by Bronwyn Sell
‘Oh no!’ she said automatically. Not that she was in the habit of telling people what they wanted to hear—she was paid to tell people what they needed to hear. Was he a factor? If not for him, she would have caved with Jeremy, not because she was in love with Harry—it was years too soon for that—but because without him to bust her out of the gloom in the last week, to show her she could come out the other side of this, to give her a glimpse of a possible alternative future, not necessarily with him but certainly in theory, she would have been sitting there lonely and morose when Jeremy knocked. She might have seen his apology as the most efficient solution to her problem, complete with angel choir singing ‘Hallelujah’ in eight-part harmony. She’d wanted her life back, the one she’d had before Jeremy had pushed her away, her Plan A, and there he’d sat on the sofa in her villa, holding it out for her to reclaim.
But, Harry or not, was it still what she wanted? And if not that, then what?
And maybe something else was happening. Maybe Harry made her feel something that she didn’t feel with Jeremy, but was that because a new opportunity was always more exciting than the status quo?
All of the questions, none of the answers.
‘Harry, I know this isn’t a choice between two options. Well, it is, but those options are “all” or “nothing”. I can’t see myself rushing into a relationship with anyone else, whoever that might be. That’s what would have to happen for there to be a real alternative here. A bird in the hand, and all that.’
‘No, no, no. You can’t … You shouldn’t …’ He took a shuddering breath. ‘What I’m trying to say is that you don’t know what opportunities you’ll miss if you …’ He winced. ‘No, I’m not trying to say that. I’m trying to say that you have to make your decision and everyone needs to respect that.’ Back to neutral, damn him. She was fairly certain that last part wasn’t what he’d really wanted to say.
‘What do you mean by the opportunities I’ll miss?’ she ventured. If I go back to Jeremy, or if I try to make something work with you? She willed him to stand up and kiss her, beg her to—what? Move up here? Take him back to Sydney with her? As if she’d allow him to give up everything he loved. Some grand gesture that would make her feel loved, needed, worthy, not too fussy, not too opinionated, not too tall, not too jiggly in the inner thighs? All those voices she was supposed to not give a toss about anymore, but that the Great Jilting had brought back. And how screwed up was even wanting him to kiss her so soon after she’d had the urge to throw herself at Jeremy? Here they were, three adults completely capable in all other parts of their lives and they’d become bumbling fools when it came to the sticky stuff of relationships. At least, she and Jeremy were the fools. Right now, Harry was being the adult in the room, which was so frustrating but so totally Harry.
‘I can’t be a factor in this,’ Harry repeated, leaning back against the sofa with a speed and violence that made her flinch. He shook his head a long time, as if it were himself he was trying to convince. His words had become shaky, like Jeremy’s had been, like he did have a personal stake after all.
‘I’m not asking you to be,’ she said, though that silly little vulnerable part of her wanted exactly that. ‘First, I need to figure out if he’s right for me, and I don’t know that he is anymore, and not just because he dumped me.’ But maybe because I’ve met someone who makes me feel things I don’t remember feeling with Jeremy and more than anything I want to sit on this guy’s lap and kiss the bejesus out of him and feel his hands gripping my waist and escape all this, and surely that’s not a healthy reflection on my relationship with Jeremy.
Harry nodded for as long as he’d shaken his head. He stood and looked at her darkly, hands on hips, contemplating something, and that reckless part of her wanted it to be a hot, desperate kiss. ‘You can have my bed,’ he said eventually. ‘I’ll take the sofa.’
She forced a smile. Hold it together. ‘Such a gentleman,’ she said lightly when she could trust her voice again. ‘I can take the sofa.’
‘A gentleman,’ he repeated with a wryness she couldn’t follow. He stepped close, leaned in, and kissed her on her cheekbone, the same spot Jeremy had kissed. A lingering kiss, but with no promise. She fisted her hands at her sides, forcing herself not to turn her mouth, not to slide her hands around his waist and pull him toward her. ‘Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,’ he whispered.
Me too. ‘No,’ she said, stepping back because she didn’t trust herself, ‘that’s one of the many things I like about you.’
