Chapter 5

Eloise yanked her beanie off and winged it through her open bedroom door as she stomped down the hall towards the kitchen.

Bloody Bianca.

If Eloise had a dollar for every time Bianca had said something inappropriate or flirted with Nate and Teddy, she wouldn’t be able to use her lack of funds as an excuse as to why she couldn’t do the exchange.

Her parents and Joanie were sitting at the dining table with plates of lasagne and salad in front of them. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Just catching up on a few little jobs around the place,” Michael said.

A wave of guilt washed away Eloise’s frustration. She’d been promising to clear out the gutters for ages, but with all her extra hours, she hadn’t got to it. One glance at her dad’s dirty overalls confirmed he’d picked up her slack again. She still hadn’t called the arborist about the big gum trees in the backyard either. Tomorrow. She’d do it then. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.” Michael waved her apology away. “You’re busy, and we needed the distraction.”

That’s right. Her parents had met with Charlie, Sera and her folks this morning to finalise the seating plan. Why it needed to be a six-person job was a mystery to Eloise, especially when Charlie’s share of the guests wasn’t even a fifth of the list.

“You sit. I’ll get your dinner,” Joanie said. “You’re home later than normal.”

“I stayed to help with the kids’ sports session. How did everything go with the Fletchers?” Eloise sank into the chair next to her dad.

“It’s helpful to have them here to assist with the last-minute details,” was all Mary said.

The perfect public relations answer told Eloise everything she needed to know. “That bad, huh?”

“Want to guess how many people are coming to the wedding?” Joanie placed Eloise’s plate in front of her. The scent of garlic, basil and oregano made Eloise’s mouth water. Joanie’s lasagne was famous and deservedly so.

“It hasn’t gone up, has it?”

Mary’s smile thinned out to a flat line. “Four hundred and twelve now.”

“Wow.” What else was there to say? Eloise didn’t even know half that many people.

“It’s an enormous waste of money if you ask me.” Joanie picked up her fork and used it to spear a piece of cucumber. “They’d be better off putting that money into a deposit for an investment property.” No one mentioned that there was no need for Charlie and Sera to buy their own home. The Fletchers had given them one as an engagement present. It wasn’t jealousy coursing through Eloise’s body, either. She and Charlie had grown up with everything they needed, but they’d also witnessed firsthand how hard their parents had worked for it all. Not that she was suggesting the Fletchers hadn’t done the same, but it was still mindboggling that Charlie was marrying into such a different world.

“It’s all sorted now.” Mary’s tone made it clear she wanted to change the topic of conversation. “What’s new with you, my girl? Did you get feedback on your uni stuff yet?”

“Yes, we could use some good news,” Michael added.

Eloise reached for her water glass. What was the harm in telling her family about it? Even if she couldn’t go, being picked by Professor Armstrong was still a compliment, and it would cheer her folks up. “I’ve been asked to apply for the exchange at the American Art Therapy Institute again.”

“Wait. Don’t say another word. I’m getting a nice bottle of wine so we can celebrate.” Joanie was up and out of her chair before she’d finished speaking, her hand squeezing Eloise’s shoulder as she passed her.

“You don’t have to do that. Honestly. I’m probably not going to apply.”

Mary twisted around and retrieved four wine glasses from the cabinet behind her.

“Why not?” The confusion on Michael’s face was so sweet. “Look at everything you’ve done for KPs and the wider community. They’d be lucky to have you.”

“Exactly,” Joanie said, reappearing with a bottle of merlot.

“It doesn’t matter because I don’t think I can go anyway.”

“Why?” Mary, Michael and Joanie asked in unison.

Eloise put her fork down and buried her head in her hands. “I won’t be able to get enough leave, and I can’t quit my job. I love my job. The whole point of doing my master’s was so I could expand the programs offered at KPs. Seems counterintuitive to give that away so I can move to Arizona for a year.”

“But what about your dreams?” Mary asked, her eyes shining.

