Wedding Date With Mr. Wrong

by Nicola Marsh

‘I’ve ordered a whole lot of online gift cards for your family for Christmas. Think that’ll be okay?’

  ‘Fine,’ he said. But clearly it wasn’t. That little exchange with his brother had left Archer edgy and reticent and standoffish.

  She preferred him laid-back and happy, but she wanted answers and there was only one way to get them.

  ‘Why do you do that?’

  He shot her a confused glance. ‘What?’

  ‘Close off around your family.’

  His brow instantly furrowed. ‘That’s bull—’

  ‘Is it?’

  His lips compressed as he stared at his parents, in deep conversation with Tom on the other side of the marquee.

  When he didn’t answer, she continued. ‘When your brothers showed up at your house and I walked into the kitchen I could feel the tension. Since then you’ve spent all your time either working or surfing and haven’t visited your folks.’

  The slash between his brows deepened.

  ‘And tonight, rocking up to this party seems like the last thing you wanted to do.’ She blew out a long breath. He was still here, listening. She took it as a good sign. ‘Your family can’t speak highly enough of you, so I don’t get it. Maybe—’

  ‘Maybe you should butt out.’

  Hurt slashed her hopes. Hope he’d changed, hope he’d trust her with the truth, hope they had a future.

  She tugged on her hand, but rather than releasing it as she’d expected he held on tighter and swore under his breath. When he finally looked at her, the pain in his eyes made her breath catch.

  ‘Sorry for snapping at you.’ He gestured towards his family with his free hand. ‘None of this is your fault.’

  ‘Want to talk about it?’

  ‘Not really.’

  But he did. She could see the turbulent conflict tearing him up inside as his wild gaze swung between Tom, Trav, his folks and Izzy.

  It was as if he waged some great inner battle before his stare softened, fixed on Izzy.

  ‘I’m not around much any more. I feel like a stranger.’

  He said it so softly she had to lean into him to hear, and the underlying sadness in his reluctant admission tore at her heart.

  ‘My fault, not theirs,’ he added, his hand gripping hers as if he’d never let go. ‘It’s like once I hit the surf circuit I didn’t belong here any more.’

  Silence stretched as she tried to come up with something to say that didn’t sound trite.

  ‘Your lives are so different. Maybe having less in common made you feel like that?’

  ‘It’s not that,’ he said, his eyes bleak as he tore his gaze away from his family and refocussed on her. ‘They kept something from me. It changed everything.’

  Oh, heck. She could see it was big from his shattered expression. She’d wanted answers; she hadn’t wanted to cause him this much pain.

  ‘What happened?’

  He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out in a long stream.

  ‘Dad had prostate cancer. They didn’t tell me for eighteen months.’

  Stunned, she stared at him in disbelief. She couldn’t comprehend the enormity of how betrayed she’d feel if her mum hadn’t told her the truth about her disease. And in that moment she understood everything: Archer’s discomfort around his family, his unwillingness to get too close.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, pulling him in for a comforting hug that didn’t convey half of what she wanted to say.

  ‘It sucked.’ He disengaged, the slight catch in his voice underscoring his vulnerability. ‘Apparently he was diagnosed around the time I first started making a name for myself on the pro circuit. A couple of years before we first met.’

  His gaze swung back to his family.

  ‘They didn’t want to burden me with something I could do little about. They waited to tell me once he’d got the all-clear so I would follow my dream.’ He dragged a hand through his hair. ‘Damn it, do you have any idea how shallow that makes me sound?’

  Wishing she could do something to ease his pain, she captured his chin and made him look at her.

  ‘Don’t judge them too harshly. I’ve been where they are, sitting around helpless and frustrated, waiting for results. It’s a relentless, mundane task that eats away at you, and there isn’t one damn thing you can do about any of it.’ She released him, shaken by the vehemence of her response. ‘I know how hurt you must’ve been at being shut out, but did you stop to think they did it because they love you?’

