Lovestruck

by Bronwyn Sell

  ‘Choreography for the wedding what number?’ he said.

  ‘Don’t even ask—and don’t tell your dad. It’s a surprise wedding present.’

  ‘Ooh, my first family secret,’ he said. ‘I haven’t written my speech yet, either. Do you think that’s enough of an excuse to dodge anything to do with placeholders or gift bags or whatever other hellish tasks Sanjay is expecting me to help with?’ Harry approached and Josh ordered a beer. ‘And whatever she’s having,’ he added, indicating Amy’s empty glass.

  ‘Bollinger, please,’ Amy said, trying to remember what had become of her cocktail. She introduced Josh and Harry, who shook hands across the bar. Were step-cousins a thing? No, wait—Harry wouldn’t be related to Josh by marriage, just like her mother wouldn’t be. Only Amy and Carmen should be so unlucky.

  ‘Hey, what are you guys doing tomorrow?’ Josh said to Amy as Harry turned to the fridge. ‘I see there are paddleboards—or maybe we could play beach cricket?’

  Even worse than him treating her like a little sister? He was treating her like a little brother.

  ‘Or am I coming on too strong?’ he said.

  ‘Um, what?’

  ‘Okay, laying it all out here. All my life, I’ve wanted siblings. I don’t even have cousins, not really. Just me and my folks, and they’ve barely spoken in twenty years. So, apologies in advance if I get all needy and annoying, but I’m glad you’re here. I was stoked to hear you and Carmen were coming solo so I didn’t feel compelled to bring a date.’

  ‘You have someone to bring?’ She shouldn’t ask. But if he had someone, maybe The Pull would release before it gave her cramp.

  ‘I’m not a commitment guy. I’m the guy your mother warned you about.’

  Across the pavilion, Rosa’s hands were planted on Viggo’s waist, coaxing him into a hip sway. A lifetime of dancing had warped her respect for personal space. A body is a tool for expression. ‘Believe me, she didn’t—unfortunately.’

  ‘Not that I’m a jerk who leaves broken hearts around the place,’ he added hastily. ‘I make it clear from the start. I’m not into long-term. Because how is it possible to know someone well enough to want to spend your whole life with them? Even if you’ve been together ten years?’

  Eek. It was happening already. They’d known each other for minutes and he was lamenting his love life. The first bad sign—and a new record. The more honest a guy was, the less interested he was.

  But that could cut both ways. The more honest a guy was with her, the less interested she became in him. And maybe it was healthy that this … this thing died the same death. Josh was not into relationships. Josh was also her stepbrother. This was just a base physical attraction—because look at the guy—and it would pass. The better she got to know him, the more chance The Pull would ease. Familiarity blah blah, contempt blah blah blah.

  She cleared her throat. ‘You realise we’re here to celebrate a wedding? It’s kind of all about love and long-term commitment.’

  He laughed, all white teeth and delicious crinkles besides his eyes. ‘Look, I’m stoked that Sanjay’s getting married. This way I get to have a family without having to get married myself. This could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And your dad’s a good guy. Cheers, man,’ he said to Harry as the drinks arrived. He held up his beer and she clinked it with her champagne, smiling broadly. To not being attracted to my brother. ‘Yay, my two dads—our two dads.’

  ‘So, let me get this straight.’ Amy paused to take a sip. ‘You want to have a family so you can feel like you belong to something without having to actually get close and personal and take a risk of your own.’

  ‘Whoa. You are good.’

  ‘You know most people do it the other way around? They start with getting close and personal with someone and letting down their guard, and then the belonging to a family part comes afterwards.’ Not Amy, of course. Just most people.

  ‘Fools! Hasn’t worked that way in my family. Not a single marriage has lasted in at least the last fifty years.’

  ‘Mine either.’

  ‘Millennials R Us. I’ll let Sanjay take the risk while I soak up the rewards. Not that I’m saying our dads won’t stay together,’ he added quickly. ‘I hope they do.’

  ‘But you don’t think it.’

  ‘How could anyone possibly know?’

  ‘Have you seen the way they look at each other?’