“Mum.”

“No, think about it. You’ve always put everyone first. Here’s a chance for your big adventure. An opportunity to spread your wings and fly?—”

“To the other side of the world!” Eloise said.

“The best things in life almost always involve taking risks, darling,” Joanie chimed in. “And as someone on KP’s committee, I’m confident your job won’t be an issue.”

“It doesn’t matter. I probably won’t get it.”

Some people, like Nate, were meant for great things and lives filled with big changes and twists and turns. But there were just as many people who were destined to move about in the shadows, content with their lot in life or who took their time to chase their dreams. There was nothing wrong with knowing her own limits.

“Is this because of money?” Michael wiped his mouth with his serviette and pulled out his phone. Eloise would bet he was logging into his banking app.

“It’s not.” She lied. This wasn’t a conversation she was prepared to have with her parents. Not when they were finally getting ahead and had almost paid off their mortgage. Her whole life, they’d sacrificed and gone without so she and Charlie didn’t miss out. No way was she going to let them choose her dreams over their own again.

“We could—” Michael started.

Eloise shook her head firmly. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s okay.”

“When do you have to apply by?” Joanie asked.

“There’s a bit of time.”

“Promise you’ll give it a go,” said Mary.

Eloise picked up her glass and stared at the deep red liquid as she weighed up what to say next. She’d spent the last few days talking herself out of applying. Letting her fears squash the whispers of excitement that blossomed whenever she thought about saying yes, but one glance around the room reinforced what she already knew. Sitting here with her parents and Joanie, she could be honest. “It would be amazing, but I don’t know if I could do it. It’s a lot.”

Michael levelled her with a small smile, his eyes twinkling. Oh boy. She knew what was coming. One of her father’s famous guilt trips. “We’re going to be very disappointed if you don’t at least try, Eloise. Do it for us, please?”

* * *

Nate was typinga half-baked scene outline into the notes on his phone when the door to the dance studio opened. He didn’t look up, just kept tapping away at the screen because if he didn’t get a finished draft to Garrett soon, his agent would be banging down his door. Supposedly, Jemima Jenkins had loved what they’d already sent over and wanted more.

“Hey handsome. Why so serious?” Bianca said.

The ballet barre that spanned the long, mirrored wall bumped into Nate’s side as he stepped backwards. “Are we early?” He looked around the empty studio.

Bianca finger-walked her hand up his chest, and Nate didn’t even attempt to hide his cringe. “Who cares. It’s nice for us to have some alone time.”

They’d have to agree to disagree about that. Even though Nate hadn’t been making progress on his draft at home, he’d still rather be sitting at his computer staring at a blank screen than doing this. Especially first thing in the morning. He moved Bianca’s hand off his chest and crossed his arms, earning himself a scowl in return.

“Let’s get started on the profile you’re going to agree to.”

This woman. She never stopped. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on. We both know you’re going to, so let’s skip all your adorable lip biting and huffing about being a simple guy who just wants a simple life. I mean, unless you want help with the lip biting …” She tossed Nate what he assumed was meant to be a flirty wink, but it just made his stomach clench.

Voices carried down the hallway, and Nate said a silent prayer of gratitude until he saw who walked into the room. Ryan Dixon followed Charlie and Sera, his steps still full of the conceited swagger he’d perfected as a teenager. And while Nate understood why Charlie had included him in the bridal party—Sera had fourteen bridesmaids after all—he didn’t get how Charlie couldn’t see through all Ryan’s bullshit.

Case in point: the way Ryan said “howdy” to Bianca’s breasts. Or how he waffled on about also being a ‘seasoned traveller’ but really he’d only been as far as the Gold Coast. For schoolies. Over ten years ago.

“Nathan.”

Nate jerked his chin in greeting, determined not to take the bait. Guys like Ryan were always looking for a reaction, and calling him something that wasn’t Nate’s name was one of Ryan’s juvenile go-to moves.

