Deserted Island, Dreamy Ex

Meg made a zipping motion over her lips as she continued. ‘But Avery and Barton were both decent guys and you seemed happy. Yet the closer the wedding got both times, the more emotionally remote you were. Why’s that?’

Because she’d been chasing a dream each time, a dream she’d had since a little girl, a dream of the perfect wedding.

The dress, the flowers, the reception, she could see it all so clearly, had saved pictures in a scrapbook.

What she couldn’t see was the groom—discounting the magazine pic of Jared Meg had pasted there as a joke when they’d been dating—and while Avery and Barton had momentarily superimposed their images in her dream, they ultimately hadn’t fit.

Avery had entered her life six months after her parents died, had been supportive and gracious and non-pressuring. She’d been lost, grieving and he’d helped her, providing security at a time she needed it most.

It had taken her less than four months to figure out their engagement was a by-product of her need for stability after her parents’ death and she’d ended it.

Not that she’d learned.

Barton had been a friend, supportive of her break up and the loss of her parents, so supportive it had seemed natural to slip into a relationship eight months after Avery had gone.

While their engagement had lasted longer, almost a year, she’d known it wasn’t right deep down, where she craved a unique love-of-her-life romance, not a comfortable relationship that left her warm and fuzzy without a spark in sight.

She’d been guilt-ridden for months after ending both engagements, knowing she shouldn’t have let the relationships go so far but needing to hold onto her dream, needing to feel safe and treasured and loved after the world as she knew it had changed.

Her family had made her feel protected and when she’d lost that she’d looked for security elsewhere. She just wished she hadn’t hurt Avery and Barton in the process.

‘You know why you really didn’t go through with those weddings. It could do you good to admit it.’

Meg nudged her and she bumped right back. She knew what Meg was implying; after Jared, no man had lived up to expectations.

While she’d briefly contemplated that reasoning after each break-up, she’d dismissed it. Jared had been so long ago, had never entertained the possibility of a full-blown relationship let alone a lifetime commitment and he’d never fit in her happily ever after scenario.

Liar. Remember the day he walked in on you in your room-mate’s wedding dress while she was away on her honeymoon? The day you joked about it being their turn soon?

Not only had she envisioned him as her perfect groom, she’d almost believed it for those six months they’d dated.

Until he’d dumped her and bolted without a backward glance.

‘I guess the closer the weddings came on both occasions, the more I realised Avery and Barton didn’t really know me. Sure, we shared similar interests, moved in similar social circles, had similar goals but it was just too … too …’

‘Trite.’

‘Perfect …’ she shook her head, the familiar confusion clouding her brain when she tried to fathom her reasons for calling off her much-desired weddings. ‘… yet it wasn’t perfect. It was like I had this vision of what I wanted and I was doing my damnedest to make it fit. Does that make sense?’

‘Uh-huh.’

Meg paused, squinted her eyes in the Icebergs’ direction. ‘So where does tennis boy fit into your idea of perfection?’

‘Malone’s far from perfect.’

As the words tripped from her tongue an instant image of his sexy smile, the teasing twinkle in his eyes, the hard, ripped body, flashed across her mind, taunting her, mocking her.

Crunching loudly on the tip of her ice-cream cone, Meg sat up, dusted off her hands.

‘You need to do this.’

When Kristi opened her mouth to respond, Meg held up a finger. ‘Not just for the promotion or the possibility of winning all that cash. But for the chance to confront tennis boy, finally get some closure.’

The instant denial they’d had closure eight years ago died on her lips.

He’d walked in on her in that dress, had reneged on their dinner plans and avoided her calls afterwards. Except to call her from the airport before boarding his plane for Florida; and she preferred to forget what had transpired during that gem of a phone call.

Meg was right. While the promotion and prize money were huge incentives to spend a week with Jared stranded on an island, getting closure was the clincher.

Standing, Kristi shot Meg a rueful smile. ‘Remind me never to ask for your advice again.’

‘Don’t ask if you don’t want to hear the truth.’

That was what scared Kristi the most. In confronting Jared, would she finally learn the truth?

About what really went wrong in their relationship all those years ago?

Elliott ordered another double-shot espresso, slid his wire-rimmed glasses back on, peered over them.

‘What gives between you and Kristi Wilde? I’ve never heard you mention her.’

Jared dismissed Elliott’s curiosity with a wave of his hand.

‘Old history.’

‘A history I have a feeling I need to know before we get this project underway.’

Elliott tapped his stack of documents. ‘There were enough sparks flying between the two of you to set this lot alight and I don’t want anything threatening to scuttle this documentary before it’s off the ground. So what’s the story?’

‘I met her when I first moved to Sydney. Spent a few months hanging out, having fun, before I headed for training camp at Florida. That’s it.’

‘All sounds very simple and uncomplicated.’

‘It is.’

Jared downed a glass of water before he was tempted to tell Elliott the rest.

The way she was totally unlike any of the women in his usual social circle back in Melbourne. Her lack of pretence, lack of artificialities, lack of cunning. The way she used to look at him, with laughter and warmth and genuine admiration in her eyes. The way she made him feel, as if he didn’t have a care in the world and didn’t have the responsibility of living up to expectation hanging around his neck like a stone.

No, he couldn’t tell his mate any of that, for voicing his trip down memory lane might catapult him right back to a place he’d rather not be: hurting a woman he cared about.

Elliott rested his folded arms on the table, leaned forward with a shake of his head.

‘Only problem is, my friend, I know you, and simple and uncomplicated are not words I’d use to describe you or any of your relationships.’

‘It wasn’t a relationship,’ he said, an uneasy stab making a mockery of that.

While they’d never spelled it out as such, they’d spent every spare moment in each other’s company, had spent every night together, had painted this city red, blue, white and any other damn colour, and belittling what they had to assuage his friend’s curiosity didn’t sit well with him.