  Confusion clouded his eyes and she continued. ‘You told me in Capri that all you’d ever wanted growing up was to be the best surfer in the world. You said that every night you poured into getting your degree part-time was because you wanted to be something. Something beyond a local Torquay guy with big dreams and little else.’

  She grabbed his arms and gave him a little shake. ‘You wanted it so badly I envied you that certainty of what you wanted and how far you’d go to get it. If I picked up on that in a week, don’t you think your family knew how much your dream meant to you?’

  He opened his mouth to respond and she placed a fingertip under his chin and gently closed it. ‘Think about this. If you’d known and given up everything to be with your dad, would you have ended up resenting your family because of it?’

  ‘’Course not. I should’ve been here, supporting them.’

  She shook her head. ‘You’re telling me the independent, driven, determined guy I know would’ve been happy giving up his dream to stay in Torquay?’

  His frown was back. ‘It was my decision to make, and they didn’t give me a choice.’

  His hurt was audible and she cupped his cheek. ‘They love you, Arch, and your dad’s fine. That’s all that matters. Don’t waste time on regrets, because life’s too short.’

  She saw the moment some of his load eased. His confusion cleared and clarity shone through.

  ‘Is that why you gave me a second chance?’

  His question came out of left field and stunned her a little. Of course her ‘seize the day’ mentality had a lot to do with her mum’s illness and her approach to life, but him being intuitive enough to pick up on it—and call her on it—really surprised her.

  He slid his arms around her waist and rested his forehead against hers. ‘I’m sorry for the way things ended.’

  Her heart stalled. There was so much she wanted to say, so much more she wanted to ask, but she’d made great inroads in getting him to open up about his family—who were now gathering for speeches and sending curious glances their way. The rest would have to wait until later.

  ‘Me too,’ she said, easing away, needing to lighten the mood before she started bawling. ‘You know, the faster we get the speeches over with, the faster we can get out of here.’

  ‘I like the way you think,’ he said, dropping a quick kiss on her lips.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ARCHER’S guts griped the way they had the time he’d eaten too many jalapeños in Mexico. Sadly, what ailed him this time wouldn’t be fixed with a dose of alka selzer.

  This was what opening up did to a guy: it made him feel as if he’d be sick at any moment.

  How the hell had Callie done that? Wormed some of the truth out of him? He hadn’t told anyone about his dad’s illness for fear it would paint him in a bad light. Not that he’d been deliberately uncaring. He just hadn’t been given the chance to care.

  But having Callie articulate his family’s possible motivation in keeping such a momentous thing from him had gone some way to assuaging the pain.

  Maybe it was time to swallow his damn pride and try to start building a few bridges again?

  ‘Come with me.’ His grip tightened on Callie’s hand, and as she smiled up at him a new pang twisted his gut.

  This one had nothing to do with old regrets and everything to do with a new realisation.

  That Callie meant more to him than he’d like to admit.

  ‘Sure. Though if I have to listen to one more anecdote abou
t you guys terrorising Torquay by running around naked as kids I’m bailing.’

  ‘I don’t hear you complaining about seeing me naked now,’ he said, his low voice making her eyes widen. The molten depths urged him to head home with her right this very minute, bridges be damned.

  ‘I’m assuming we’re heading over to your family to say goodbye?’

  He grinned at her cool delivery, spoiled by her healthy blush.

  ‘You assume right.’ He ducked down to whisper in her ear. ‘The sooner I get you naked the better.’

  Her blush intensified and he was chuckling, as Izzy bowled up to him and careened into his legs, almost upending both of them.

  ‘Hey, Iz, where’s the fire?’

  ‘You’re leaving,’ she said, hanging off his leg in a similar way he’d seen her do to her dad. ‘And I don’t want you to go.’

  Hell.

  Intuitive as usual, Callie squeezed his hand and released it so he could squat down to Izzy’s level. She transferred her death grip from his leg to his arm.

  ‘I’m not going far, Iz, just up the road.’

