* * *
Callie dressed with particular care.
She wanted to make this a night to remember.
She’d bought a knockout dress for the wedding from a local boutique expecting to show Archer what he was missing out on. Considering what they’d been up to the last few days, the strapless maroon chiffon cocktail dress with its flared skirt had become redundant.
Archer hadn’t been missing out on anything.
Except the one thing she could never give him.
Her heart.
The realisation that she loved him shouldn’t have come as any great surprise. She’d fallen hard during their week in Capri all those years ago—had only been saved from pining by her mum’s diagnosis. But this time around it had hit her harder, and the constant slightly breathless feeling she had when he was near was beyond annoying.
She knew the score: there’d be no romantic proposals under the mistletoe for her this Christmas.
They were leaving first thing in the morning, apparently. Considering how his family had shut him out during his father’s cancer battle she shouldn’t be surprised he didn’t want to spend Christmas Day with them.
She understood what it felt like when family let you down. She’d put up with it from her dad for too long, until she’d wised up and learned to expect nothing from the selfish, self-absorbed guy who valued his carefree lifestyle more than his only kid.
But from what she’d seen the Fletts were a close-knit, loving bunch. His parents had been married for yonks and still held hands, his youngest brother believed enough in romance to get married on Christmas Eve, and even Tom, who should be disillusioned after his wife had run off after less than twelve months of marriage, was keen to settle down again, according to Travis.
But, despite professing a wish to build bridges with his folks, Archer was still refusing to commit to them.
And her.
Foolish to think that way. Once he’d crept under her guard again and they’d fallen into a physical relationship she’d gone into it with her eyes wide open. In it for a short, good time, not a long time. A self-indulgent fling filled with amazing memories to sustain her through the tough times ahead.
In that respect getting involved with Archer again had exceeded her expectations. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered endearment had been imprinted on her brain to resurrect on a cold winter’s night, when she was huddled over her computer working at midnight with a cooling coffee and a bowl of chocolate almonds for company.
Archer had been attentive, charming and altogether gorgeous over the last few days. Little wonder she’d fallen in love.
Her diaphragm gave a little spasm and she dragged in a deep breath and rubbed under her ribs. It didn’t ease the stitch that grabbed her every time she associated the words ‘love’ and ‘Archer’ in the same thought.
She might be a realist, but the thought of spending the evening at a romantic wedding, the night in his arms and waking up together on Christmas morning made her want to bawl.
She had every intention to farewell him tomorrow, but it wouldn’t be easy. Now she finally understood why her mum had secretly pined for Bruno’s love all those years ago. ‘We always want what we can’t have,’ Nora had once said, in relation to Callie’s pony request one Christmas, but by the tears in Nora’s eyes Callie had known there was more to it.
Nora had led a full life, the epitome of a single mum who was loving it, but as a child Callie remembered hearing muffled sobs late at night, and seeing the way Nora lit up when Bruno returned home for a rare visit.
Callie empathised with her mum, but she didn’t want to be that person. She didn’t want to cry over lost love. She wanted to remember the good times and celebrate the second chance she’d had with Archer—even if it ended in tears like the first.
Snatching a tissue from the dresser, she dabbed under her eyes, absorbing the seepage. No way would she cry. Archer would be knocking on her bedroom door any moment and she wanted to wow him—not send him back to the surf school where he’d hidden out all day.
On the pretext of work, of course. A final inspection or some such guff. But she knew better.
He’d opened up a little last night and then emotionally closed down a lot. To the point where, when she’d shut down the program she’d been working on and backed up her work, he’d been asleep when she’d returned to bed. Or pretended to be.
She’d been too drained to care, but when she’d woken this morning to find a terse note and no Archer she’d had her answer to any silent questions she might have been contemplating.
Questions like had the last few days meant anything to him beyond a fling?
Did he feel their connection on a deeper level?
Would he walk away again without a backward glance?
Pointless questions, really, for even if he came up with the answers she wanted to hear it wouldn’t change a thing. Her life was in Melbourne for the foreseeable future; his was traipsing the world. The closest they’d be was in cyberspace, where she’d contact him on a need-to-know basis. End of story.
A loud rap sounded on her door and she blinked rapidly, ensuring her eyes were sheen-free.
‘Be right there.’
The incongruity of the situation struck her. They’d been intimate, this was his house, and yet he wouldn’t open the door to her room.
Yeah, the barriers were already up, and the sooner she got used to it the better.
Attending this wedding, pretending she was happy, would be tough. Then again, compared to what she had to face in the future, she could handle it.
She could handle anything. It was what she did. Capable Callie. Canny Callie. No one ever saw lonely, emotionally fragile Callie, a woman who craved love and affection and a foolproof guarantee that she wouldn’t end up like her mum.
‘Damn,’ she muttered, swiping a final slick of lip gloss across her lips and staring wide-eyed at the mirror so she wouldn’t cry.
She didn’t like feeling edgy, as if she’d snivel at any moment. Considering their impending goodbye she’d have plenty of time for that tomorrow.
Until then...time to put her game face on.
* * *
Archer held onto Callie’s hand through the ceremony, the congratulations, and most of the reception.
He caught her wary glances several times and squeezed her hand in response, as if he never wanted to let go.
The truth was he was absolutely freaking terrified.
Weddings scared him.
The Fletts en masse scared him.
Combine the two? Guaranteed scare-fest.
Thankfully, having Callie meet his family at the barbecue and on the beach guaranteed he was safe from his mum’s matchmaking for once. But holding onto her hand was more than a gesture, and only he knew it.
She anchored him.
Her ability to socialise with ease, to smile and laugh and be absorbed by his family’s mayhem, to make everyone around her feel at ease, was a gift.
Maybe it was all the romantic claptrap in the air? Maybe it was Christmas working its magic? Whatever it was, he found himself strangely reluctant to let her go.
And not just her hand.
Even now, after she’d survived the Flett females’ incessant teasing when she caught the bouquet, after dancing with Izzy and the kids until she hobbled, after being ribbed by his brothers, she stood tall, surrounded by the