Lovestruck

by Bronwyn Sell

  ‘Yay, happy wedding guests. Just the people I want to be around.’ She’d been warned about the family wedding when she’d booked but she hadn’t given a toss who else would be around because she was going to be spending the fortnight staring into the eyes of her beloved. And they’d given her a discount.

  Harry tilted his head, his grin losing the sympathy and morphing into a far more appealing cheekiness. ‘Fair point.’

  She blinked. ‘I’m sorry, that was obnoxious. Anyway, I wouldn’t want to ruin their holiday with my weddings-and-men-suck vibe. Nothing personal,’ she added quickly. ‘I’m sure you’re the exception. I, on the other hand, am a walking cautionary tale.’

  He scoffed softly. ‘You should meet my little sister. You’d get along.’

  ‘You have a few brothers and sisters and cousins—according to the folder.’

  ‘Three boys and a girl. All of us living at home with Mum, because that’s cool when you’re thirty-four, though my little brother is away finishing his master’s. And yes, I have an embarrassment of cousins—literally—and The Sisters Three, and my grandmother.’

  Thirty-four. Good age. ‘The Sisters Three?’

  ‘My mum and aunties. So yeah, not only am I living up here with my mum, but my nan and aunties too.’

  Definitely single—which, like his age, had no relevance to her at all. ‘A tropical island isn’t exactly living in a room above your parents’ garage. But you said you don’t work for the resort?’

  ‘I’m saving the world, one turtle at a time.’

  ‘You’re what now?’

  ‘We use some of the profits from the resort to regenerate the environment—coral, mangroves, turtles, seabirds, predator control. And we get some government funding. I run that. A ranger, give or take.’

  ‘Ah yes, I read about that too.’ At least the fortune she was spending to feel sorry for herself might be doing some good. ‘How cool.’

  ‘You probably should have brought more books. I mean, that info is quality reading, I wrote some of it myself, but—’

  ‘I can’t focus on books. Nothing’s grabbing me and every single thing just reminds me of …’ She shuddered. ‘No, leisure time is not what I need, which sucks, seeing as I’ve been looking forward to this break for two years. I just can’t seem to get out of my own head.’

  He grunted in sympathy. It didn’t sting so much that time.

  She sat up straighter. Turtles, coral, seabirds … ‘What are you doing today?’

  ‘Me?’ He rubbed his knuckles across his chin, creating an intriguing rasping. ‘Just paperwork, and then dealing with some marauding starfish. Nothing very interesting.’

  ‘Marauding starfish? Is that like Jaws but with starfish?

  ‘They don’t jump out at you so much but yeah, more or less.’

  ‘Can I come along? Help out?’

  He gave a slight smile she couldn’t decipher, and an almost undetectable shake of his head, as though he’d come to a conclusion about her.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  His eyes shifted left to right. ‘What do you mean, “What?”’

  ‘What’s that secret smile for?’

  ‘Nothing. You should go snorkelling.’ He stood, his chair scraping backward. ‘And we have a well-stocked bookshelf. What are you into?’

  ‘You mean apart from legal texts and wedding blogs? I wouldn’t know, it’s been that long.’

  ‘I’ll bring you a selection.’

  ‘No, that’s okay. Reading’s not what I want to do.’ Which sucked because she’d had her honeymoon reading planned as carefully as everything else, and not one of those books was suitable for her changed circumstances, especially not Get Up the Duff! Increase your Chances of Conception and a Healthy, Happy Pregnancy. She’d even brought the Kama Sutra—another private joke that no one was laughing at. ‘Please, let me come along.’ Oh great, her voice cracked on the please. She needed to regrow her backbone. When she landed back in Sydney, she had to be ready to face down the fallout and start over, head high. And that wouldn’t happen if she sat here for the next week and a half alternating between punching hibiscus pillows and mentally plucking frangipani petals. He loves me not, he loves me not, he loves me not, he loves me not … And it wouldn’t happen while snorkelling. Underwater with all those thoughts batting around her head? No thank you, Nemo.

