Chapter 26

The next day, Nate was typing furiously on his laptop when the door to the Nate Space opened.

“Hey.” Eloise poked her head in.

Nate quickly saved his final draft. “You’re up early.”

“It’s after ten.”

“Oh.” He looked out the window over the sink. Dappled sunlight pierced the thick canopy of the trees surrounding his writing hut. “I must’ve lost track of time.”

“Your secret project’s going well?”

He smiled down at the screen. All was right in his make-believe world again. Writing this novel had been more cathartic than he’d ever anticipated. Although, it might’ve also had something to do with the gorgeous woman padding towards him, her big winter coat on, cheeks and nose tinged pink. Or perhaps the way she’d curled her body around his once they’d got home in the wee hours after the engagement party. She hadn’t pushed him to open up more and Nate appreciated it.

“It is.”

“Have you changed your mind about me reading it yet?”

“Nope.” A little nagging voice suggested it might be the best thing he’d ever written. Unlocking new parts of himself to give his characters a depth he’d never achieved before. This manuscript had more of his soul on the pages than ever before. Although, considering his previous stories were police procedurals and he wasn’t a serial killer, there hadn’t been a lot of opportunity to infuse those stories with too many fragments of his life and personality.

But this time, there was a softness that he hadn’t been able to share before. A confidence that stemmed from no longer seeing being vulnerable as a terrible thing. And the more he wrote, the easier it was.

“What about the revisions for the last SMK book?”

This he could answer. A grin stretched across his face. He’d finished his final edit yesterday.

“I’m just about to send them to Garrett and my editor.”

He loved how Eloise automatically edged closer, wanting to be a part of such an important moment for him. She perched on the edge of the old woodworking desk his laptop was sitting on, crossing one long, slender leg over the top of the other. Nate kept one eye on where the skirt of her jumper dress had ridden up while he quickly attached the file his agent was waiting for. A few clicks later, he was done. There was more work to be done, of course, but for now? One chapter of his life was ending. Wrapping his arms around Eloise’s waist, Nate buried his head in her side. Closed his eyes. There hadn’t been a lot of sleeping going on lately, and it wasn’t because of the reason the Old Girls would’ve assumed.

“Fancy going to a dance lesson later to celebrate?” Eloise dragged her fingers through his hair, and he groaned for several reasons. One: he wanted to pull her into his bedroom and spend the day wringing every ounce of pleasure out of her body and two: fuck, he hated the dance classes.

“Last one before the wedding,” she murmured.

It was hard to believe Charlie and Sera were finally, finally getting married at the end of the week. A bitter taste lingered in Nate’s mouth remembering the way Charlie had teased him at the party last night. Ryan’s behaviour had been worse, but it was like the closer Charlie got to the world Nate had left behind, the chasm between them grew.

“What have you got on today?” he asked without moving, wanting to stay right here in this moment forever.

“I’m going into Melbourne to pick up the bridesmaid dresses and grab a few things for my exchange. Depending on timings, I’ll probably head straight to the dance lesson after that.”

It was like having a bucket of cold water thrown all over him. Nate closed his eyes, pushing away the wave of feelings that came with knowing every day was a step closer to her departure.

“Want some company?” he mumbled.

“Yeah?” Eloise tilted his head so their eyes locked together. It was foolish to pretend he wasn’t going to spend all his time with her before she left. “I’d love some.”

* * *

If there was evera tulle shortage in the world, Nate knew which shop was to blame.

Even if he’d only just found out what tulle was. Rows of wedding dresses lined the edges of the room, two plush couches in the middle, with candles—some of Alice’s brand, actually, he’d have to tell her—flickering atop a marble coffee table in between them.

He walked around the room slowly, hands tucked in his pockets, while Eloise explained which dresses she needed to collect. On the drive in, her phone had vibrated constantly. Something about Sera changing her mind about which shoes the bridesmaids would be wearing at the last minute.

His ears pricked up at the panic in her voice. “Oh no. I don’t need to do that.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide. Several long white garment bags were lying across the counter with a pile of shoe boxes next to them. It was a good thing they’d brought his car. All of this wouldn’t have fit in Eloise’s.

“It’s best to check the length with the new shoes,” the shop assistant said. The lady lifted the bag and gestured for Eloise to follow her. With a heavy sigh and a twist to the end of her plait, Eloise did.

“I won’t be long,” she said to Nate.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, needing to check his emails anyway. Garrett should’ve sent a confirmation through for the manuscript. A group of women entered the store, chatting excitedly and making a beeline for the two couches. Tossing a cursory glance around the boutique again, Nate located a leather armchair in the back corner near the fitting rooms. Perfect.

He was scrolling through his phone when he heard Eloise’s voice. “I really think it’s fine,” she was saying.

