by Nicola Marsh
If Avery and Barton had been stand-in grooms after she’d fallen for Jared first time around, what guy had a chance of coming close to that role this time?
She loved him wholeheartedly, unreservedly.
He was The One.
The One her mum had talked about, had demonstrated with her love for her father every day of their lives.
She wanted that. She deserved that. Now, courtesy of one stubborn, commitment-phobe, she’d never have it. For if there was one thing she’d learned out of this fiasco, it was never to settle. Meaning she’d end up a scary spinster living in a tiny apartment with about a hundred cats.
Okay, so that cliché would never come to fruition, as she was allergic to the furry cuties, but she could see it happening: her, old, alone, flipping through the scrapbook and wishing for what might have been.
Turning her back on the scrapbook, she headed for the kitchen before a loud pounding on her door stopped her dead in her tracks.
She’d farewelled Meg, had finished up at the office, so who was trying to break her door down with their incessant pounding?
‘Open up, Krissie, I know you’re in there.’
Her nerve endings snapped to attention at the familiar voice, her heart clenching in recognition.
She’d said goodbye, didn’t want to talk to him, for they had nothing left to say.
As the pounding resumed she knew she had to open the door. If she didn’t, and sent him away, she’d for ever wonder why he’d come.
Assuming her best indifferent face, she opened the door.
‘You’re leaving,’ he blurted, his frantic gaze falling on her suitcases, his handsome face haggard.
‘Yeah, you already know that.’
‘But you brought your departure date forward. I almost missed you!’
She’d never seen him anything other than gorgeous and the fact he looked so awful went a small way to soothing her aching heart.
So he cared about her? Big deal. She wanted beyond caring, would never settle for anything else ever again.
‘Can I come in?’
Shrugging, she opened the door wider. He stalked into the room, hands thrust in pockets, shoulders slumped, as if he had the weight of the world on them.
Quashing a surge of pity he didn’t deserve, she crossed her arms, propped on the back of the sofa.
‘What do you want?’
His gaze met hers, feverish, determined.
‘I want you.’
Her heart gave a delighted wiggle before she gave it the proverbial whack. She already knew he wanted her; he’d proved that—and how!—the last night on the island. Problem was he didn’t want her enough.
‘Doesn’t change anything—’
‘I’m in love with you!’
Every muscle in her body stilled, along with her heart, as the words she’d been longing to hear filtered over her, processed in her brain, yet came up with a ‘this does not compute’ message.
How could he love her when he’d spent weeks trying to convince her otherwise?
Curious, she eyeballed him. ‘Why now? You’ve had weeks to tell me how you really feel?’
Dragging a hand through his hair, he started pacing. ‘I don’t blame you for being sarcastic. I’ve been an idiot.’
‘You got that right.’
He didn’t halt, his long strides sweeping up and down her apartment.
‘Stop that, you’re giving me a headache.’
He stopped so suddenly in front of her she didn’t have time to react when he swept her into his arms and squeezed the life out of her.
Burying his face in the crook of her shoulder, he murmured, ‘I love you. And I’m sorry for putting you through all that crap while I realised it.’
Every cell in her body screamed to give in, to wrap her arms around him and never let go. But words were cheap; and she’d heard them all from this guy and more.
Allowing herself the luxury of momentarily melting into his embrace, she blinked back tears, steadied her resolve, before gently pushing away.
‘Apology accepted.’
His eyes lit up, until she added, ‘But it doesn’t change a thing.’
Slipping out of his personal space, she strode to the door, gave a suitcase a little kick.
‘I’m still leaving and your declaration doesn’t change that.’
‘I see.’
His devastated expression ripped a new hole in her heart, the bleakness in his eyes stabbing another.
‘Do you? Really?’
She leaned against the door, mustered every ounce of strength she possessed. She’d need it, to walk away from him once and for all.
‘I love you, I’ve always loved you. And you still walked away from me.’
Taking a deep breath, she deliberately calmed, banishing the hysterical edge to her voice.
‘This time, I’m walking away and not looking back.’
Incredulity creased his face. ‘So this is payback?’
He would think that. Had nothing she said registered?
‘This is me taking control. This is me following my dream, my career. Surely you of all people can understand that?’
She scored a direct hit with her last comment as he nodded, defeated.
He swiftly crossed to the door and, seeing his intent to sweep her into his arms again, she held up both hands to ward him off.
‘Goodbye, Jared.’
He hesitated, before swooping in for a blistering kiss that left her tingling all the way down to her toes.
‘I’m not going to give up on us,’ he murmured, tipping her chin up, maintaining eye contact until she squirmed to escape the burning intensity.
She didn’t say, ‘You already did.’
Desperate to put some space between them, she headed for the kitchen. ‘I need tea.’
Metaphoric speak for ‘I need time to think, to assimilate, to process the fact you love me.’
‘Want a cuppa?’
‘Great.’
