by a number of other characters. During the rescue mission, Joseph decided that it would be a good time to neigh loudly, sending a wave of surprise through everyone on—and offstage. Naturally, that led to a renewed rescue effort when the surprise caused the Wise Man to fall again.

  Genius, Ezra thought again. He tilted his beer toward Angie in a cheers when she caught his gaze.

  * * *

  Oh, she was going to kill him.

  It wasn’t directly Ezra’s fault that she was playing the Virgin Mary. However, she was attending the wedding because of him. He was the reason she was on Jenny’s radar. Ergo, she could still blame him. And she intended to, particularly after she saw the smug expression on his unbearably handsome face.

  She was distracted from planning her revenge when Joseph appeared at her side. She took a step back—he obviously wasn’t a reliable acting partner—and his face turned wounded.

  ‘Mary,’ he said solemnly. ‘Why don’t you like me?’

  She blinked. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? And then she tilted her head, thought what the hell and sat on a pile of hay.

  ‘Well, Joseph, you’re never home.’ She sighed dramatically. ‘You spend most of your time in the tavern, you take me on a long journey in my ninth month of pregnancy, and you didn’t even have the decency to book us a place to stay. How else am I supposed to feel about you?’

  Joseph looked stricken. She wasn’t sure if it was in character or whether the man hadn’t anticipated this response to his tipsy question.

  ‘But...you’re my wife.’

  ‘I’m also about to be a mother.’ On cue, she panted, placing a hand on her back. She immediately stopped when she began talking again. ‘And you’re doing the cancan with three men you’ve only just met.’

  ‘They’ve come to meet the baby.’

  ‘You think that’s okay? You’re fine with three strange men coming all this way to see this baby?’

  ‘One of them might be the biological father.’

  Her eyes widened and she bit her lip. She knew she’d gone off script slightly, but she hadn’t expected Joseph to pull out the receipts.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘The biological father is much more impressive than these men.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ One of the Wise Men stepped forward. ‘We’re all very impressive.’

  The nerve.

  ‘Didn’t you just fall off the stage?’

  Someone snorted loudly; someone else gave a whoop. She hid her smile.

  ‘We’re still impressive,’ the Wise Man grumbled.

  She sighed at the fragile ego. ‘Of course you are. Though technically, you need to be impressive somewhere. You and your impressively wise friends only come visit when there’s actually a baby to visit.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’ They shuffled off stage.

  With a sigh, Angie gave birth, her drunk husband at her side.

  * * *

  She was fascinating to watch, he had to give her that.

  Though Ezra gave it freely, since it really wasn’t a concession. He loved looking at her. He loved hearing her sarcastic drawl, and how she didn’t let anyone get away with being stupid, including him. She stood out whether she was the only sober person in a Christmas play or whether she was the only person in front of him in the woods.

  She stood out.

  It seemed too simple to attribute it to her beauty. Or to the fact that she seemed in control even when she clearly wasn’t. In a play where everything was chaos, or in the woods, when she was crying. Perhaps it was a combination of it. Of her steadiness, her beauty.

  Or perhaps it was because he was drawn to her. Inexplic
ably, stupidly. She demanded his attention; greedily, he gave it. Somehow he knew he’d always give it.

  When applause erupted around him, he forced his thoughts away from their disturbing path and clapped along with the crowd. Then he pushed forward, ready to give Angie whatever she asked from him. And worried about the fact that she seemed to ask it without saying a single word.

  * * *

  ‘This might be the last wedding I ever attend,’ Angie said after they’d been asked to return to the hall for dessert and the remaining formalities.

  There were so many people making their way back through the narrow pathway between the field and the lodge’s property, an informal line had formed. She and Ezra were at the end of it; they’d hung back to give themselves some air. And distance. She’d spent much too much time entertaining strangers for the day. She needed to breathe with some familiarity.

  Ezra’s familiar?

  She refused to indulge the concerning thought, instead focusing on the arch of the pathway. Lights had been strung around it since the last time they’d used it. She wondered if that had always been the plan, or if someone had forgotten their responsibility and had hastily tried to make up for it.

  As they walked through the arch and down the steps, Angie saw that the ground had been covered with confetti. The shrubs that enclosed the path had been decorated with lights now, too. She probably wouldn’t have become as close with them if they’d looked like this earlier, she thought, amusing herself.

  Still, she lifted a hand and lightly brushed her fingers over them as they walked.

  ‘The wedding hasn’t been that bad,’ Ezra said.

  ‘Been converted, have you?’

  He chuckled. For a while, they didn’t say anything. Once they arrived at the reception hall, he spoke.

  ‘I think the nativity play’s the reason for my conversion.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘No, really. It was the highlight of my day.’

  She angled her head. ‘It was better than what your mouth did this—’

  ‘Angie,’ he said quickly when they saw Charlie and Becky heading toward them from the dessert station.

  ‘A simple yes or no, Doctor.’ She smiled sweetly.

  ‘No. It wasn’t better than that.’

  Satisfied with the spark in his eyes—less so with the answering fire in her belly—she turned to smile at Becky and Charles when the couple reached them.

  ‘You were lovely as Mary, dear,’ Becky said, smiling at her. ‘So witty. It really made this year’s play the best in recent years.’

  Angie opened her mouth, and quickly shut it again as Ezra chuckled beside her.

  ‘Thank you, Becky.’

  ‘Just telling the truth.’

  Angie could see that she was, which was concerning. That play had been an absolute disaster. Maybe that was the point?

  ‘You two get some dessert,’ Becky said with a pat on Angie’s arm. ‘We’ll see you when you’re done.’