“Up, please,” another woman said. Nate leant forward, his chair positioned so he could see the raised platform in front of several mirrors. Eloise shuffled into view, a figure-hugging dress clinging to all her curves. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, highlighting the slender line of her neck, her collarbone. Places Nate had traced with his lips, his hands.

As she twisted, the colour of the dress changed. In some lights it was cream, but then Eloise would turn, and Nate would swear it was a pale pink. Regardless of whatever light trickery was going on, add a veil and a bouquet, and she was a bride.

Fuck, she was gorgeous.

Nate forgot to breathe when the sales assistant crouched in front of Eloise, helping her into a pair of satiny high heels.

“Take a step for me,” the lady said, and Eloise did. “Now spin.”

The back view was even better than the front. Eloise’s ass looked incredible. High and tight, a perfect curve that Nate longed to sink his teeth into, hold on to while he thrust inside her … on their wedding night. Shit. Where had that come from? He’d known from the start that this was a limited-time thing. Seeing her like this was bittersweet. It was a perfect glimpse into the future she deserved, even if he thought she’d choose a different gown. One that wasn’t so structured and formal but more whimsical, with ethereal touches and textures.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” A different sales lady asked him, appearing out of nowhere.

He blinked, the lights dancing in front of his eyes. “Yes.” His voice was hoarse like his throat was full of sandpaper.

“You’re a lucky man. Although, we don’t get a lot of grooms coming in for fittings.”

Nate shook his head too quickly, and the woman blanched.

“Oh, no. I’m not the groom. We’re not. She’s not even the bride. That’s a bridesmaid’s dress.”

“Ahh, of course, the Fletcher wedding. Such pretty dresses.”

Nate nodded. “Mmmhmm.”

“I can’t wait to see the pictures.”

Nate grimaced, remembering how Charlie and Sera had signed the exclusivity agreement with Celebrity magazine. Their wedding would feature in the same issue as his profile and the article on Kathleen’s Place.

His phone rang, and he recognised Garrett’s ringtone.

“Excuse me,” Nate said to the saleslady and strode towards the front door. He needed some fresh air anyway.

“You sly motherfucker,” Garrett said as soon as Nate answered.

“What?”

“Talk about a plot twist.”

Nate ducked into the alley between the shops. “Mate, I don’t understand.”

“Look at you. Picking your moment. Shooting your shot. Taking a swing at the big leagues like it ain’t no thang.”

His gaze searched the graffiti on the wall in front of him like it held the answers to whatever Garrett was going on about. “I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So, you didn’t mean to send Jemima Jenkins a copy of your new romance novel? Also, since when do you write romance?”

All the air rushed out of Nate’s body, and he thrust his hand forward, steadying himself against the wall. “No. I sent back your edits.”

Garrett’s laugh made Nate’s blood run cold. “No. You didn’t. You replied to the wrong email. The one about the contract negotiations with Jemima Jenkins and her team. And you sent us a copy of something called TSOU which stands for …”

It stood for Nate was a fucking idiot.

* * *

Something was wrong.Eloise was sure of it. Nate had been quiet—quieter than normal—ever since they’d left Julietta’s Bridal Boutique.

“Do you want to grab some lunch?” Eloise asked as they walked down one of Melbourne’s famous laneways. She’d have to steer clear of anything with carbs, though, and her daily slices of Nate’s sourdough would have to wait until after the wedding. Her bridesmaid’s dress, which was now lying flat in the back of Nate’s Pajero with all the seats flipped forward so it wouldn’t crease, was much tighter than she’d expected.

“Sure,” Nate said, his eyes firmly glued to the ground.

Eloise pointed at a small shopfront with several big tureens of soup steaming up the window. “This okay?”

She got the feeling Nate would agree to anything she suggested. His mind was clearly otherwise occupied. “I don’t mind.”

After they ordered—celery soup for both, no bread for her—they huddled at a small table near one of the large outdoor heaters. People hustled past, and Eloise could’ve sworn a few did a double take when they saw Nate. One guy even had a Mustangs beanie on. He stopped and asked for a picture, which Nate said yes to, the smile on his face never reaching his eyes. He listened attentively, cheeks flushing at the praise the fan heaped on him for both his football career and his books. After several handshakes and ‘good to meet you’s’, the fan left, and Nate settled back in his chair.

A waiter brought over their soups, and Eloise cupped her bowl, warming her hands.

“Where’s your bread?” Nate asked.

“My dress is tighter than I thought it would be.”

“Your dress is gorgeous,” Nate said, adding a little pepper to his soup and buttering his bread roll.

“I didn’t realise you saw it.”

“It’s not what I was expecting.” One side of his mouth curled upwards like he was trying to smile but never managed it.

“You weren’t expecting us to all be wearing wedding dresses as well? I thought that might’ve just been me, but it’s part of ‘Sybella’s wedding vision’.”