His smile looked as sad as hers felt. ‘In that case, I insist you take the bed. I couldn’t live with my chauvinistic self otherwise.’
She surprised herself by laughing, softly, and it made her feel lighter. ‘Sure.’ Wow, she was one lapse of judgment away from falling in love with the guy.
As she brushed her teeth in his bathroom, she sneakily popped the top off his body wash and inhaled the beeswaxy smell, the precise scent she’d expected. A local artisan brand. Maybe she could buy some to take home. A souvenir of the wackiest fortnight of her life. Or maybe she wouldn’t want the reminder.
She slipped into the bed he’d hurriedly remade, after she’d dismissed his offer to fetch fresh linen from the resort’s laundry supplies. She’d claimed she wanted to save him the effort but her agenda was far less pure.
She snuggled in, shamelessly inhaling his sheets, and slid a palm over the thick, smooth cotton to what she figured was his usual side, given the clock and pile of books on the bedside table. She pictured him lying there, looking across at her like on the beach loungers after the bachelors party.
You don’t know what opportunities you’ll miss.
Harry had fought to keep his relationship afloat, while Jeremy had scuttled his right before it’d hit plain sailing. Was that what she saw in Harry, what she wanted to see in him? The constancy that Jeremy had so dramatically demonstrated he was missing?
And just how would she ever separate the idea of Harry from the reality, when she’d probably never get a chance to unstick the pages? It wasn’t fair to compare the unsullied perfection of Harry, after knowing him less than a week, with Jeremy, whose flaws had revealed themselves slowly, just like with any life partner, even if she hadn’t suspected the dooziest flaw of them all until it was too late. Sure, she and Harry clicked, but it’d take years to establish if they were a forever thing, especially with a long-distance relationship, and realistically, how could it be anything else?
She heard a faint clunk from the living room. If she called his name, invited him in, would he come? A single word. Five letters, two syllables that could change everything. She flopped onto her back. As if she would. Spontaneity and whimsy weren’t her thing after all, in the same way that being un-gentlemanly wasn’t his thing.
No, she couldn’t take him home, but she could take the idea of him home. Slip it into her carry-on bag alongside her paperbacks and lip balm.
You couldn’t shatter a fantasy if you didn’t burden it with the complications of reality.
Trip Review: Curlew Bay
Rating:
Review: The water pressure in the shower was pathetic. It’s all tank water and solar power and all that hippie horseshit. They need to get diesel generators and water tankers in.
32
Josh
Josh stayed in the shower long after Amy had got out. Yes, he needed to shave, but he also needed to get a hold on himself. Last night and this morning had done exactly nothing to blast away the tension. Not that the shower did any blasting either, sadly—it was more a warm, gentle rain.
‘Nice cufflinks,’ Amy said, glancing at the gift box on the bathroom cabinet as she smoothed lotion down her legs. She nudged aside the white towel she was wrapped up in to access her upper thighs. In his mind, he couldn’t help but go there with her.
‘Sanjay forced them on me for the wedding. Can you pass me the shaving gel under the sink?’
She handed it over, contemplating his face awhile, as if she
hadn’t seen enough of him up close in the last ten hours or so. She dried her hands and picked up the box. ‘You don’t like them?’
‘I don’t like it when he gives me expensive presents.’
‘Wait,’ she said, tilting the box to the light, ‘are those real diamonds? And platinum?’
‘Probably. He likes to sneak things like that in. I think it’s how his dad showed he cared—gifts and money. Sanjay once bought a brand-new Land Cruiser and tried to palm it off to me as a spare, saying I’d be doing him a favour because it was a tax write-off. He calls me his charity project because I work in the public service. I usually find a way to give the stuff back.’
‘But he’s just being practical, isn’t he? My dad always brings groceries around, says he bought too much steak or whatever and it won’t fit in his freezer so I may as well have it. They just want to look after us, and I guess your dad especially …’ She trailed off, perhaps realising the shooting range she was strolling into.
‘My dad especially what?’ Normally he’d let a comment like that go, but he had a self-destructive urge to see this one through.