By his relieved grin, he expected her to thaw. Not likely. He loved her, she loved him. But she couldn’t stop the insidious thought this was his way of issuing an unspoken ultimatum: him or her career.
Maybe it was some warped kind of payback? A thought she discounted in a second. She knew what type of guy he was, and playing games off court wasn’t his forte. Whatever his reasoning for blurting his feelings now, she desperately needed time to think, desperately needed a soothing cuppa.
The way she was feeling, hopefully the tea leaves would make more sense of her swirling thoughts than she could.
The moment Jared had stepped into Kristi’s immaculate apartment and seen those suitcases, his heart sank.
He’d prepared a speech about long-distance relationships and giving them a try, had wanted to convince her of his feelings, yet when he’d spied those cases all his plans had exploded in a bungled blurted admission he loved her.
He didn’t blame her for being cynical. Considering what he’d been saying the last few weeks, he wouldn’t believe him either.
Thankfully, she’d needed time out, had fled to the kitchen, giving him valuable space to regroup, marshal his thoughts and hope to God he convinced her to take a chance on them when she returned.
He wandered around her small lounge room, checking out photos, loads and loads of the things depicting a happy family and more recent pics of her and Meg.
In every photo, her parents had their arms wrapped around each other, her dad resting his head on her mum’s, their strong bond evident. Kristi and Meg were beaming in every picture. They’d had the perfect upbringing, with parents who loved each other and obviously adored their girls.
Little wonder Kristi had some pie-in-the-sky idea about love and what it entailed.
Turning his back on the photos, he perused her bookshelf, housing everything from thrillers to historical romance.
He loved books, had hid out at the local bookshop as a kid—another escape from his parents—happily spending hours in the
re, skimming titles, reading blurbs but preferring cartoon magazines, eager to get lost in a world of make believe that was so much better than reality.
Tugging on the latest legal thriller to scan the blurb, he dislodged a stack of books from the top shelf, several tumbling out, knocking more off lower shelves in their journey before landing at his feet.
Squatting, he picked them up, his gaze landing on a giant scrapbook that must’ve fallen off the bottom shelf.
He wouldn’t have noticed it if not for the picture of a young Kristi stuck on the front cover, next to the words ‘MY WEDDING’.
Suppressing a shudder, he quickly glanced over his shoulder before flipping it open.
Then wishing he hadn’t.
Page after page of white gowns and floral bouquets and towering cakes.
Scraps of lace and satin, old wedding invitations, saved cake bags.
Bad enough in their own right, until he came upon the last few pages…
‘My Dream Wedding.’
He shouldn’t have looked, should’ve snapped the scrapbook shut and shoved it back into the bookcase but, drawn by curiosity, he flipped the page.
And his heart stopped.
There, amidst the pictures of a simple white floor-length gown, a two-carat princess-cut bezel diamond ring and a two-tiered white with black piping cake resembling a fancy hat, was a photo.
Of him.
‘You want cookies with your tea?’
He jumped at her voice drifting from the kitchen, bundled the scrapbook and the remainder of the books back into the bookcase and stood quickly.
‘No, thanks, I’m good.’
But he wasn’t. Seeing him in the role of her groom had shattered every preconceived notion he’d ever had.
She thought he was her perfect groom.
He couldn’t be further from it if he tried.
His first instinct was to run. Run as fast and as far as he could.
Then his gaze resettled on the scrapbook and he closed his eyes, seeing every page in crystal-clear clarity as he mentally flipped the pages.
Those pages filled with wedding memorabilia must’ve taken a long time, must’ve taken patience and care from a woman who valued an institution as old as time.
As for her chosen dress and cake and ring, someone as special as Kristi deserved those beautiful things, deserved to have the fairy tale come true.
In that second, his eyes snapped open. What the hell was he doing? He’d come here to prove his love, to convince her to try a long-distance relationship, to let her know he’d finally opened his heart enough to consider the possibility of marriage, despite the fact it scared him silly.
So why on earth would he take one look at her wedding scrapbook, a book filled with hopes and dreams and love, and want to turn his back on that?
He was an idiot.
How could he convince her to believe he’d changed his mind when he could hardly compute the change himself?
Unable to tear his eyes from the scrapbook, he stared at it…as if it were trying to send him some kind of obtuse message…and as he heard her footfall it came to him in a flash of pure, inspired brilliance.
He swiped up his keys, glancing at the kitchen in time to see her sashay out with matching teacups on a tray. Her confused gaze landed on his keys before slowly lifting to meet his.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Don’t move. I’ll be back ASAP.’
‘Are you nuts?’
She dumped the tea on a nearby table, disbelief warring with outrage across her expressive face. ‘You barge in here, blurt you love me, now you do a runner? What the—?’
‘I love you. Trust me.’
He planted a quick peck on her cheek, her spicy fragrance tempting him to linger, to haul her into his arms and never let go. There was time enough for that.
He was a man on a mission.
‘Trust you?’
Her raised eyebrow said it all.
‘I’ll tell you everything as soon as I get back.’