  She shouldn’t have come. She’d found herself on the plane in a daze. The resort was one of the many bookings it’d been far too late to cancel, and she’d packed a week earlier (in accordance with her schedule) so at no time had she made a conscious decision about whether to still go. Her sister had shown up to drive her to the airport on the morning of the flight, so she’d picked up her suitcase and walked out the door. It had seemed a fitting up-yours to Jeremy, seeing as only she knew the flight and booking details. But it turned out the one thing she most needed a break from was her own mind and that was the one thing she couldn’t escape. It was hard not to obsess over the fact that the person who knew you better than anyone else in the world no longer wanted to be with you.

  ‘Miss Wicks? Are you okay in there?’ Harry swiped a hand in front of her face. She blinked. She’d been peering at his nose. Cross-eyed.

  ‘Forget it,’ she said, looking at the shallows, where a half-dozen swallows swooped and squeaked. And now her eyes were filling. Great. Just the hangover and the lack of sleep. She fanned her face with her hand, blinking fast. ‘Allergies to … something. You’re right. You’re totally right. Books would be wonderful, thank you. And maybe I’ll go for a hike.’

  Now she felt him staring. She straightened her spine. Pity parties were best without guests. He sat down again and she could swear he emitted a tiny groan. Even if it hadn’t started out as a duty call, it was one now.

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t keep you,’ she said, with the tone she reserved for meetings that were going over time. ‘Thanks so much for delivering the drink and checking on me. And it’s Sophia. I can’t stand to be called Miss or Ms or anything else, outside of work.’ She hadn’t even had a chance to learn to dislike being called Mrs.

  One of his eyes twitched. The varying browns of his irises, his hair, his skin and his freckles reminded her of her wedding eyeshadow palette, minus the charcoal and dusky rose, and the shimmer. No, hang on—his eyebrows and eyelashes were charcoal, and his lips were the rose, and the ocean behind him added the shimmer. He was Ashes to Ashes, Dusk to Dusk on legs.

  Good grief, stop staring at the poor guy.

  ‘You know what, Sophia? Some company would be great today,’ he said, like he was working himself up to an unpleasant but necessary task.

  She held up her palms. ‘Honestly, don’t worry. I was kidding. I’m really excited about the surfing trip.’

  ‘Snorkelling. And I could use the help. It’d be good to have a spotter on the boat while I’m diving. My sister was meant to come but she’s a little distracted today.’

  Sophia leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table and linking her fingers. ‘I’ve been a finance and insurance lawyer for thirteen years, and a prosecutor before that. Fraud, embezzlement, insider trading. Knowing when someone’s lying is my superpower. And you’re lying.’ She sat back. ‘You don’t need help or company. This is pity, plain and simple, with a large dollop of obligation. I’ve guilted you into it.’

  That smile again—the non-pitying one. The one with the dimples. The one that made her belly tighten. ‘Come with me.’

  Why could she not just say yes?

  ‘I’m guessing that as part of the family,’ she continued, ‘you’re not supposed to say “no” to a guest.’ She rose to her feet with as much dignity as she could gather while wearing a fluffy bathrobe. ‘I’ve overstepped and put you in an awkward position. I withdraw my request and apologise. You’re free to go.’

  ‘Thank you, counsellor, but it’s not necessary.’ He unfolded from the chair until he stood level with her. She liked guys she could literally see eye-to-eye with. It
was sexy, somehow, all that drilling into each other’s eyeballs. And it would take almost no effort at all to lean in and … ‘I want you to come with me.’

  ‘No, you don’t, and that’s completely fine.’

  He stepped in slightly. Their faces were inches apart. Her breath skipped, which was nonsensical, but then he did smoulder like the walking smoky palette he was.

  ‘Okay, walking lie detector, detect me,’ he said, with his focus on lockdown, which was doing so many invisible things to her. At least, she hoped they were invisible. ‘Being straight-up here, because that’s obviously your jam. It wasn’t my choice to drop in on you. My grandmother and sister talked me into it because they wouldn’t know empathy if it slapped them around the face. And I get offers of help all the time from guests who are so used to being busy and useful that they don’t know how to relax and they’re desperate for a break from their break.’

  She opened her mouth to object, then closed it. Was that her? Busy had been her personal brand since she was a kid. I don’t know how you do it, said everyone, all the time.