More groomsmen and bridesmaids filtered into the studio, the noise level rising. A headache threatened. Whoever gave Sera the idea that the whole bridal party should perform a choreographed dance at the reception was officially on Nate’s shit list.

“Sorry, sorry.” Eloise fell into the room, her backpack slipping down one arm and a pair of pale pink heels in the other. Her hair was falling out of its braid, a rosy blush on both her cheeks. “I forgot my dress for the bridal dinner tonight, so I had to double back to the house. I’m getting ready at Alice’s place, which”—she paused, clearly realising everyone was staring at her—“you didn’t all need to know. Sorry!”

“Right, let’s get everyone partnered up,” the instructor said and started running through the list of couples. Bianca hooked her arm through Nate’s when their names were announced together.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Bianca said.

* * *

Spoiler alert:it wasn’t fun. The studio already bore the signs of the carnage that came from trying to get thirty people to learn a complicated routine. Three couples had already given up and Charlie and Sera were looking stressed, frozen smiles on their faces as they watched from the front of the room with the instructor.

“Concentrate,” Bianca hissed. “Listen to the beat.”

“I am,” Nate pushed out through gritted teeth. This had been the longest thirty minutes of his life. He readjusted his hand on Bianca’s back and did his best to keep up with the one-two-three the instructor was calling out. The pounding in his head worsened.

“Okay. My turn to lead,” Bianca said when Nate turned them the wrong way.

“Have at it,” he said. Hell, if letting Bianca drag him all over the dance floor would make time go faster, he was all for it. Somehow—he didn’t know or care how—she managed to make it look like they were kind of doing the right thing, spinning him to the left so they were next to Eloise and Ryan.

Of course, she’d been partnered up with him.

Nate bit the inside of his cheek as Ryan pulled her closer, his face practically buried in her neck and said loudly—most likely for Nate’s benefit, not hers, because Ryan had always been that kind of guy—“You can boss me around anytime, baby.”

A streak of possessiveness made Nate’s vision blurry, and he tore his gaze away from them before he did something he regretted.

“Jesus Christ,” Bianca muttered when he stepped on her toes again.

Nate dropped his arms and stepped away from her. Knowing he’d be attempting this in front of hundreds of people made him want to hurl. “Sorry.”

“Let’s take five,” the instructor called, pausing the music.

Nate breathed a sigh of relief and made his way over to where he’d left his drink bottle. Charlie was standing next to the small table.

“This wasn’t my idea,” was the first thing his best friend said. “I’ve been trying to convince Sera we should can it, but she’s obsessed with Bridgerton.”

Nate screwed the lid of his bottle shut and was just about to reply when Ryan slapped him on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about this fucker. He’s only used to holding a football. Doesn’t know what to do with all those curves and soft skin.” Ryan lifted his left hand and exaggeratedly bit his knuckle when Bianca looked their way. “You call dibs or what? Because dibs. Dibs. Dibs. Diiiibs. Daddy likes it rough, and I bet she does too.”

Right there was why Nate had never liked Ryan. Not because of his penchant for popped collars and those stupid sneakers he insisted on calling loafers because he thought it sounded fancy. The way he spoke about women made Nate’s skin crawl.

“What?” Ryan smirked at Nate, his stupid white teeth gleaming under the lights. “Just making sure I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes, unlike you. Although”—he slid his smarmy gaze towards Eloise—“has your sister always been so hot, C-Dawg?”

Charlie snorted. “You’ve got no chance, mate. She’s too good for you. And even if she did decide to give one of my idiot mates the time of day, I’d make sure they knew there’d be hell to pay if she got hurt.” Charlie’s warning was for Ryan, but it just reinforced what Nate already knew: there could never be anything between him and Eloise. Nate swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and counted to five.

“Places, places,” the instructor called, and Nate shuffled over to his spot next to Bianca.

“Don’t worry, Mustang,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Just Nate. Not Mustang,” he replied.

The sooner this was over, the better.