A Wedding One Christmas Page 3

  Facing your fears, huh? his inner voice mocked. He sighed.

  ‘You’re not a fan of weddings either?’ She sipped from her drink, watching him. ‘Why did you give me such a hard time when I tried to escape it then?’

  ‘Maybe I wasn’t prepared to say “hello, stranger, of course you can join me.”’ He paused slyly. ‘Or maybe I didn’t want to say it to a stranger who has leaves stuck in her hair.’

  Her hand shot up, and she patted her curls in every spot but the ones where the leaves were. He bit his lip to keep from laughing.

  ‘Are you lying to me?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  She merely looked at him. He grinned.

  ‘I promise I’m not.’

  He leaned over and took a leaf out of her hair, offering it to her. It felt...intimate, but he quickly brushed the thought aside as he handed her the leaf . She sighed, and proceeded to stare at it as if it were the cause of all her problems.

  ‘Should I ask?’

  ‘Let’s just say you weren’t the first one I turned to in my efforts to dodge this wedding.’

  He stared at her. ‘Well,’ he said after a moment. ‘Now you have to tell me.’

  ‘Not much to tell,’ she said coolly, looking at her nails. ‘After the third person tried to get me to join in on the wedding celebrations, I hid in a shrub.’ Her eyes lifted and they were alight with amusement. ‘See? Nothing juicy there.’

  An unfamiliar feeling tugged in his chest as he felt his lips twitch. He sat back, wondering if he’d drunk too much coffee and was now feeling the effects of it. Because there was no way he was responding to her. He hadn’t been interested in a woman since—

  Since his breakup.

  Definitely the coffee.

  He reached for the bottle of water he’d forgotten about in the hours he’d been there.

  ‘What is it with people and getting married over Christmas anyway?’ she asked, sitting back in her seat, watching the people around her with a perplexed expression. ‘Is it a South African thing? A global thing? I feel like a festive season hasn’t gone by without someone I know—or run in to, apparently—getting married.’

  He looked at the guests milling around. It triggered some of the memories he’d tried to shut away for the past year. Of a wedding he’d pictured that would never happen.

  Of the conversations, the plans, that had been made before there’d been an engagement. Like when they’d attended his brother’s wedding, and Liesel had said they’d need to keep their guests occupied when they took their wedding photos someday.

  As if she had every intention of marrying him. As if there’d been a chance at a future for them. As if walking away hadn’t been an option. But in reality—

  He shook his head. Ignored the accusations that echoed there. Ignored how there was a whisper beneath the screams. How that whisper was asking him whether she’d fooled him or whether he’d been gullible when he’d believed her.

  Why hadn’t he ordered something stronger, too?

  ‘Must have something to do with the atmosphere,’ he heard himself say. It almost sounded normal.

  ‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’

  ‘Not personally, no. I know a lot of people who do though.’

  ‘Christmas is such a weird time of year.’

  ‘You’re not a fan?’

  ‘Most of my Christmases entailed long church services and awkward family reunions.’ She tilted her head. ‘That’s not exactly the kind of atmosphere I imagined at my wedding.’

  ‘So you do like weddings.’

  ‘No.’ Her head reared back. ‘What? No. Why?’

  Amusement shimmered through him. Since he didn’t think she’d appreciate it, he fought to keep his face straight. ‘You said you imagined your wedding. That means—’

  ‘It means I was speaking hypothetically,’ she interrupted. ‘I have absolutely no desire to put on a flouncy white dress and make vows until death do us part in front of friends and family.’ Her eyes met his, and—reluctantly, he thought—her lips curved. ‘I’ve never imagined white flower petals being strewn across the aisle as I walked down in my flouncy white dress. Or about making those vows beneath a beautiful oak tree with its leaves going orange in autumn and it being draped in white chiffon.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘Obviously,’ she agreed with a quirk of her brow, her smile widening. She shook her head. ‘I may have thought about it. Only when I watch movies, really.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. Besides,’ she said, lifting her shoulders, ‘a lot of that imagining is moot. My mother would kill me if I got married outside.’ At his questioning look, she explained. ‘We’re a Catholic family.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Ah? That’s it?’

  ‘I don’t think religion is the kind of topic you’re supposed to talk about at a first—’ he stopped himself before he could say ‘date’ and hastily tried to recover ‘—meeting.’

  Her eyes sparkled with the unsaid, but she nodded. ‘You’re probably right. Better keep to safe things like the gender pay gap in South Africa.’

  He laughed. Found the tension that had started in him seconds ago dissipate as he did. She had that effect on him, he realised, but didn’t know what to do with the realisation.

  ‘You’ve surprised me, you know,’ she said softly, pushing her mug aside when the waitress put down a glass of brown liquid in front of her.

  How so? he wanted to ask, but stopped himself. That was the type of question that produced dangerous answers. That started dangerous conversations. Conversations he did not want to have with her.

  ‘How can I surprise you when you don’t know me?’

  ‘Because, as you’ve already learned, I’m incredibly judgemental.’ She grinned, and a ball of warmth burst in his chest. Spread through his veins. ‘But I can also admit when those judgements are wrong.’ She lifted her shoulder. ‘I was wrong about you, Ezra.’

