by Nicola Marsh
As if thoughts of her parents could conjure them up, her cell buzzed with an incoming call, and a glance at the screen had her heart sinking.
She loved her dad, she really did, but Alec Ryland, once the life of every party, never failed to bring her down these days. She contemplated letting the call go to voice mail so he could leave a message, but with dad emblazoned on the screen and Samira and Pia casting her surprised glances as she hesitated, she felt obliged to take it.
“I’ll be back,” she mouthed, as she grabbed her cell and slipped out of the hall into a quiet corridor leading to the kitchen.
Taking a deep breath, she stabbed at the “answer” button and injected enthusiasm into her greeting. “Hey, Dad, everything okay?”
Rookie mistake and something she’d learned not to ask him since the shock separation from her mom fourteen months ago, because the question never failed to elicit a long-winded diatribe along the lines of, How could she do this to me? Thirty-five years of marriage means something to me. Is there someone else?
Harper had her own hurt to deal with after her parents’ separation; she didn’t have a lot left over to give.
“Not bad,” he said, his morose tone belying the casual response. “Just thought I’d check in with my best girl.”
Her dad never called after nine on a Saturday night, so Harper knew there was more to this.
“I’m actually at a wedding, Dad, so can’t really talk—”
“Is your mother out on a date tonight?”
Harper’s heart sank. She’d fielded various versions of this question for the last year, and thankfully, she could answer honestly because she had no idea about her mother’s love life and didn’t want to know.
“I’ve been busy, Dad, so haven’t spoken to Mom since last week.”
Another truth that hurt, because since her diagnosis Harper had withdrawn from her mother. Not because she didn’t love her gorgeous, immaculately presented mom, but because spending time with her mom reinforced how flawed Harper felt.
Glamorous Lydia Ryland had always valued appearances and had taught her daughter the same. Ironic, that the professional makeup course they’d done together for fun ten years ago now came in mighty handy for Harper to hide the ugly white patches on her skin.
There was another reason, a more potent one, why Harper didn’t hang out with her mom anymore. Deep down, where she didn’t want to acknowledge the truth, she blamed her mom for causing her dad so much pain.
Big, bold, loud Alec had swanned through life like nothing bothered him. He’d openly adored Lydia but hadn’t spent a lot of quality time with her; instead, he’d been at work or hanging out with his mates in their man caves. Yet when her parents were together they were happy. For as long as she could remember her parents entertained, their house constantly filled with people and laughter and food, heady stuff for an only child. She’d basked in her parents’ love, proud of their solid marriage.
What a farce.
“You’d tell me if you knew anything, wouldn’t you, love?”
If her mother was dating again, the last person she’d tell was her father. “How about I pop in tomorrow for a visit, Dad?”
“I’m playing golf all day. Maybe during the week?”
“Sure thing.”
She liked how her dad tried to keep up his routine—beers in the man cave at a mate’s house on a Friday night while watching the footy, takeout fried chicken night with his coworkers on a Monday, golf every Sunday—but she could tell he was doing it by rote rather than real enjoyment.
“Call me if you need me, Dad, okay? Anytime.”
“Thanks, love. Bye.”
He hung up, leaving her with the same heavy feeling in her gut she hadn’t been able to shift since her folks had broken the news to her.
She may have had some dating disasters in her time, but nothing had shaken her belief in love and commitment as much as learning the parents who she’d thought idolized each other were separating.
Nobody had cheated or been abusive. They’d simply drifted apart; at least, that’s what her mom had said. Harper thought there was more to it but hadn’t delved; not when she believed the stress of being pulled in two directions, supporting both parents, had triggered the vitiligo, and she didn’t need further angst. Selfish, maybe, but her world had tipped on its axis the day her parents separated, and a couple of months later when Colin had dumped her after she’d revealed her true self to him . . . she knew then she had to start taking better care of herself, and a self-imposed man ban was part of that.
So what was it about Manny Gomes that had snuck under her carefully erected guard?
What she’d done may have been immature, but she knew she wouldn’t have gotten so riled up unless it had mattered what he thought of her. Disparaging her food styling had really hit home, and rather than walking away as she normally would’ve done, she’d gone down the path of game playing?
Definitely not her style, and she intended to avoid the dastardly doc for the remainder of the night.
She wandered back into the hall and looked around for Samira and Pia. They’d vanished from the small table where they’d been chatting earlier, and Harper caught sight of them on the dance floor with their husbands.
Rory and Dev had their arms wrapped around Samira’s and Pia’s waists, the women’s wound around their husbands’ necks, and both couples were staring at each other so intently the band could’ve stopped playing and they wouldn’t have noticed.
And in that moment, standing on the outskirts of a wedding with five hundred people dancing and laughing and drinking, Harper had never felt so alone.
6
Manny caught sight of Harper standing at the back of the hall, her wistful gaze watching the people on the dance floor. She looked . . . lost, forlorn, and he experienced another twinge of guilt.