  Her blue eyes narrowed, pinning him with the retribution of a child he’d let down too many times in the past. ‘You sure you’re coming to the wedding on Christmas Eve and everything?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  Her wariness didn’t ease, and he half expected her to give him a kick in the shins for all those times he’d sidestepped her too-astute questions about his early departure.

  ‘Okay, then,’ she said, but she didn’t let go, and as she stared at him with wide-eyed suspicion it hit him.

  Izzy didn’t believe him.

  And that more than anything Callie had said or his family could say got through to him. He needed to stop thinking about making amends and actually start doing something about it.

  ‘Hey, Iz, I know things are kinda busy around here, with everyone getting ready for Uncle Trav’s wedding, but if it’s okay with your dad why don’t I take you surfing tomorrow?’

  She stared at him in disbelief for a good five seconds before an ear-splitting grin indicated he’d done the right thing.

  With a loud screech that had every guest in the place looking their way, she released him and ran towards Tom, about six feet away, yelling loud enough to be heard in Melbourne. ‘Uncle Arch is taking me surfing! Yay, yay, yay!’

  His family stared at him in unison.

  Tom’s warning glare spoke volumes: You’d better not let my kid down this time.

  Trav was giving him a thumbs-up of encouragement.

  His mum’s soft smile was warm and appreciative and hopeful.

  His dad gave a brief nod of approval before he glanced away, unable to look him in the eye as usual.

  Well, he’d make Frank Flett look him in the eye before he left this time. If the surf school didn’t show his dad he was worthy and responsible he’d face this situation head-on regardless.

  Callie’s pep talk had got him thinking. He’d spent too many years being an outcast in his own family—his choosing. Time to discover the truth about what had happened during his dad’s illness, and why they hadn’t deemed him fit to know at the time.

  And he had Callie to thank for giving him the push he needed.

  ‘Thanks.’ He caressed her cheek with his fingertips, a fleeting gesture he hoped conveyed even half of what he was thinking.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Everything,’ he said, pulling her in for a quick hug to the sound of embarrassing applause from his family.

  She laughed as they disengaged, and as he took in her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes and smiling mouth he realised how much he’d given up in walking away from her all those years ago.

  And he’d end up doing it again.

  He didn’t want to lose her, but he didn’t trust himself to make her happy. He’d analysed it at length: if his family didn’t trust him when the going got rough, was it him?

  Was it because he didn’t inspire trust in people? And if his own family didn’t trust him, how could he connect emotionally with a woman like Callie?

  Where did that leave them?

  Damned if he knew.

  While Izzy alternated between dancing around Tom and tearing towards him, he grabbed Callie’s hand and tugged her towards his family.

  He made arrangements with Tom to pick up Izzy in the morning, slapped Trav on the back and hugged his mum.

  When it came to Frank, the inevitable questions bubbled to the forefront of his mind.

  Why didn’t you tell me, Dad?

  Why didn’t you let me be there for you?

  Why did you trust the others and not me?

  He didn’t ask. Now wasn’t the time. But before he left this trip he’d discover the truth behind all the pain.

  They stood there, self-conscious and ill at ease. Archer wanted to say so much, yet he was plagued by the same discomfort that inevitably occurred around his dad these days. When Frank tried a tentative grin Archer shook his hand and mumbled something about seeing him at the wedding. He wanted answers, but right now he was plain exhausted.

  This emotional re-bonding took it out of a guy, and hot on the heels of his realisation that he didn’t want to lose Callie...well, Archer knew he had some serious thinking to do.

  * * *

  When Archer had invited Izzy to surf he’d envisaged the two of them having a little uncle-niece bonding time.

  What he hadn’t imagined was the entire Flett clan descending on the beach for an impromptu picnic. Izzy loved the attention and the mayhem and the laughter. Him—not so much.

  As he watched Trav elbow their dad and share a laugh with him on the foreshore, regret strengthened his resolve to put the past behind him and move on.

  Regret that he’d missed out on being there for his dad when he’d needed him most.

  Regret that he’d missed out on so much with his family because of his deliberate withdrawal.