  ‘That’ll pass. They only met a few years ago. They might be different people five years from now.’ He leaned back on the bar, propping himself on his elbows. His nearest T-shirt sleeve rode up, revealing the curved edge of a fine black tattoo. ‘And don’t say, “You just haven’t found the right woman yet.” I’ve been in a relationship where I thought she was The One, and then down the track realised she wasn’t—and I wasn’t right for her, either. No one’s fault. All good—she married someone else, and I confirmed that that type of thing isn’t for me. But imagine if I’d married her. Imagine if we’d had kids?’

  ‘So that’s what it’s about?’ Amy said, teasingly, and, okay, maybe a little flirtatiously, seeing as there was such a fine line between the two. ‘The whole, “My parents thought they were in love but my dad turned out to be gay” thing?’

  ‘See, little sis? You get me. Though Sanjay identifies as bi, of course—not that we should go around putting people into boxes—so it wasn’t that simple.’

  ‘Never is, right?’

  ‘True.’ He looked at her like he was seeing beyond the immediate surfaces of her face. ‘Sanjay said he could see you and me being great friends.’

  ‘And I just know we will be. Great friends, big bro.’ Would it look awkward if she slipped over to the next bar stool, put some distance between them?

  ‘You see, Pippa—that’s my mum—she thought she knew Sanjay,’ he continued. ‘Hell, Sanjay thought he knew Sanjay. They were both wrong. Of course, they were teenagers back then but we’re all growing and changing all the time, right? You don’t get to thirty or whatever and that’s it, that’s you for the rest of your life.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m reasonably certain I won’t come out as gay or bi or anything but hetero anytime soon, but who knows? I wouldn’t be the first grown man to be in denial—and denial is in both of our genetic heritages, am I right?’

  ‘I think you would know by now, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I’m messing with you. I love women, some would say too much—some do say too much. Definitely too often. How about you?’ he said, shifting so he could focus on her. Sigh.

  ‘Tediously straight.’ She liked that he was asking, even if she shouldn’t.

  He laughed, the ends of his lips tweaking up further than they should reasonably be able to. ‘You sound disappointed. I meant, is there anyone special?’

  ‘Oh.’ A brotherly question. ‘I tend to have man friends, not boyfriends.’

  ‘Man friends?’

  ‘Guys see me as friend material, not girlfriend material. It’s my special curse.’

  ‘I can see why.’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’

  ‘I mean that in a good way. I can see already that you’re easy to talk to. You’re witty, you’re cool, you’re sarcastic. You’re like the dream little sister. And how cool is it that we don’t have a childhood history where I annoyed you and you annoyed me, and you had a crush on my best friend and I hit on your best friend. And I would set you up with one of my friends, for the record, but I can see already that no one’s going to be good enough for my little sis.’ He grinned. ‘I’m gonna be such an annoying big brother—I have a lot of time to make up here. I’m going to interrogate all your boyfriends. You just wait.’

  All her boyfriends. ‘Can’t wait.’

  Cheers and whistles erupted from the dance floor. Rosa was swaying to a thumping drumbeat like the pro she was, her hips swinging under her skirt.

  ‘Ay caramba,’ he said, ‘Your mum is …’

  ‘You can say it. Everyone else does—and you’re not about to be r
elated to her. She’s hot.’

  ‘I was going to say a great dancer but yeah, that too, I guess.’

  ‘She used to dance professionally, before she moved back here when I left home. Now she runs Latin and barre and yoga retreats on the island, though her main job is chief concierge. And she’s the HR department. And manages the bookings. And whatever else Nan’s made her since I was here last.’

  ‘Do you dance too?’

  ‘Just at clubs now.’ It was her thing—owning the dance floor while her friends were with their partners or meeting new ones. Sure, Amy got propositions, but mostly from guys who assumed she was as wild in bed as on the dance floor. They were easily identified and brushed off. Blowing off steam in a club was way better than sex with a random stranger who didn’t give a rat’s arse about you. The same dopamine rush without the morning-after doubts.

  ‘I’ll have to reserve a dance with you for the wedding,’ he said.