This time, Nate did give her a tiny smile, and Eloise wanted to lean across the table and pull him in close, brush her lips across his before his happiness disappeared. Instead, she settled for picking up her spoon and swirling it through her soup. When the silence between them stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable, Eloise spoke. “Is everything okay? You look like someone just kicked Echo.”

“I stuffed something up,” Nate mumbled.

“Maybe talking about it would help. I’m a very good problem solver.” She flashed him what she thought was a winning smile, but Nate just tore his bread in two, crumbs scattering around his plate.

“I’d rather not.”

Even though his words were soft, she still felt the sting of his rejection. It was just another reminder that every time they got closer, Nate would slink backwards and hide part of himself away from her.

His phone started vibrating, doing a little dance across the wooden table. The screen lit up with the name Garrett.

“Are you going to answer?” Eloise asked.

“Nope.” His shoulders slumped even further.

“What if it’s about your deal with”—Eloise lowered her voice—“Jemima Jenkins?”

“Trust me, it’s not about that.” Nate shoved half his bread into his mouth, sending a clear signal that this conversation was over.

“Hey, Nate! Eloise!” Callum called out, and they both turned towards the laneway. He and his father strode towards them, both wearing football guernseys.

“Hi,” Eloise said. “You guys off to the game today?”

“And the National Gallery of Victoria,” Callum said, with shooting Nate a quick smile.

“Really?” Nate asked, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Yep, we’re doing things that make us both happy. Aren’t we, Dad?”

“Apparently, it’s never too late to try something new or change your mind,” Callum’s dad said, but there wasn’t any anger or resistance in his tone.

“That sounds familiar,” Nate said softly, some light returning to his eyes.

“We better go,” Callum said. “See you at art class and training!”

“What was all that about?” Eloise asked after Callum and his dad had left.

“Just a conversation Callum and I had about it being okay to want more for ourselves. To prioritise our happiness, even if it’s easier said than done sometimes.”

Nate’s phone vibrated again, and he sighed, flipping it over so the screen was facedown.

“Sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Eloise offered, but Nate just shook his head and withdrew into himself.

* * *

Nate clenchedhis teeth together and stole a look at the clock in the middle of his dash before pushing out of his seat and locking his car. Dance class was the last fucking thing he felt like doing right now. All the talking. The people. Trying to remember the steps.

Knowing Jemima Jenkins had read what he’d written.

About Eloise. About himself. He’d held nothing back.

And she wanted to publish it if Garrett’s text messages could be believed.

It was one thing to write a fictionalised version of his and Eloise’s story for himself. A way of letting him live out his fantasy. But it wasn’t for anyone else’s eyes. Shame weighed on him heavily like a boulder on his chest. Not about what he’d written because it was good, but it wasn’t his to share. He’d unwittingly betrayed Eloise’s confidence. Given away things they’d shared and talked about in confidence. And even though he wasn’t going to publish it, he hated himself for being so reckless. No one was ever supposed to see it.

He mumbled a hello and excused himself, pretending he needed the bathroom.

Really, he just needed a minute.

He was hiding in one of the stalls—not a proud moment in his life—when the door to the men’s room opened and closed.

“Nah, mate, it’s not like that,” Ryan said. When no one answered, Nate assumed he was on the phone.

“Eloise’s too nice. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Besides, she’s hung up on Nate fucking James. God knows why. For a supposed footy player, he’s about as masculine as a pink G-banger. Part of the reason why I chased after her was because I knew it would piss him off. And shit, you should see her tits. Always begging for attention. Talk about a woman who needs a proper fuck.”

Nate’s stall door flew open, and he was moving before he’d even blinked, striding towards Ryan. He snatched the phone from Ryan’s hand, ended the call and tossed the mobile onto the vanity where it landed in a pile of bubbles underneath a leaking dispenser. A glob of soap dripped onto Ryan’s stupid face. Seriously, who had a picture of themself as their screen saver?

Assholes, that’s who.

And Nate was in no mood for assholery right now.

“You don’t speak to Eloise or about her like that. Or any woman. Do you hear me?”

Ryan stepped into Nate’s personal space with all the swagger and casual smugness of someone who truly didn’t give a shit. “Or what? You gonna hit me? Might damage your manicure.”

This fucking guy. The more Ryan mouthed off, the calmer Nate became, even if his hands had clenched into fists. He wasn’t going to get drawn into throwing a punch or starting a fight. He wouldn’t give Ryan the pleasure of knowing he’d got under his skin.

“Just stay away from her.”

“Kind of hard when she’s my partner. Pressing her body up against mine. I can feel the heat of her pus?—”

“Do not finish that sentence.” Nate took a deep breath and did his best to ignore the triumphant gleam in Ryan’s eyes.

