by Bronwyn Sell
‘I can’t have a relationship, Amy.’ He inched a hand toward hers, paused, and retracted it. ‘You know that.’
‘That wasn’t my question. Josh, tell me you’re not in love with me and I’ll drop the subject.’
The skin around his eyes twitched. This was it, the moment of truth. No way could he look her in the eye and tell her he didn’t love her.
‘I’m not in love with you, Aims,’ he said, his gaze unwavering even as his voice juddered.
She broke eye contact, staring blindly across to the kitchen. ‘See, I don’t know if that’s—’ Stop. Was she seriously about to go there? Was she going to contradict him, when he’d told her flat that he wasn’t in love with her? She had that little pride? Almost anything was fixable, but not that. Tell me you’re not in love with me and I’ll drop the subject. That was the deal.
He shuffled closer and went to put an arm around her.
‘Please don’t comfort me,’ she said, abruptly standing. She’d allow herself one more try and that was it. ‘Just … hear me out.’ She grunted. ‘And I really didn’t want that to sound so whiny.’
‘It didn’t.’ He stood slowly, slipping his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. ‘But Aims, there’s nothing you can say that will change my mind.’
‘Oh my God,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘You are so stubborn.’
His eyes twitched. ‘I’m not being stubborn. I’m being consistent.’
‘Will you just please hear me out? Will you give me that much?’ And now she was pleading. Pleading was not in the plan. What the hell was the plan again?
He gave a slight shrug. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘I’m in love with you, and we’re perfect for each other—perfectly imperfect—and I think we should take the risk of making this real.’ It came out faster than she’d practised, but at least she’d remembered her lines.
‘Where has this come from? Why now?’
‘Not from nowhere, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s been building for a long time—all along. I’ve buried it because I was scared, because I wanted to be with you so much, which makes so little sense when I say it aloud. It’s just …’ She felt the pinch in her tear ducts again and stared at the ceiling until it passed. ‘I had a conversation with Carmen that crystallised things.’
‘Carmen. Of course.’
‘It has nothing to do with her.’ Or the quiz, not that Amy was about to tell Josh she’d let the internet decide her course of action. It had just opened her eyes to reality, that was all.
‘It’s always got something to do with a family member.’ He fell silent, his jaw clamped, his gaze fixed on a corner of the rug. After what seemed like an age, he took an audible breath through his nose. ‘Look,’ he said, returning focus to her with far too much sadness in his eyes for her liking. ‘The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt you but I can’t tell you what you want to hear. I never meant to lead you on and I should have ended it ages ago because, yeah, maybe I knew at some level you were getting too invested in this but I just didn’t want to …’ He turned his head, his lips flatlining.
‘Josh,’ she said, stepping closer so he was coerced into looking back at her, ‘for once in my life, I want a real boyfriend. I’m over undefined relationships. I’m over going along with someone else’s plan—or lack of a plan.’
‘If that’s what you want,’ he said, his voice deepening again, ‘that’s what you should have.’
‘Are you serious?’ He was coming around, just like that? She let her lungs fill.
‘But not with me,’ he added quickly. Her breath stalled. ‘You deserve someone to love you.’
‘I want that to be you.’
‘Then we need to end this now,’ he said, gently.
Harry
It was arguably the most sexually charged awards dinner of the Conference of Australian and New Zealand Marine Conservationists since Dame Gilda Agnew’s keynote on the mating habits of the larger Pacific striped octopus.
Harry tried valiantly to concentrate on this year’s keynote, which he couldn’t even swear to the title of, but all he really wanted to focus on was Sophia, who was actually listening. How she looked in that dress. How she smelled. Not the perfume he remembered, but something spicier. He could almost taste it, and maybe he would before the night was over.
Seeing as he knew only a handful of people in the room, he’d expected the two of them would be left to their own devices in a corner. But she was holding court with the randos at their allocated table like it was the Oscars and she was a nominee. Everyone seemed to assume they were a longstanding couple and they hadn’t bothered to clarify. Still, playing nice to the other attendees while barely getting a chance to say a word to each other was only increasing the tension. A hand slipped onto a knee or thigh or hip. A smile that implied a promise. A whisper mouthed so close to an earlobe that it might as well be a kiss. And that one all-too-brief moment when they’d found themselves alone in a corridor and he’d pulled her aside and kissed her properly, and her body had responded as fluidly as the fabric of her dress.