She didn’t move, didn’t blink, the shimmer of hope in her wide blue eyes enough incentive to send him bolting out of the door.
They’d been through so much, too much. Words weren’t enough any more.
She needed proof of his love.
He’d give it to her; show her exactly how much he loved her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Stranded Survival Tip #17
When in need of serious forgiveness, forget the flowers. Only one thing works. Get down on your knees and start grovelling.
Twitter.com/Stranded_Jared
Whoever said actions speak louder than words was a bloody genius.
Twitter.com/Stranded_Kristi
Made a list, checked it twice; typical of a guy to throw it all into disarray.
KRISTI paced the apartment for hours, wearing tread marks in her favourite funky rug.
Jared was a certifiable lunatic.
Professing his love one minute, bolting out of here the next. She should lock the door, refuse to answer it and finish up her packing.
Instead, his sincerity when he’d asked her to trust him kept flashing through her mind. And there was that one little salient point of him saying he loved her…
She pinched herself on the arm, again, just to make sure she hadn’t collapsed onto her bed in exhaustion from packing and fallen asleep.
Ouch! Nope, still hurt, which meant she was very much awake and the guy she loved had just told her he loved her right back!
What was he up to?
The selfish part of her—which had botched her previous relationships—wished he could come with her to LA. But she’d never make that demand. She was foolish enough to push him away once, no way would she do it again.
So where did that leave them?
Long-distance relationship? Her losing concentration on the job and getting fired anyway? Exorbitant phone bills? Her life laid out on Twitter again?
None of those options appealed, which brought her back full circle to what was he up to?
A loud pounding had her running to the door and flinging it open, totally blowing her intention to play things cool and wait to see what he had in mind.
Before she could speak he picked her up and spun her around, the air whooshing out of her lungs, her whoop of surprise making him laugh.
‘Hey! Let go…’ she trailed off, her heart ka-thumping at Jared’s triumphant grin.
‘Sorry for rushing out like that. Important business to attend to.’
‘Business? After what you said earlier?’
She shook her head, pushed against his chest until he set her down on her feet. ‘You’ve got five seconds to explain yourself, mister, or I’m—’
‘I came to give you these. Some light reading to pass the time on the long-haul flight.’
He ducked down, picked up a pile of magazines hidden behind one of the pot plants framing her doorway, and handed them to her.
Her eyebrows shot heavenward as she flipped through the stack of bridal magazines, all glossy and new and tempting. What she couldn’t understand was why.
‘And this, to help you hurry back.’
If the magazines confused her it had nothing on the small distinctive blue box from Tiffany resting on the palm of his hand, outstretched towards her.
Taking the magazines and dumping them on top of her cases, he pressed the box into her palm.
‘Go ahead. Open it.’
No way.
It couldn’t be.
Her fumbling fingers fiddled with the lid and when she finally prised it open she exhaled on a loud woo, not computing what she was seeing.
‘It’s my ring.’
‘I know. Not exactly the same but the closest I could get on short notice.’
He grinned, proud as a kid who’d aced his first test. ‘I saw it in your scrapbook.’
If the ring had floored her, the sight of Jared Malone dropping to one knee and taking hold of her hand in her doorway almost mad
e her keel over.
‘Because I love you. Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I want to marry you.’
A faint buzzing filled her head, grew louder, as she blinked away the spots dancing a jig before her eyes.
She’d never fainted in her life but as the world suddenly tilted it looked as if there was a first time for everything.
‘Whoa!’
He leaped to his feet, caught her before she slumped to the floor, her head spinning from his proposal more than a lack of oxygen to the brain.
‘Not quite the reaction I expected.’
‘Not quite the farewell I expected,’ she countered, allowing him to lower her onto a nearby sofa where she hung her head between her knees, took great gasps of air, finally feeling strong enough to sit up and face him.
Taking hold of her hand, he sat beside her, his body wedged tight against hers, as if he had no intention of letting her go anywhere.
‘I know you think I’m a lunatic, vacillating all over the place, pushing you away one minute, professing my undying love the next. That’s where this comes in.’
He toyed with the ring box in his free hand, flipped the lid open and shut, the princess diamond catching the light and sending shards of exquisite brilliance dancing around the room.
‘I wanted to show you how I felt. I thought you wouldn’t listen to me after the way I’ve acted. I’m hoping you’ll believe me now.’
She didn’t know what to believe.
Her dream groom had just proposed, exactly like in her fantasy. Only problem was, it had happened so fast, she doubted any of this was real.
Rubbish! You’re doubting yourself as usual, trying to find a reason to sabotage the relationship for fear of making a mistake like Meg, for fear of the relationship not living up to your high expectations, for fear he’ll leave you. Again.
Squeezing her hand, he said, ‘Say something.’
She blurted the first thing that popped into her head. ‘I’m scared.’
He slid his arm around her, hugged her tight. ‘Of what? Me walking away again? Because it won’t happen. Taking this step has been huge for me, I’m not about to be a runaway groom now.’