He hadn’t meant to disparage her job. He’d sounded like a pompous idiot, and while getting a cream facial for his troubles had been extreme, he’d probably deserved it. Though he’d rather focus on what had preceded her impulsive action.
That kiss had blown his mind.
He hadn’t been celibate since he’d graduated med school. Before that he hadn’t had a lot of time for dating. But since, he’d more than made up for it. Long shifts and exhaustion didn’t make for relationships, so he enjoyed the fleeting nature of his encounters instead. The women he dated knew the score and he had a few names in his cell, friends who were bonking buddies, fellow medicos who didn’t have time for the complications of a relationship either.
Which meant he’d kissed a lot of women over the years, so what was it about Harper that had captured his attention so thoroughly?
“Why are you fixated on that girl?”
Trust Izzy to notice his interest in Harper. His grandmother had an inbuilt radar for an available woman within a five-hundred-foot radius.
“What girl?”
His feigned nonchalance earned a disgusted scoff. “That bridesmaid. You’re staring.”
He couldn’t help it. Harper had something about her . . . a beautiful, cool exterior that screamed hands-off, hiding a feisty core if the way she responded to his kiss was any indication.
“We talked earlier. She’s nice.”
Izzy snorted. “Don’t go getting any ideas.”
“And what ideas may they be?”
“She’s not for you.” Izzy waggled her finger. “Mixed race marriages are complicated.”
They’d had this discussion before, when Manny pointed out the entire Anglo-Indian race came about through mixed marriages. But Izzy had a hang-up about it and he rarely bothered correcting her these days; what was the point when he had no intention of getting married, ever?
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not marrying her.” He nudged her gently. “Surely you don’t disapprove of me having a little fun?”
/>
Izzy’s nose crinkled. “Please don’t elaborate.”
“I won’t, but I know you’re not as shockable as you pretend.”
She waved him away. “Go. Have your fun. But remember, you must find a wife before I die.”
Considering Izzy was a sprightly eighty-six, he hoped that would be a long way off, ensuring he’d still be a happy bachelor at fifty and beyond.
“You’re far from that,” he said, “meaning the chances of me walking up the aisle anytime soon are zero.”
Izzy’s gaze slid away from his in a way he didn’t like. Then again, most elderly didn’t like thinking about their mortality. He hated contemplating a life without Izzy in it. His chest ached at the thought.
“I’m so proud of you.” She spoke so softly he had to lean closer to hear her. “I’ve been blessed having you in my life.”
His throat tightened at the glimpse of tears in her eyes. “Hey, weddings are happy occasions. What’s brought this on?”
“The thought of me not being at yours,” she said, clutching her chest, and winking.
Relieved she’d lightened the moment, he slid an arm around her waist. “You’re one in a million, you know that, right?”
“I know,” she said, leaning into him.
His gran was in a strange mood tonight, no doubt about it, and when he raised his head to glance toward the back of the hall again, Harper had vanished.
7
Harper knew catching up with her mom for a coffee the day after her dad’s phone call wasn’t a good idea. She might accidentally let slip how much he was still hurting after fourteen months of separation, because she couldn’t get it out of her head how morose he’d sounded last night.
But that’s exactly why she’d organized this late brunch. She’d been fielding too many similar calls from her dad lately, and she wanted to know what was going on in her mom’s life so she could allay his fears, or confirm them, once and for all.
“How was Nishi’s wedding?”
“Good.”
Lydia arched a perfectly shaped brow. “Nishi’s been your best friend for years, and there were five hundred people at the wedding. Surely, you can give me more than that?”
Harper wanted to say, Surely you can give me more information about your private life, but it wasn’t the time. Their smashed avos had just arrived, and seeing as she hadn’t eaten much at the wedding from nerves about her food presentation, she was starving.
“Nishi and Arun looked amazing; me, along with the other bridesmaids, rocked our saris; and the groomsmen were great.”
One in particular, but she wouldn’t dwell on that. She’d managed to avoid Manny for the rest of the wedding after their kiss’n’cream incident and had escaped as soon as the bouquet was tossed. But not before checking that every one of her thirty business cards had vanished from the buffet table. Seeing Nishi so happy had been the highlight, but watching people snap pictures of the food had come a close second.
“Why are you blushing?”
Trust her mom to notice. Before her separation, Lydia Ryland had been obsessed with Harper’s love life. She’d offer fashion and hairstyling tips, would ask about every date and generally hang on every word of Harper’s tales. Her mom had tolerated Colin, but Harper could tell there hadn’t been any genuine liking there. Her mom valued appearances, and Colin slouched around in torn jeans and sweatshirts when he wasn’t in his chef’s whites.
Sure, her mom had made all the right I’m sorry noises after he’d dumped her, but Harper knew her mom was secretly glad and thought she could do better.
Since then, her mom had stopped showing interest in her dating life. She never questioned why Harper hadn’t dated since Colin. Harper had initially been relieved and had assumed her mom had withdrawn to nurse her own hurt. Besides, the last thing she needed while struggling with the diagnosis of an autoimmune disease and the long-term effects to her skin and self-esteem was her mother’s well-intentioned attention to detail with her appearance.