As the speaker paced the stage, Harry studied the way Sophia’s hair fell in soft curls down the creamy, lightly freckled skin of her back, and imagined nudging it aside and kissing her neck. How did a wild island boy wind up in a room like this with the likes of her? He gave a quick jolting shake of his head, as if a fly had landed on him. Except that the fly was the reminder of their logistical incompatibility, and it could buzz right off. This might not be what his life was like, 364.8 days of the year, but he would enjoy tonight for the reprieve it was, be Sophia’s type for a few hours, even if his shoes were killing him.
The room broke into sustained applause, making him jump. The speaker had finished. At last. He stood and applauded with everyone else, nodding in earnest admiration along with the man beside him.
‘Do you do this kind of thing often?’ he said to Sophia as they adjusted their seats to face inwards, ready for dessert. ‘Go to functions and things? You’re so good at small talk with strangers.’ And so seemingly comfortable in those red stilettos.
‘Yeah, but it’s not for fun nearly often enough. It usually has something to do with work, even if it’s just networking. You still have your work face on, you’re always on-brand. A lot of business starts with conversations at events like these.’
‘Yeah, I don’t really have a work face.’
‘No.’ She smiled broadly. ‘You’re you, always—from what I can tell.’ He narrowed his eyes at her qualification, another reminder that they didn’t know each other all that well, not in person. ‘And I’m having a much nicer time here with you than at my usual events. That keynote was fascinating.’
‘It really was. And here was me thinking tonight would be a drag.’
‘Huh! Were your expectations of my company that low? Did you think you’d get snarky, hungover, pathetic Sophia?’
‘Hey, I was talking about my expectations before I got the genius idea to invite you.’
‘I know. I wasn’t actually fishing for a compliment.’
‘It didn’t occur to me that you were. Though I was about to give you one—and not because you invited it—but now I can’t because you won’t believe me.’
‘I make it a habit never to believe what people say about me, for better or worse. A lot of people think I’m a bitch and a lot of people think I’m charming. If I always believed what the last person said, I’d never know who the hell I was.’
‘Very wise.’ He couldn’t imagine anyone thinking she was anything but charming, but she was forthright enough to make a formidable opponent in the courtroom, or in whatever forum she did her thing. ‘And I like snarky, hungover Sophia too.’ He liked every Sophia he’d met so far. ‘Though, to be fair to all the Sophias …’ He ran a thumb across the thin fabric covering her thigh, and could swear goosebumps rose beneath it. ‘She’s tied equal with naked starfishing Sophia. And with tonight’s Sophia. In fact, tonigh
t’s Sophia may be my favourite yet.’
Tonight’s Sophia laughed, all red lipstick and white teeth and sparkling eyes. He could almost feel that pull that Amy was always on about.
‘Harry, it may be weird to say I’ve missed your company when we only hung out for, like, a week—and you ran away for part of it—but I really have.’
He resisted the urge to defend his honour on the whole running-away thing. It was possible there’d been an element of escape in it, which was hard to reconcile now. ‘Me too.’ He leaned in, swept her hair back and nuzzled the satiny skin below her ear, smiling at her soft sigh. ‘Tonight really can go only one way, can’t it?’ he whispered.
‘That’s my plan exactly.’
‘I like a woman with a plan.’
‘I’m a woman with many plans.’
‘We could make a plan to skip dessert? Have it up in my room.’
‘No,’ she murmured, drawing out the word. By the movement of her jaw muscles, he could tell she was grinning. ‘Not yet. I’m enjoying this anticipation way too much. I may even make you dance with me first.’
‘So cruel.’
‘But worth it. I think you’re going to like Midnight Sophia best of all.’
AMY: So I took the risk.
CARMEN: The one in the quiz? And? Can you talk? Like actually on a phone or other live audio-sharing device?
