to a family like this? To be surrounded by love and laughter? She’d never known it, and she’d never felt her deprivation so acutely as now.
Her dad had done that to her—taken away any semblance of a happy family upbringing—and while she’d given up on him a long time ago it was moments like these when she could easily throttle Bruno Umberto.
She could thank him for her dark hair and eyes, her love of pasta and her quick-fire temper, but there was little else Bruno deserved her gratitude for.
The self-absorbed man who’d now married four times, who lived life on the edge and loved the same way, had breezed in and out of her life like a flitting butterfly.
Since Nora had been diagnosed he hadn’t been near them, and the odd e-mail didn’t cut it.
The genetic testing had proved she hadn’t inherited the mutated gene from her mum. Luckily she hadn’t inherited something far more deadly from her father.
His selfishness.
She’d be there for her mum whatever it took, whatever she had to sacrifice, however much it hurt.
‘You’re kinda spaced out.’ He waved a hand in front of her face. ‘Everything okay?’
She dredged up a dazzling smile to fool him. ‘Fine.’
She’d ensure everything was fine tonight, for come tomorrow their dalliance would be over. But for a fleeting moment she wished she had Bruno’s selfish streak and could demand this wasn’t the end.
‘Hey, surf dude, when are you going to introduce us?’ A tall, broad-shouldered guy who had the Flett blond good-looks sat next to Archer and jostled him.
Archer grinned and elbowed him back. ‘Callie, this is my cousin Jonesy.’ He draped a proprietorial arm across the back of her chair. ‘Jonesy, this is my friend Callie.’
‘You’re a stunner.’ Jonesy reached across Archer and shook her hand vigorously, his smile goofy rather than leery.
‘Thanks,’ she said, grateful when Jonesy started interrogating Archer about wave conditions for the upcoming season.
Friend.
He’d introduced her as his friend, and while it might be the truth it sounded so distant after what they’d shared.
All her one-on-one pep talks with her voice of reason meant nothing in the face of reality.
Mistletoe kisses, passionate love in the sand dunes and cuddles on the balcony aside, she was right back to where she’d been in Capri.
Wishing for a miracle.
Wishing for him to love her.
After what she’d been through with her mum, she’d given up on miracles a long time ago.
What could be so different now?
But she wouldn’t waste her life pining. She’d move on ASAP.
Starting first thing in the morning.
* * *
Archer couldn’t figure it out. One minute Callie had been kissing him with all the passion and exuberance he’d come to expect from her, the next she’d retreated.
Not that it was obvious to anyone but him. She danced and giggled and ate two pieces of red velvet wedding cake, apparently having a ball.
But he could tell. Every time she glanced his way he saw the shadows. Fleeting, willow-o-the-wisp flickers of...what? Pain? Regret? Disappointment?
He’d wanted to ask what was wrong on their drive home, but she’d been trying hard to fill the awkward silence, chatting non-stop about his family and the ceremony and the exchanging of gifts. And he’d been happy to let her talk, still trying to assimilate the truth behind his dad’s secrecy all those years ago.
He’d wanted to thank her for encouraging him to swallow his pride and give his family a go, for making him see beyond his anger and resentment. But she hadn’t stopped talking. Anything to avoid silence.
Yeah, there was definitely something wrong. Or maybe she just felt weird about their impending departure tomorrow?
Not that she should. He had it all figured out. Make tonight a night to remember, wake up with her in his arms Christmas morning, then talk to her when they arrived back in Melbourne.
He had a rough plan that he’d come up with over the last few hours.
His dad was right. His pushy brothers were right.
Callie was a keeper.
He’d be a fool to let her go.
He hadn’t figured out all the logistics yet. He’d never done a long-distance relationship. Hopefully with a little help from her they’d figure out how this would work.
The thought of having her in his life made him want to ditch the tux, grab his board and head for the beach—but to celebrate, not to escape. He wanted to crest a wave, ride a tube, to see if anything could beat the adrenalin rush of realising he didn’t have to lose Callie.
Not this time.
‘I know you said no gifts, but I’ve got you something,’ she said, strolling towards him on the balcony before sliding onto the love seat next to him.
He shook his head. ‘Should’ve known you wouldn’t listen,’ he said, wondering what she’d think of his gift when he presented it to her tomorrow.
He’d arranged it online ten minutes ago, as part of his grand plan, while she’d been ‘turning back into a pumpkin’—her words, not his—exchanging her dress and up-do for T-shirt, leggings and a loose ponytail that left tendrils curling around her face.
She looked tousled and tired and casual, and she’d never looked so beautiful.
‘It’s nothing big. I brought it with me. Didn’t want to be caught empty-handed. It’s not much.’
She was bordering on babbling, and he covered her hand with his to calm her. ‘It’s from you. I’ll love it.’
Darting a nervous glance at him, she gnawed on her bottom lip, her nerves puzzling. It was only a gift. Then again, considering the yearning he’d glimpsed when his family were handing out gifts after the wedding, and the way she’d clammed up about her family celebrating the Christmas holidays, he figured maybe presents were a big deal for her.
He took his time, tugging on the gold ribbon, fiddling with the knot, sliding his finger under the sticky-tape.
‘Hurry up,’ she said, practically squirming with impatience.
‘I see you’re a rip-it-off-in-one-quick-move girl,’ he said, putting her out of her misery by tearing the paper in three broad strips to reveal something that snatched his breath with the same surreal, suffocating sensation he’d had being caught in a rip once.
‘What—? How—?’
He