  Nodding, they went over to the desserts. The table was decked out with a wide variety of deliciousness: cheesecakes, fridge tarts, jelly, custard, trifle, Malva pudding, ice cream, and some healthier options she ignored. She took a plate and cut herself portions of two different varieties of cheesecake, before adding one large portion of pineapple fridge tart to the plate.

  Setting that down on the table, she took a bowl and dished herself a piece of Malva pudding before pouring some custard over it. When she was done, she picked up her plate and turned back to Ezra. He was staring at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s...a lot,’ he said after a moment.

  ‘Yeah. It’s dessert.’ She shrugged.

  ‘You ate a significant amount of food earlier. How do you have space for all that?’

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘Firstly, would you ask me that if I were a man? Uh uh,’ she said when panic fluttered across his face. ‘You have to check your bias if you want to be a good women’s studies lecturer.’ Her tone dripped with irony.

  He sighed. ‘Fine. I probably would have thought it, but I wouldn’t have said it.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Her eyes narrowed even further before she shook it off. ‘Secondly, everyone knows there’s a separate stomach for dessert. No matter how much food I eat, there’s always space for dessert.’

  His eyes widened and he laughed. Just as it had when she’d seen him walk toward her after the play had ended, her stomach flipped. And then her heart got in on the action, thudding so hard she could have sworn it was sending Morse code to Ezra’s.

  Her reaction to him was becoming more and more ridiculous, but she was helpless to stop it. It had even shut out her nerves. She stilled, searching for them. They were still fluttering around the edges of her body. No doubt waiting for her to realise that she wouldn’t always be so completely immersed in the present.

  ‘Come on,’ she said after a moment. ‘I don’t want to be one of those people standing at the dessert table when they start with the formalities again.’

  Ezra smirked but he got his dessert—admittedly, less than hers—and they made their way back to their own table.

  It was strange, but somehow eating dessert at a wedding, laughing with a man she had complicated feelings for and two quirky old people felt like it was exactly what she should be doing.

  It could have been because she was avoiding thinking about going home, but her lungs felt a little looser. Angie chose to believe that for that moment, that was enough.

  Shortly after she finished her dessert, the emcee announced that the newlyweds were ready to share their first dance. Angie turned with the rest of the guests to watch Jenny and Dave. Her lungs tightened again when the thought brought images of all the times her father had drawn her mother into an embrace when a song he’d liked had played.

  She took a deep breath and told herself to deal with it.

  It didn’t work as well as she’d hoped. What else was new? She was glad when Jenny and Dave finished and the rest of her guests were invited to join them on the floor. She frowned when Ezra rose and, after bowing slightly, offered her his hand.

  ‘Shall we?’

  ‘I want to say no, but I feel like that might make you look bad.’

  She amused him with that, but there was something else on his face that had the cells in her body on full alert.

  ‘Humour me,’ he said.

  She swallowed and stood, because she was helpless not to. And then she was being drawn into his arms and into her own romance.

  Heaven help her.

  And it did seem to help her, to an extent. She didn’t immediately lose herself in his intoxicating scent, even though it had her mouth watering. She didn’t immediately tremble at the feel of his arms around her body, even though it was as seductive as it was comforting. She even managed to keep herself from asking him to take her back to his room. To seduce her until she forgot that they’d only just met and that having these thoughts was nonsensical.

  Specifically that she, Angie Roux, was having these thoughts was inconceivable. Yet there she was. She of the Controlled Emotions and Guarded Hearts was thinking about how the sway of their bodies together felt like the start of something. About how the contact of their bodies, their torsos touching, their arms around one another, their fingers threaded through the other’s, felt more like foreplay than their earlier kisses had.

  She didn’t want to look at him. Into those gorgeous eyes that told her things before his words could. That saw things before she could say them. She didn’t want to see the desire there. She didn’t have to, considering she could feel it pressing against her belly, an answer throbbing through her body. More importantly, she didn’t want him to see her own desire. Not because she was ashamed of it, but because of the desperation of it. Desperation that had fear joining with desire.

  She drew a ragged breath whe
n the next song had an upbeat tempo. Stepped away from Ezra on another breath. A grateful one, because she’d been able to step away from him. Because she’d been able to step away from him and maintain her dignity.

  She moved toward the table, but Ezra caught her hand and initiated the back-and-forth step dance that was popular in South Africa. She followed without comment, though she nearly laughed in surprise when he twirled her around, before effortlessly leading her back into the main steps of the dance.

  It was another thing she hadn’t expected from him. As her mind told her to check her own bias—attractive men could dance—a kwaito song started and she nodded her head toward the table. What she and Ezra had just done was one thing, but kwaito dancing required a level of skill she didn’t think he had.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

  ‘Back to the table.’

  He frowned. ‘Why?’

  Unsure of how to make ‘because I don’t want you to embarrass yourself’ sound good, she said, ‘I’m tired.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ he answered with a grin. ‘You’re underestimating my abilities. I’m offended.’

  ‘Oh, no, I—’ she started, and felt her words dry up when his legs started to move to the beat.

  Check your bias, indeed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  If ever he was grateful for all the times he’d practised his dance moves as a child, it was now. Satisfaction filled him when Angie’s jaw dropped; amusement joined when she shut her mouth again almost as quickly.

  As he got lost in the music, he realised how long ago he’d done something like this. How long ago he felt like this. Happy. Free. Dancing brought him both, and yet he didn’t do it nearly enough. When he had, he hadn’t had a partner to join him.

  Now, he pulled Angie in, tapping her hip with his hand, indicating that she should follow his lead. But she only narrowed her eyes, gave him a shake of her head, before launching into her own dance moves. He laughed when she wiggled her eyebrows at him, and they danced together, imitating each other’s moves. It was the most fun he’d had in years. Years.