‘Nothing.’
‘No, say it.’
‘Well, you’re a firefighter and he’s …’ Her teeth toyed with her bottom lip, which served him up a memory of her nipping at his lips last night. ‘Um, I didn’t mean for that to sound … I mean …’
‘I know what you mean,’ he said, letting her off, seeing as he was only going there to be a jerk, because that’s what Josh Brennan did the morning after. ‘But I can live fine on my own money. I don’t know what he thinks I’m going to do with it. Pawn it to buy petrol or something.’
She put the box down, loosened her towel and wiped the mirror with one end of it, giving him a glimpse of the glorious world beneath before she fastened it again. Sure, he’d committed her naked body to memory, but the real thing was always better. Maybe they’d have time for one more round before the wedding. And that would be the end of it. Get it out of his system for good. He could pull her right back into the shower now, towel and all.
‘I don’t know if I’d have that self-control,’ she said, and it took him a second to realise she wasn’t indulging in the same fantasy. ‘I mean, my family’s never been broke, and Nan paid for my uni expenses, but we’ve always had to budget, especially when my parents split and had to support two households on the same income. Can’t say I’ve ever had more money than I needed.’
‘I won’t be supporting a family.’
‘I guess not.’
He slid the shower to cool and aimed the head at his chest, turning away from her. ‘I won’t inherit a cent when Sanjay dies, did you know that? It all goes to some charity in India. A stipulation of my grandfather’s will, apparently.’
‘Whaaat?’
‘I guess that’s why he tries to give it to me under the table. Don’t worry, Aims. Viggo is worth just as much, so if your mum plays her cards right, she’ll be good.’ He grimaced, hating himself.
She stilled, a glob of cream on her cheek. ‘What exactly are you suggesting? That my family is looking for a benefactor?’
He bit his gums. Of course he didn’t think that. ‘It’s you who keeps bringing up money, not me.’
‘Josh, are you trying to pick an argument? Like you did last night?’
He stared at the shampoo bottle in the tiled alcove. Fuck. As usual, she saw right through him. Mostly, he was trying to stop himself pulling her into the shower. The night was over, and so was the one-night stand.
‘Oh wow, you are,’ she said. ‘You’re pushing me away. We slept together and you’re pushing me away. Is this what you do? Your modus operandi?’
‘It’s not like that.’ It was exactly like that.
‘So you think I’m after you for your money? Your dad’s money?’
‘Course not.’ Why had he even gone there? He’d reverted to the guy everyone expected him to be, and with Amy, who deserved way better than the usual jerks she dated.
And he’d just turned himself into another one.
Silence. He dared to look at her. She’d folded her arms, making her cleavage even more enticing. The towel had slipped. One more centimetre and he would hastily apologise for being a jerk and haul her back in.
‘Josh, this was a one-off, like we agreed. We both know what this is. What it was. There’s no need to push me away. I’m going. Willingly.’
What it was. The prospect of this being over tipped life onto the bleak side.
‘I’m due at Carmen’s for makeup and hair,’ she said when he didn’t respond. ‘And I need some food first. Definitely a morning for cinnamon brioche.’ She went to open the bathroom door and stopped, as if contemplating something. Would she call him out again for being an idiot? Would he apologise? Would it be all on again? ‘Do you know why I told you I couldn’t snorkel or windsurf?’ she said eventually, her back to him.
Not the question he’d expected. ‘You didn’t want to show off?’
‘That was a lie.’
‘I figured.’
‘I lied because I didn’t want to get close to you. Because I was terrified that something like this might happen. And I heard what you said about me not being your type and there being no chance in hell you’d go there. I knew from the start. I know what this is. So don’t make me out to be some pathetic person who’s throwing herself at you.’ As she opened the door, her towel slipped again and she walked out adjusting it, the door closing behind her.
He shut off the water. Here he was getting all cocky and thinking she’d lied about the snorkelling to get close to him when it was the opposite. Ego, much? Given that she’d spent all that time resisting him, and he’d spent all that time resisting her, how the hell had they ended up here?