  Regret that he hadn’t confronted the issue sooner because of his damned pride.

  ‘Hey, you’re not watching me!’ Izzy’s yell refocussed his attention on where it should be: refining her pop up technique.

  ‘I am now, squirt.’

  As she sprang from her knees to a standing position, arms stretched out sideways, her grin wide and proud, some of his residual tension whenever his family were around eased.

  He’d wasted enough time hanging onto old hurts, and he had missed out on spending time with Izzy as a result.

  No more.

  ‘You’re a natural,’ he said, sweeping her into his arms and tickling her until she squealed.

  ‘I wanna go in the water,’ she said, grabbing both his ears and twisting until he released her.

  Rubbing them, he tried to frown and failed, his mouth twitching with suppressed laughter instead. ‘Ow, Iz, that hurt.’

  ‘Wuss,’ she said, poking out her tongue, mischief sparking in blue eyes the colour of the ocean behind her.

  ‘That’s it. Lesson’s over.’

  She giggled and ran into the shallows, kicking water at him as he followed. They dodged and weaved and splashed until he tackled her, scooped her in his arms and made for deeper water.

  ‘My daddy will get cross at you for taking me out so far.’ She pouted, but there was no denying the mischievous twinkle in her eyes or mistaking the devious machinations of an intelligent, conniving child who’d say anything to avoid a good old-fashioned dunking.

  ‘Your daddy’s laughing as hard as Nan and Pop,’ he said, laughing when she glanced towards shore and saw he spoke the truth.

  ‘Put me down,’ she said, pummelling his shoulders, so he obliged, chuckling as a wave swamped them and Iz resurfaced, a wide-eyed, bedraggled imp with a grin as wide as the stretch of beach.

  Archer lost track of how long they frolicked in the waves—duck-diving, playing tag—and he didn’t care. The longer he stayed out here with Izzy, in the one place he felt truly at home, the easier it became to let go of the past.


  He’d recaptured some of the magic with his niece and he’d be damned if he lost it again.

  Now if only he could do the same with his dad.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ Izzy said, flinging her arms around his neck and hanging on tight. ‘And thirsty.’

  ‘Okay, kiddo, let’s go attack that mountain of food your nan brought along.’

  As he waded into shore with Izzy in his arms and strode towards his family their collective expressions gave him hope for the future. Approval, warmth, relief and optimism—the latter on his dad’s weather-lined face as admiration lit his smile.

  Yeah, it was definitely time to put the past behind him, and he owed it all to Callie.

  As if on cue she popped out from the main office of the surf school, where she’d been putting a few finishing touches to the website.

  He saw her glance towards his family, sprawled across a picnic blanket on the sand in casual unanimity, and back to him, as if unsure whether to join them or not.

  Later. For now he had to thank her.

  He lowered Izzy until her feet hit sand, savouring her hesitation to let him go. ‘Save me a Vegemite sandwich, kiddo, I’ll be there in a sec.’

  ‘But I get the last brownie,’ she flung over her shoulder, already racing towards the Fletts, where she flung herself into Tom’s arms.

  Archer had never envisaged himself settling down, let alone having kids, but watching his brother and niece rub noses in an affectionate greeting he damn well wanted what they had.

  ‘You did a good thing today.’

  Callie touched his arm, and the immediate lick of heat made him wish he could drag her back to their sand dune for a repeat performance of that time earlier in the week.

  ‘What? Take my niece surfing?’ He shook his head. ‘I should’ve done it a long time ago.’

  ‘It’s never too late,’ she said, and the barely audible quiver in her voice reminded him that for her, for her mum, one day it would be too late.

  ‘Thanks.’ He rested his hands on her waist, enjoying the way they seemed to belong there.

  ‘For?’

  ‘For giving me the kick up the ass I needed.’

  Her gaze darted towards his family and a small, satisfied smile curved her lips. ‘It’s hard when you’re too close to a situation. Sometimes all it takes is a little objectivity to help clear through the fluff.’