AMY: Don’t really want to talk yet. Just wanted to tell you, that’s all. And I can hardly breathe.
CARMEN: In a good way, I hope?
AMY: No.
CARMEN: Oh shit.
AMY: Yeah.
CARMEN: What happened?
CARMEN: I’m so sorry. I pushed you to do this.
AMY: This is not on you. At all.
CARMEN: I was sure he’d wise up. And I was living vicariously. You don’t get hurt that way. But now you’ve been hurt and I’m the world’s worst sister. And I’m making this all about me! Shutting up and listening now …
AMY: It’s so not your fault. I’ll email you. Can’t talk. Brain’s all fuzzy. Stand by to get dumped on.
CARMEN: I’m all ears. And hugs. And tears. Wish I was there xxxxxx
SOPHIA: So it’s Sunday morning and I’m checking in as promised.
SOPHIA: Amy? You there?
SOPHIA: Earth to Amy?
SOPHIA: I guess you’re busy. With Josh maybe??? If you want the update, I’m willing to keep up my end of the bargain whenever you’re ready.
SOPHIA: I’ll give you the G-rated version, I promise.
CARMEN: Aims? I’ve been trying to ring. Did you email me? I didn’t get anything and I’ve been refreshing like every minute. I’m trying all your places—texts, calls, emails, messaging. I’m contemplating calling Dad. Or commandeering the helicopter. Please, please call. Or email. Or whatever. Love you so much. Here for you always. xxxxxxxxxxxx
FROM: AMY LOWERY
TO: CARMEN LOWERY
SUBJECT: Warning: contents may depress
So I don’t really want to go into details because it makes me want to die inside just to think about how dumb it was, but I basically told him I was in love with him and gave him an ultimatum. And I was so stupidly sure he’d come round, but he chose option B.
And he was so goddamn nice and sorry about it that it drove me nuts and I kind of lost it and, after he said we had to end it, I shouted and ranted and ugly-cried and ugh. Like that would make him suddenly see me as his soulmate? And he just stood there and took it like it was a punishment. Not my proudest moment. I could kind of see myself doing it in slow motion but I couldn’t stop.
And that’s about it! He moved out there and then and I haven’t seen him since. He’s rung a few times but I’m choosing conflict-avoidance. He left a note when he came back to get his stuff to say he’ll look for jobs back in Perth in the new year. He said it’s because his mum’s going through some stuff, but I know it’s partly because he’s giving up on us. I mean ‘us’ as in the family, not as in him and me—which never officially existed, so what’s to give up? Which means he’s giving up his big family dream. I feel so bad. I keep thinking that it’s like that saying about if someone shows you their true self, believe them. He was straight-up with me this whole time and I’m the fool and I’ve messed it up for both of us, but especially for him. I didn’t just take a nap under a coconut palm. I built a freaking treehouse.
Hope that all makes sense. My brain is mush.
Talk soon xxx
CARMEN: Hi Josh! Just juggling accommodation and catering for Christmas. Have you confirmed your flight times?
JOSH: Hey sis! Sorry, forgot to tell you. I’m working Christmas so won’t be coming.
CARMEN: I thought you were working New Year’s.
JOSH: Both, now. You know how it is—first to join the team takes the hit. And a lot of my workmates have families.
CARMEN: You know you have a family too?
JOSH: You know what I mean. Families of their own. Kids. Hey, have you spoken to Amy lately? She okay?
CARMEN: Maybe you need to ask her that?
JOSH: I’ve tried. She won’t return my calls and texts and stuff.
JOSH: You still there?
CARMEN. Yeah. She’s not so happy.
JOSH: I figured. Guess she told you what happened?
CARMEN: Yep. I’m the only one she’s told.
JOSH: I feel like a piece of shit. I don’t know what to do. Everything was going fine. I thought we were on the same page.
CARMEN: So did she.
JOSH: Yeah. Different pages, it turned out. Different books. Different fucking libraries.
JOSH: I so fucked up.
JOSH: Carmen?
CARMEN: I think you do know what to do.
CARMEN: What you *want* to do.
JOSH: Come again?