  ‘Get in quick. My dance card is filling up fast.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  She arched her brows. ‘No. Look around you. Everyone comes in two by two, and a good fifty percent are gay.’ And that two was supposed to include Rosa and her. You’ll probably ditch me for some guy, her mother had said, as if there was a long history of that happening.

  Maybe Josh was rooming with his mum, too—but then he’d said his parents didn’t talk. ‘I’m guessing your mother’s not coming?’

  He grimaced. ‘Sanjay invited her but … yeah … things aren’t as rosy as with your folks. I’m thirty-one and it’s like they’re still fighting over custody.’ His eyes zeroed in on her empty flute and he signalled Harry with a lift of the chin. ‘Same again, Aims?’

  She froze. It was Aims now? And where had her drink even gone?

  The skin between his eyes puckered. ‘Sorry, that was presumptuous.’

  ‘No stress. Extremely cold water would be great, please,’ she said to Harry. Maybe The Pull was the alcohol playing tricks. Or jetlag. Could you get jetlag from a three-hour flight and a one-hour boat trip?

  ‘Your dad calls you Aims when he talks about you, which is a lot.’

  ‘Ah, yeah, sorry about that.’

  ‘Hey, he’s proud. It’s cute. Took me a while to figure out your real name.’ He said it as if he’d made it a personal mission. Hacked into her dad’s emails, stalked her on social media, taken photos out of their frames and checked for names written on the back.

  ‘It’s what my family calls me—and I guess you’re family now, or will be very soon.’ And just you remember that, Aims. ‘So what’s the deal with your parents? They were teenagers when you … happened?’

  ‘When I happened?’

  ‘That’s how it works, isn’t it?’

  He grinned. ‘They got together really young. They were teen models who met on a shoot, would you believe?’

  Sanjay had taken a seat beside her dad at a restaurant table. Josh had his height and build, his cheekbones, the cleft in his chin. Amy guessed the eyes, smile and paler skin had come from his mother. ‘I actually would believe that.’

  ‘Then, yeah, I happened before they had time to figure out they were wrong for each other, in ways they weren’t even aware of. Pippa was so in love that when Sanjay finally admitted it wasn’t working for him—and we’re talking years later—she was a mess. She’d given up so much to make our little family work. And she was a foster kid and didn’t have a regular family growing up, so the two of us were her world.’

  ‘That’s so sad. Who did you live with after they split?’

  ‘They both wanted custody, but Pippa got a uni scholarship in Perth and Sanjay’s father was dying in Melbourne and then his business started taking off. So they sent me to school in Adelaide, and I split my weekends and holidays between them.’ He shrugged, like it was your standard nuclear family story.

  ‘That’s an unusual childhood.’ No wonder he had some strange ideas about relationships.

  ‘They both had lives that’d come to a halt when I was born—especially Pippa—so I get it now, I guess. And I can see that she needed to create a life that didn’t revolve around me because I wasn’t going to be her baby forever. It’s all good now.’

  Sure it is. ‘Do you always call them by their first names?’

  ‘We’re not your regular family, though I do slip in the occasional Ma and Pa for laughs. By the time they were my age now, I was a teenager. Can you imagine having a teenager now?’

  ‘I really can’t. I mean, my parents were young but not that young. How old were you when they split up?’

  ‘Eight. Nine when I went away to school. I never really had a family before, not like this.’ His tone briefly dipped into wistfulness before sliding straight back up to breezy. ‘But every family’s different, right? It turned out fine. I turned out fine. I was luckier than a lot of kids—including Pippa, who had a shitty childhood. And sometimes it’s cool to have a dad who’s more like a bossy big brother.’

  She got the feeling it wasn’t really all fine, but she wasn’t about to interrogate him. Geoff had once complained to her that Sanjay was too hard on his son but that was when she’d thought Josh was a teenager. This reframed it. His story seemed like the kind you chipped away at slowly. And they had a lifetime of that ahead. Maybe he’d be one of these guys who was hot when young but slid downhill fast past thirty-five. She looked across at Sanjay, all chiselled cheekbones and flecks of white hair in the glossy black. Probably not. No, she was likely to be cursed with a ludicrously attractive stepfather (or two?) and stepbrother her whole life. Like she wasn’t afflicted with enough curses.