But as time passed and Lydia continued to become more insular, Harper had missed her mom’s advice, no matter how nitpicky it had seemed at the time.
“I must be flushed because my latte is too hot.” Harper blew on it. “But I need the caffeine hit.”
Lydia obviously didn’t buy her glib fib, but thankfully didn’t call her out on it. Besides, thinking about Manny shouldn’t make her blush. That kiss and its follow-up had been an anomaly, the practiced routine of a guy capable of getting any woman he wanted. But she didn’t want. Her body’s traitorous reaction to his kisses had been nothing more than visceral, courtesy of her man ban.
“So how are you, Mom? Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Harper didn’t mean to sound judgmental, but Lydia’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“I’m fine. Keeping busy. Can’t complain.”
“Which tells me exactly nothing. Are you still consulting at the beauty salon? Going out with friends?” She hesitated a moment before adding, “Seeing anyone?”
Lydia flashed a tight smile before focusing on making a vertical incision down the middle of her sourdough toast slathered in avocado and feta. “I pop into the salon once a week if they ask me. And yes, I’ve been to the National Gallery for a new overseas artists’ exhibition, a concert at the Arts Center, and a high tea in the Dandenongs all in the last fortnight.”
“Great,” Harper said, making a mess while hacking at her toast, waiting for the all-important answer to her last question.
“As for dating, I’m not going to tell you because you’ll tell your father and then he’ll continue to bug me.” Lydia forked a perfectly proportioned piece of square toast into her mouth and chewed, effectively buying herself silence. “More than he is already.”
“We used to tell each other everything,” Harper said, sadness making her stomach churn and effectively ruining her appetite. “Most of my friends were envious of us being besties. Even Nishi, who’s super close with her mom, used to mention how close we were.”
“Are,” Lydia corrected, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. Not that she needed to. Her mom’s budge-proof coral lipstick remained intact, without a toast crumb in sight. “We are close, honey, but I’ve just been busy.”
Probably with a man. Maybe her dad was right and her mom was dating someone? The sorrow in her gut congealed into a solid lump of misery because a small part of her, the part that still believed in the magic of rom-coms and meet-cutes and happily ever afters, hoped her parents might reunite.
“Too busy for your daughter?”
Lydia pinned her with a disapproving stare. “Don’t go all judgmental on me. We both lead independent lives, and mine happens to be more hectic than usual at the moment.”
Harper couldn’t hold her tongue a second longer. “Who is he, Mom?”
“There’s nobody,” Lydia muttered, but this time her mom was the one blushing.
“You owe it to Dad to tell him if you’re seeing someone, before he finds out from someone else.”
And she’d rather that person not be her. Her folks still had a lot of mutual friends who hadn’t taken sides after the separation. Then again, she could break the news gently.
“I don’t owe that man anything.” Lydia stabbed at her toast with particular viciousness. “We’re separated, remember?”
Harper rolled her eyes. “How could I forget? What with you gallivanting all over town and too busy to catch up, and Dad calling me constantly to find out what you’re up to, it’s pretty hard not to notice you’re estranged.”
Apart from her hidden romantic, what had her holding out hope was the time factor. More than a year had passed since they’d separated, meaning her mom could file for divorce. But Lydia hadn’t, and the one time Harper had asked her about it her mom had a mini meltdown.
“I’m sorry for not being around a lot lately.” Lydia ga
ve up the pretense of trying to eat and set her knife and fork together in the middle of the plate. “I’ll try to do better.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I get it.” Feeling rotten for sending her mom on a guilt trip, Harper reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “But for the record, I miss this.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I miss us.”
In reality, she missed everything. The occasional movie date with her folks, the family dinners where they’d end up having to order in because Lydia had tried some fancy recipe that always ended in disaster, the good-natured grilling about her poor choice in men. Being an only child, she’d always been close to her folks, and their insular family of three had made her feel loved in a way she’d never emulate again.
Pretty pathetic, being thirty and still lamenting the loss of her parents’ marriage, but they’d never know how deeply their separation had cut her.
Because if Lydia and Alec Ryland, who were perfect for each other, couldn’t make it after thirty-five years together, there was no hope for her.
8
It always amused Manny that his friend Samira, who’d spent over a decade living in glitzy LA, now resided in suburban, cosmopolitan Dandenong.
Melbourne had some high-end suburbs—Toorak, South Yarra, Malvern, Armadale—and considering the combined salaries of a physical therapist and TV reality show host, Samira and her husband, Rory, could’ve chosen to live pretty much anywhere. Instead, they resided in this modest, modern town house a few streets back from the cultural hub of Dandenong, where people of many nations mingled amidst the shops and marketplace. Considering their place was only one main road away from Kushi, Samira’s mother, he figured regular free child-minding for their son, Ron, was part of the attraction.
He hadn’t seen the happy couple for two months, discounting Nishi and Arun’s wedding. Then again, he hadn’t really been focused on his friends at that function, what with his hands—and face—full of a feisty food stylist and cream, respectively.