CARMEN: Get on the same page.
JOSH: ?
CARMEN: Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are a piece of shit if you can’t see what’s in front of you.
JOSH: Okay.
JOSH: How am I not supposed to take that the wrong way?
JOSH: Carmen?
AMY: Sophia! I am sooooo sorry. I got your message and was in the middle of something and meant to get back to you and then … stuff. I want details!
AMY: G-rated details.
SOPHIA: You were in the middle of something? Something good, I hope?
AMY: Not that kind of something, sadly. The opposite of that kind of something.
SOPHIA: Everything all right?
AMY: Nothing that a good vicarious love story won’t fix.
SOPHIA: I’m so sorry to hear that. And I don’t know if it’s a love story, but it was about as perfect as a night gets. It was so nice to let go and have a good time without putting any expectations on it. And he’s just so damn lovely.
AMY: Photos or it didn’t happen.
AMY: G-RATED!
SOPHIA: Hold the line, caller.
AMY: You guys look INCREDIBLE!!! That dress is AMAZING!!! Scuse capitals and exclamation marks but they’re fully warranted. And he doesn’t look too bad either, for a cousin. No wonder something happened.
SOPHIA: Yeah, it was bittersweet tho. Awkward thing is that the photo ended up in the gossip pages—it was a roving photographer at the function and I just didn’t think. One of the headlines was, ‘Sophia’s Meat-Cute.’
AMY: Eew.
SOPHIA: Coz my family’s in the processed meat business. Have I mentioned that?
AMY: No, but still. Eew.
SOPHIA: Another one was, ‘Heiress Steaks her Claim.’ And a blogger figured out who Harry is and what he does and where he lives and named him, and then Jeremy was all, ‘What the hell?’ So now Harry and I are apparently officially a thing though in reality we’re not, and he says your nan has printed out the stories and photos and pinned them to the wall of her office and is more or less planning our wedding.
AMY: Blimey, I’ve missed a lot! Where does the bitter part of the bittersweet come in? P
retty sure Harry would laugh off the gossip.
SOPHIA: He thinks it’s hilarious. He’s making up his own bad puns. He just this morning texted: ‘We’ll meat again.’ The bitter part is that the same rules still apply that have always applied. We’re logistically incompatible. Geographically incompatible.
AMY: What about long-distance?
SOPHIA: Hard to make babies long-distance.
AMY: COUSIN!
SOPHIA: Or raise them.
AMY: Why do we do these things to ourselves?
SOPHIA: Because we’re all lemmings. Want to tell me what’s going on? But I understand if you don’t.
AMY: Not really, soz. But thanks.
SOPHIA: You got someone there to talk to?
AMY: I have Carmen standing by the phone. She picks up before it even rings.
SOPHIA: I’m here too, if you want a neutral party. Or a weekend in Sydney? I have an awesome new apartment.
AMY: Thanks. I mean it—you’re making me cry here. Not that that’s hard to achieve at the moment, lol. But I’m just counting down to Christmas now.
SOPHIA: Sorry to rabbit on about me and Harry. It was probably the last thing you needed to hear.
AMY: It was just what I needed. I’m glad you guys got it together. Well, not together-together but maybe someday?
SOPHIA: IDK. It partly feels like unfinished business, and partly like if I walk away now, I’ve had this perfect unsullied experience, which makes up for the ton of tripe I’ve waded through this year.
AMY: What happened to you wanting a job up there?
SOPHIA: So Harry told you about that? Don’t tempt me.
AMY: It could seriously be an option. I mean, if you didn’t mind earning like a tenth of your current salary. Or could you work remotely? Or just go off the grid and raise beautiful (immaculately conceived) babies in paradise?
SOPHIA: Not really, not in my current job. And I’m not prepared to drag Harry into a wild experiment that would be doomed to fail, let alone drag kids into it. Money aside, coming back to work after the unhoneymoon reminded me that I’m happiest when I’m useful. I’m damn good at my job, and that’s a nice feeling. I couldn’t be as good at anything I could do on the island. And I would never, ever take Harry away from his life there. Like you say, it’s too much of a risk.