  ‘But,’ he continued, ‘you seem like a very interesting wom—person—and you’re obviously intelligent and both of our days might be improved by the company, and I mean this in a completely platonic, not-coming-on-to-you way.’ He stepped away, knocking the table with his butt. He grabbed it to steady it—the table, not the butt, which was also thoroughly grabbable.

  Focus.

  The one part of him that was even more interesting than his butt right now was his eyes. Right at the end there, right at the awkward and unnecessary completely platonic, not coming on to you part, they had narrowed. Maybe not a lie, but he wasn’t convinced it was the truth, either. An intriguing fib at the end of a whole lot of sincerity, and coming on top of his woman/person correction. And yes, that tiny contradiction might be forcing a reaction somewhere under all her many layers of hurt and anger and humiliation, and what was so wrong about that?

  Not that she was going there. There would be no sex—or anything else—on this honeymoon. But an innocent distraction could be just what Operation Get Your Shit Together needed.

  ‘Do I have time for a shower?’ she said. ‘I don’t want to scare anyone.’

  His smile twitched—which variety of smile, she wasn’t certain. ‘The turtles won’t judge, but sure. How about you take the morning to chill and I’ll meet you at reception at eleven and take you out in the boat? But enjoy your drink first. It’s good stuff.’

  He grabbed his empty glass. She was surprised to discover she hadn’t touched hers. Her mouth watered again as he jogged down the steps onto the grass. His feet were bare, which was surprisingly sexy. Both of our days might be improved by the company. That was half true already. He disappeared around the side of the villa and she heard a golf buggy whir off down the path behind her.

  A holiday fling wasn’t in her plans—not that he was offering. Marriage and children were in her plans. Certainty, stability, fulfilment. And she never went off plan, not willingly. You worked hard, you played a careful, long game, and good things came—not that she’d have time to play a long game at love the next time around, which made it even more vital to force herself to move on while the opportunity presented. She needed something to snap her into the next phase of her recovery, even if it was platonic, as Harry had been so careful to establish. And no one said that the something couldn’t be a someone.

  Yes, the prospects for her day had switched from guaranteed misery to something (someone?) unknowable, which was as intriguing as that narrowing of his eyes.

  Operation Get Your Shit Together was officially parked. New plan: Operation Distraction.

  Trip Review: Curlew Bay

  Rating:

  Review: There are signs warning of falling coconuts! I heard one fall next to my villa and found it and took it to reception to complain. They just laughed and offered to make a Pina Colada! I was too scared to go outside after that. They need to replace the palm trees with some that don’t have coconuts. Health and safety hazard.

  6

  Amy

  Amy dropped her mask and snorkel onto a beach lounger beside the one Carmen had set up as the morning’s wedding planning hot desk, and retied her new (purple!) sarong at her waist. No need for towels. On the island, you air-dried in eleven minutes—she and Carmen had timed it one summer—and needed another swim in twelve. Today it might take longer, it theoretically being early winter, though it was only winter by island standards, and an unseasonably warm start to it at that—not that the seasons stuck to the rules anymore.

  Could she seek funding for a research project on water evaporation off humans? She could observe the droplets on Josh’s skin drying up and then lick off the salt residue.

  ‘You’re dripping on my seating plan,’ Carmen said, whipping a sheet of paper off the lounger. ‘How was the snorkelling trip?’

  ‘Horrific.’

  ‘Really? Well, that’s for the best, isn’t it? You said at breakfast you wanted Josh out of your system. What did he do so wrong?’

  Amy sat on the lounger and drew her legs up into the shade spilling from Carmen’s sun umbrella. The ocean sparkled in several shades of blue—turquoise above the sand directly in front of them, navy blue around the jetty to their left, the colour of curaçao over the coral to their right. A single spray of cirrus interrupted the cobalt sky. It was exactly the picture she summoned in her mind on the darkest and grindiest days of the Melbourne winter. ‘Nothing at all. It was horrific in good ways. Bad ways. Bad but good. Good but bad. It was awful—awfully good.’ She planted her hand over her chest. ‘I’m feeling it, right here. Badly.’

  ‘Uh-oh.’