  ‘Sorry, Aims—Amy,’ Josh said, evidently misinterpreting her silence. ‘I don’t know why I’m dragging you into my pity party.’

  Oh, I do. ‘Call me Aims, please. We’re family.’

  Family, family, family.

  He nodded, a smile quirking his lips but not reaching the irresistible angle of earlier. Something sparked in his eyes then faded. Something vulnerable. Yep, under all that goofy charm, he was a fixer-upper. Sure, her parents’ split had been what everyone else called amicable, but she remembered the arguments—sometimes loud and angry, sometimes hushed and urgent. She remembered the fear that her family would be torn in half, she remembered her mother standing at the supermarket checkout deciding whether to put back the budget mince or the budget shampoo, she remembered bawling as Carmen sat on her bed cuddling her, promising that they’d always stick together, no matter what.

  Amy massaged her breastbone with the knuckle of her thumb. Twenty years later, she could still feel that fear like a physical ache. But her dad had rented a place a few blocks from the family home in Melbourne so she and Carmen could continue with their routines more or less as usual, and they’d still hung out as a nuclear family on weekends and holidays. Even now, they holidayed together on the island, and spent Christmas there.

  Josh was her alternate reality. He’d got dealt the hand she’d feared that day when she’d lain on her bed and cried.

  ‘So, tomorrow,’ he said, breaking her reverie. ‘Are you doing anything, before this bucks’ night—bachelors party—whatever they’re calling it?’

  ‘No set plans. I should help Carmen at some point.’ It was teetering on a lie. Carmen was hopeless at delegating. She’d get halfway through giving Amy directions about some task and give up. ‘You know, it’s probably easier if I do it myself. By the time I explain it …’ Those were some of Amy’s favourite words in the world—Carmen’s instructions were always excruciatingly complicated, and Amy never did a good enough job.

  ‘Paddleboarding or cricket—the choice is yours. Or …’ Josh slapped his thighs, startling Amy into sloshing water on her jeans. She half-expected it to sizzle. ‘The woman at check-in was telling me about this incredible snorkelling trip to some island in the morning. She said that so far it was all couples, so I didn’t sign up.’ He faux gagged. ‘But how about it? You, me and the deep blue sea.’

  She sw
allowed, getting a splendid mind picture of him in board shorts. Hurrah for it not being stinger season, when they had to wear crown-to-toe rash-suits. Or would he wear a wetsuit, all slicked to the big shoulders under that T-shirt? It was just cold enough.

  No. This was not a good idea.

  ‘I … don’t know how to snorkel,’ she said lamely.

  ‘Your family owns a tropical island and you don’t know how to snorkel?’

  ‘I know, right? Black sheep.’

  ‘I can teach you. Go on.’

  His tone had a squeak of lost puppy to it. She was going to go ahead and say yes, wasn’t she? She could see it happening, like a prophecy she was powerless to stop. And then she’d have to pretend she didn’t know how to snorkel. Would he be endearingly patient? Or would he tease her? Or get all intense and glowering and exasperated? In her imagination, they were already giggling as they frolicked—yes, frolicked because it was her imagination, so she was allowed to frolic. Clear water right down to the coral, sunlight picking out the warm tones in his skin. They’d splash each other. She’d squeal. He’d chuckle in a manly way. He’d catch her arm in playful warning before she could splash him again, then his brow would contract, and his face would turn serious. He’d lean in and cup her cheeks but not in a controlling way and …

  ‘Aims?’

  ‘Er, what?’ She pressed the backs of her hands to her cheeks.

  ‘Tomorrow—snorkelling?’

  She stared at him a few long seconds. Or maybe the secret to killing this attraction was to spend more time with him, encourage him to overshare as only she could, let him reveal himself to be a regular guy with regular flaws that she could fixate on. Then they could find the warm but neutral relationship they were supposed to have. Surely Josh had flaws, aside from his strange ideas about relationships. Hopefully he’d wear too-tight Speedos and that’d eliminate him from contention as anything but yet another moderately embarrassing family member.