  The warmth in his veins heated at the sound of his name from her lips. He desperately tried to remind himself of the hurt he’d felt when his seven-year relationship had fallen apart. Of the pain of it, the anger, that lingered. That had him doubting so many of the things he’d thought he’d known about himself and his life.

  That pain—that doubt—had coloured every interaction he’d had over the past year, and yet now, when he needed it the most, he couldn’t remember it.

  He met the eyes of the woman who’d sat down opposite him less than an hour ago. He couldn’t pretend she wasn’t gorgeous. Or that she didn’t intrigue him with the fire of her personality. With the honesty of her words.

  But he wasn’t interested in being attracted by gorgeousness or being intrigued by fire and honesty. No, he only wanted to build up the courage to face his family after the colossal mistake he’d made. Mistakes, he thought, since moving away from his family to start a new life with his girlfriend was hardly his first error in judgement.

  ‘You’ve surprised me, too,’ he said, picking his words as if they were explosive devices. ‘Mostly because of the contradictions.’ When she lifted an eyebrow, he elaborated. ‘You’ve imagined your own wedding, but you’re so determined to avoid one you hid in a shrub. You don’t want to speak with the guests of the wedding, but you willingly sat down here to speak with me.’

  She didn’t answer him for the longest time. ‘I suppose you’re just going to have to be content with those contradictions, aren’t you?’

  He angled his head. ‘Probably about as content as you’re going to have to be with the fact that your initial judgement of me might not be wrong.’

  * * *

  ‘What does that mean?’

  Angie kept her eyes steady on his, ignoring the sparks that flickered the longer she held his gaze. She wanted to see the emotion in his eyes. Wanted to kn
ow if it would reveal anything to her.

  She didn’t think he knew how expressive his striking eyes were. And though she couldn’t put her finger on what all the emotions there were, she could see one.

  Caution.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He offered her a lazy smile. ‘You’ll be out of here before you have to find out.’

  She didn’t want to think about why, but the words stung. She made sure she remained impassive though.

  ‘Of course.’ She gripped her hand around the glass. ‘I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I finish.’

  ‘I didn’t mean—’

  ‘It’s fine,’ she cut him off with a hard-fought-for easy smile. ‘I need to be leaving soon anyway. If I want to make it home before dark. I mean, to my parents’ house.’

  Why did she keep doing that? Calling Cape Town home? She hadn’t thought of it that way since she’d left. But then, her ‘parents’ house’ wasn’t accurate either. Not since her father had—

  She shook her head. How many times was she going to have to remind herself about this? She’d given herself some leeway because her emotions were up in the air about returning to the place she’d grown up in, but she couldn’t keep doing this. She couldn’t keep exceeding the quota.

  She’d established it for a reason. After the night she’d fallen apart in her living room. She had been in the middle of a foreign country with nothing and no one familiar around her, and she’d told herself she couldn’t keep thinking about it. Yes, she was back home now. And yes, she was returning to her family. But that didn’t mean she wanted to fall apart again. That didn’t mean she wanted to go back to feeling that rawness, that helplessness, that pain.

  She squeezed her eyes closed and listened to the internal voice screaming I told you so in her ear. Even thinking about it made the unravelling begin again. But even if she hadn’t really stopped at the café to gain some semblance of control over herself, she would try. If not for her peace of mind, then for her heart.

  ‘You don’t see your parents’ house as home anymore?’ Ezra asked.

  She opened her eyes, keeping them on her glass as she brought it to her lips for a steadying sip. ‘I just haven’t been back in a long time.’

  ‘What’s long?’

  ‘Almost three years.’

  He nodded. ‘That is a long time. Did you move away for a job?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It was the simplest answer. It also sounded a lot better than I was running from my grief. Or it sounded less incriminating anyway. Every time she thought it, she was overwhelmed with guilt, and Sophia’s words would replay in her head.

  It’s fine, Angie. Leave. I’ll be here for Mom and Zo. You just...leave.

  She didn’t feel like revealing that to Ezra. It was too personal. Too closely entwined with the things she was fighting to keep from thinking about. Besides, he clearly felt the same way about boundaries when it came to personal issues. His comment about how she’d be leaving soon had left its mark. They were two strangers who didn’t owe each other any explanation about their lives.

  ‘So did I,’ Ezra said.

  ‘You left Cape Town for Grahamstown—to take a job?’

  ‘Ridiculous, isn’t it?’

  Her lips curved. ‘It must have been quite the culture shock.’

  ‘It was. Cape Town has millions of citizens. Grahamstown doesn’t even make it to a hundred thousand. And, of course, a good portion of that number are students at the university.’

  ‘I got accepted there,’ she said. ‘But I couldn’t bear to leave my fa—’ She stopped herself in time. ‘The city I’d grown up in yet. Besides,’ she continued, hoping he wouldn’t noticed her blunder, ‘I wasn’t convinced by the idea of living in a town so small.’

  ‘You left Cape Town eventually.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘I said “yet.”’ Her mouth lifted to a half smile. ‘And this was for a job.’