  ‘This is a disaster,’ Amy hissed, glancing over her shoulder and talking fast because Josh would be back from the bar any minute. ‘It was like a montage in a bad movie. Tropical fish, warm breezes, him topless with his board shorts clinging to his thighs and his arse and, ohhh, everything else. Nudging me every minute to point out something. Crayfish, giant clams, a turtle. He was so excited. It was goddamn adorable.’

  ‘How infuriating,’ Carmen deadpanned. ‘What were you guys talking about when the boat docked just now? I haven’t seen you laugh like that in ages.’

  ‘I know, right? He’s so goofy, and he laughs at all my jokes. He’s so sweet, and he was so patient when he showed me how to use the snorkel, and he kept on checking up on me, and when we surfaced, he held me up and treaded water for both of us while I fixed my mask.’

  ‘Hang on, he showed you how to use the snorkel?’

  ‘Um, I may have lied and said I couldn’t snorkel.’

  Carmen blinked twice. ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘To try to get out of the trip, but then he guilted me. Or, to be fair, I guilted myself, which isn’t hard.’ Amy faux-wailed, attracting a concerned glance from a woman on a nearby lounger. She lowered her voice. ‘Disastrous, I tell you. And we chatted for the whole boat trip. I don’t even know what about but I’m pretty sure we solved a good proportion of the world’s problems. It was just like last night at the bar. We were the last two people standing. Harry gave up in the end and told us to close up when we were done. And then we talked for ages outside Mum’s apartment—because of course he walked me back. It’s like we’ve known each other all our lives.’

  ‘Kind of like siblings.’

  ‘Not from where I was looking.’ Not like siblings at all.

  ‘There’s nothing to stop you guys getting together—legally, morally. You’re not settling for less anymore, remember? And I’m loving seeing you this fired up. The guy is doing things to you.’

  ‘But, ye gods, the number of times he said he was just so happy to have a little sister he got along with so well. He said it was a dream come true, I kid you not. And he keeps saying how stoked he is to have an insta-family without having to marry into one himself. And how stupidly amazing does he look in board shorts? Waaah.’

  ‘Target on approach.’ Car
men’s eyes focused in the middle distance, over Amy’s shoulder. Amy restrained herself from looking. No group-leering today. And she’d already seen him—okay, watched him—pull on a T-shirt, so she knew there was less to check out. ‘And you’re looking pretty darn smoking yourself, little one.’

  Amy arranged her sarong to cover her thighs, not that he hadn’t already seen them in all their glory. The sarong had been a lastminute desperation purchase at the airport—it turned out that even in Melbourne, sarongs didn’t come in black. ‘This is the swimsuit I bought last summer when I was six kilos lighter.’ She’d resisted buying a larger size for this trip because it would be admitting defeat on her so-called exercise regime, and because she was supposed to be paying down her credit card. But when she’d finally been forced to face reality—yesterday—she’d run out of time to buy a new one. At least this little number was a one-piece, with shaping, though the shaping seemed to merely push the rolls around her tummy down to her thighs, like the swimsuit was outsourcing the problem.

  ‘Oh, stop it,’ Carmen said, swatting at her with a highlighter. ‘You’re fully glowing in that sex-goddess way of yours. The picture of health.’

  ‘That’s what you and Mum always say when I’ve put on weight.’ She should have gone to the gym several thousand more times in the last three months. ‘What am I going to do? My plan to get to know him better so I could see his flaws is backfiring, big time. I’ll have to avoid him for the rest of the week. And then the rest of my life.’

  ‘Shhh.’

  ‘It wasn’t that scary out there, was it?’ Josh said, looking quizzically at Amy as he sat on the next lounger along and handed her a beer. A beer. He had first checked that she wanted one—of course, because he was considerate like that—but even the choice of beverage screamed ‘sibling’. ‘The look on your face—it’s like we saw a great white out there.’

  ‘No, no. It wasn’t scary at all. Not at all.’ She took a big gulp of beer to shut herself up. Naturally, it went down the wrong way and she started to choke. And of course he slapped her between her shoulder blades and then rubbed the spot, his hand warm and firm. She shivered. ‘I’m good,’ she squeaked, aimlessly batting her hand toward him.