And that stuff he’d said about her not being his type? He said a lot of things to get his dad off his back. But yeah, she wasn’t his usual type—and that was the problem. He was into her in a dangerous way.
And somehow, the fact she’d just called him out on his bullshit made him like her even more.
She screamed. Shit. A snake? He snatched his towel, wrapped it around his waist and followed her out. ‘Aims?’
She was eyeing the sliding door. A woman was peering through a small gap where, in their hurry last night, they hadn’t pulled the curtain right across. Thick blonde hair fell over her face, but there was no doubting whose face it was. Hoh boy.
He strode past Amy, unlocked the door and slid it back.
‘Pippa,’ he said, ‘what are you doing here?’
His mother’s gaze fell on him and slid to Amy, then did a tour of the random pieces of discarded clothing in the living room—Amy’s bra on the coffee table, her undies on the arm of the sofa, his boxers on a … bookshelf? Amy’s eyes tracked a similar journey, wide with horror. Had they at least put the condoms in the rubbish?
‘You didn’t hear me knocking?’ Pippa said.
‘We were … I was in the shower,’ he said. Above the water noise, the extractor fan and their conversation, Cody could have landed his chopper on the roof and they wouldn’t have heard. How long had she been out there? Obviously long enough to see Amy leave the bathroom, adjusting her towel, followed by him doing the same. Too late to pretend they happened to be brushing their teeth at the same time?
‘I didn’t know you’d brought a date to the wedding,’ Pippa said, as though Amy weren’t there, while staring right at her.
‘I didn’t.’
‘Oh,’ she said, and Josh could hear the rest. Oh, it’s like that, is it?
‘This is Amy. She’s …’ No, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t deny what had gone on between them, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit the whole sordid story. Not out loud. Not yet. ‘She’s visiting from Melbourne too, for the wedding.’ He shifted his weight, aware of Amy looking at him, no doubt wondering why he was skirting the truth.
‘Nice to meet you,’ Pippa said. He hoped Amy couldn’t hear the tone he could. I won’t both
er learning your name because I don’t expect to see you again.
‘Amy,’ he said pointedly, ‘this is my mum, Pippa.’
‘Hi,’ Amy said, thrusting out her hand to shake and quickly retracting it when she realised she hadn’t quite secured the towel.
‘You said there was no way you were—’ Josh began.
‘You wanted me to come, didn’t you?’ his mother interjected. ‘I’ve been trying to call you since last night. Your phone’s been going straight to the message. But perhaps you’ve been distracted.’
‘The reception here is crap,’ he said weakly.
‘Your father called me yesterday in a panic because the wedding photographer cancelled at the eleventh hour. He begged me to come. And I’m a glutton for punishment, so here I am, ready to capture all the happiness of my ex-husband’s wedding. Sanjay said there was room in your apartment.’
‘There absolutely is room,’ Amy said. ‘There are two bedrooms—mine and Josh’s—and a sofa bed.’
‘I’ll take the sofa bed,’ Josh said. ‘Ma, you can have my room.’
Amy sidled to the coffee table and started picking up her clothes one-handed. ‘I should get to Carmen’s.’
Pippa’s eyes bunched up. ‘Carmen? She’s the one Sanjay told me to report to, once I unpack my kit.’
‘She’s my sister,’ Amy said, backing into her room. ‘She’s right next door.’
‘Your sister? You’re Geoff’s daughter?’ Pippa directed the question at Josh, a good decade of undercurrents in it. ‘Just some random, then?’ she added under her breath, and it took him a second to click she was repeating the text he’d sent her from Fossil Cove.
Amy closed her door briefly, and emerged seconds later in a black kimono, a dress bag over her arm. Was it as obvious to Pippa as it was to him that she was butt-naked underneath? She slipped out the open door with an overly bright, ‘Catch you two later!’
Josh followed her, to apologise for his mother, to … he didn’t know what, but something … but he reached the door and stopped short. Geoff was standing on the lawn in front of the apartments, talking to an old guy with a white beard. Bad enough that Pippa had caught them wearing nothing but hotel towels and guilty looks. He couldn’t risk Geoff following the breadcrumbs too.