“Oh, fuck off. Like you haven’t said the same shit. You lived in locker rooms for years and now you’re trying to act all pious and like there aren’t pictures of you with multiple women on the same night. Everyone knows you’re a piece of shit, Nate. You can create charities and teach little kids how to fingerpaint and catch balls, but it will never eclipse the past. You’re just like the rest of us. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Eloise is waiting for me to teach her what it feels like when a real man touches her.”

Nate’s teeth ground together.

“It’s so much fun when they’re begging for it, isn’t it?”

Nate didn’t trust himself to speak just yet.

Ryan slapped Nate’s chest. “Actually, where are my fucking manners? Thanks for warming her up for me, bro.”

Nate took a step forward, his gaze catching on his reflection in the mirror. He towered over Ryan, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to control his emotions. “Don’t,” he said to Ryan, and to himself.

Thumping Ryan would feel good. Really good. But it wouldn’t solve this problem. Ryan would go on talking shit about women and antagonising other dudes just to get a reaction. He’d also press charges before Nate could say ‘douche canoe’. Nate took another deep breath and crossed his arms, stopping his appendages from accidentally swinging out and smacking Ryan one. But enough was enough. All the jokes and teasing were too much. Every time it happened, it chipped away at a bit more of himself. Nate was supposed to be working on not making himself small.

For himself.

And for Eloise.

For what they could be one day.

When he spoke, his voice was low, a hair above menacing. “You’re going to forget about Eloise. You don’t know anything about her. Not her name. What she looks like. You’re going to pick up your stuff and get out of here. She’s too good to even be in the same room as you. You’re always talking about how you’ve left Wattle Junction behind. Make that the truth. There’s nothing here for you anymore. You’re just a sad and lonely manipulator who tries to take advantage of good people so you can feel better about yourself and I’m so fucking sick of it.”

Without realising, Nate had been edging forward, corralling Ryan into the corner of the bathroom right next to the hand dryers. His hands shook.

“And if I don’t? What are you going to do? Run to Charlie and dob on me?”

“If you think Charlie will tolerate you talking about his sister that way, you clearly don’t know him at all. And I won’t just tell Charlie. I’ll tell everyone. Make sure there isn’t a person in Wattle Junction who doesn’t know what a dick you are.”

“That’s defamation.” Ryan puffed out his chest, and Nate rolled his eyes.

“It’s not actually but feel free to sue me, and I’ll bury you in legal fees.”

“And now you’re threatening me?”

“I prefer to think of it as being encouraging.” In a way that wouldn’t result in an awkward visit from Raff and/or a mug shot.

“All this so you can have her, huh? Couldn’t stand that she might belong to someone else?”

“Eloise Hamilton will never belong to anyone but herself. And that’s the way it should be.”

“What am I supposed to tell Charlie? ‘Sorry mate, I can’t be part of the wedding.’ It’s in six days.”

“You don’t need to tell me anything,” Charlie said. Nate hadn’t heard him open the door. “Just get out of here. We’re done. I’m going to go and tell Sera this dance is a dumb idea.”

For once, Ryan was quiet. He shot Nate a look of pure hatred and stalked out of the room, his loafers squeaking against the floor.

“You all good?” Charlie asked Nate.

“Yeah, buddy. I’m fine.”

When Charlie nodded and turned to walk away, Nate saw who was standing behind him.

Eloise.

Her eyes were wide, framed by the thick lashes that made her look more innocent than she really was.

“You defended me,” she whispered once they were alone together.

“Of course I did.” He would until the day he died.

“That thing you said about manipulators. Was that just Ryan or …”

Eloise was far too perceptive. No wonder she was so good at her job and everyone loved her.

“My college girlfriend did something similar to me.” Nate took a long, slow breath and gathered his courage. “She tried to manipulate me into marrying her by getting pregnant. I was shocked, but she’d been my anchor through the craziness of college and the combine and the draft. I bought a ring and everything. Not just because it was the right thing to do but because I thought we were in love.” He had to stop. Take a beat. Just for a second. “And then I surprised her for one of her ultrasound appointments. The baby was older than she said and the dates didn’t match. Turns out she’d been cheating on me for years.” A bitter laugh bubbled up his throat, singeing his airways like a flame. Even years later, the betrayal still cut so deep.

Eloise glided towards Nate and he swallowed. Prepared himself to tell her the rest but when he opened his mouth, Eloise shook her head. “I would never do that to you,” she said. “I’ll never cheat.”

It wasn’t everything he’d always imagined her saying, but it was so much better because it was honest and real. Nate was powerless to stop himself from ignoring every reason why this was a bad idea—no, a terrible idea—when Eloise wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.

Then she repeated the words she’d said after that disastrous bridal dinner or whatever it was all those weeks ago.

“Take me home, Nate.”