  ‘What job?’

  ‘Teaching. Korea.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh?’ Her eyebrows rose. ‘Did I just hear a scoff in your tone?’

  ‘No,’ he answered, but his lips quirked up, sending a flutter through her stomach. ‘I would never.’

  ‘That’s probably a good idea.’

  ‘Except that it’s so easy, isn’t it?’

  ‘How so, Mr. Judgey?’

  He grinned. ‘Everyone here does it. You don’t even have to have a degree in English to teach English in Korea.’

  ‘Ah, okay.’ She sat back now. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I do have a degree in English. I also did my Honours in English and then taught it for a semester at Free Haven. When I passed my degree—with distinction, I might add—I went to teach in Korea so that I could save money to pursue my dream of writing the great South African novel when I came back.’

  There was a beat before she sighed. ‘Oh, you were being provocative again.’ She rolled her eyes.

  He laughed. ‘I told you it was a bad habit.’ He paused. ‘Does it help if I tell you your resume is impressive?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she answered, then sniffed. ‘Actually, yes, it does.’

  He grinned. ‘Great. Would it also allow me to ask you what your novel’s about?’

  ‘No.’ She sipped her whiskey. ‘Because if you did, I’d have to tell you I lied about what kind of novel I want to write.’

  His smile widened. ‘You mean you don’t want to write the great South African novel?’

  ‘Nope. Though only because there are already so many great novels. I’d never be able to match that.’

  ‘Because you’re not willing to write about the struggles of our pasts?’

  ‘Or about the present,’ she added. ‘Mostly because I’m more intrigued by relationships than anything else.’

  ‘So you want to write...women’s fiction?’

  ‘Romance.’ At his expression, she narrowed her eyes. ‘I’ve freely admitted to my judgemental ways, but honestly, Ezra, I think compared to you, I’m tame.’ She paused. ‘I’m not entirely convinced this comes from being provocative either. At least not this issue. Your tone clearly indicates you have an issue with entertainment for women.’

  ‘It did... I don’t—’

  Angie bit her lip when he broke off. If she smiled now, she wouldn’t be able to keep teasing him.

  ‘It was admiration. The tone. I was admiring you.’

  ‘Admiring me,’ she repeated slowly.

  ‘Yeah. It takes incredible skill to write romance.’

  ‘And you know this because...?’ She tilted her head. ‘Have you written a romance novel in the past? Or is this just you mansplaining something I—as a reader and writer of romance—know much more about?’

  ‘No!’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Are you trying to make me into the bad guy here?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Angie replied. ‘Though I don’t think I’ve enjoyed myself more than over the last few minutes...’ she trailed off, waiting for him to realise what she’d been doing.

  She wasn’t disappointed.

  A smile crossed his face, large and genuine, making his eyes crinkle and taking away a tinge of sadness she hadn’t noticed was there until it wasn’t. She couldn’t say it transformed his features—not when they were already perfect—but it did soften them, making him look more personable. And that made him a lot more appealing.

  She sat back now, wondering how her pit stop had brightened what she’d thought would be a bleak day. It hadn’t started out that way, but it had taken a sharp turn since then.

  Now she wasn’t thinking about what she’d find when she got home. She wasn’t worrying about having to face the blank look her mother had given her when Angie had told her she’d be moving. She wasn’t remembering Sophia’s judgement, or Zoey’s sadness.

  She wasn’t thinking a
bout the damage leaving might have done to her relationship with her family. She wasn’t worrying that that damage was irreparable. And most of all, she wasn’t thinking about how disappointed her father would have been in her for leaving them when they needed her the most...

  ‘I’m not so sure I like you,’ Ezra said.

  ‘Well, that’s what you get for your bad habit.’ She took another sip of her drink, hoping it would settle some of the unsteadiness inside of her. ‘Which, for the record, is probably going to get you into a lot more trouble in the future than anything I’ve dished out.’

  ‘I think I can handle it.’

  ‘Yeah, you did a pretty convincing job just now.’

  Ezra chuckled softly, his face light with amusement. In that moment she knew he was the reason her day had brightened. That bantering with him had made her feel better.

  Something flipped in her chest, then her stomach, and she pushed to her feet.

  ‘Restroom,’ she said quickly, when confusion replaced the amusement on his face, and she hurried away before he had the chance to say anything else.

  The small restroom was as rustic as the rest of the café, and unfortunately, she didn’t have it to herself. Two of the three mirrors had women fixing their make-up, while the third was being used by a woman styling her hair. Not unusual, she thought, but untimely.

  She would have loved to have a minute alone to think, to process, but because there were also three women ahead of her in the line for a cubicle, she knew she wouldn’t get it.

  She briefly considered whether Ezra would notice if she walked outside and took a moment there, but she dismissed it. He would probably think she was bailing on him. After how kind he’d been to her, she didn’t want that.

  There was also the fact that she’d probably be dragged back into the damn wedding again if she went outside. She sighed. Told herself she could hold it together until she got a moment to herself again. She walked out of the bathroom—

  Straight into the old man from the wedding.

  Chapter Three

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked her immediately.