“But she’ll be fine,” Lacey interjects, giving me a look I can’t read. “She’s always fine.”
I want to ask her what the hell she means by that, but my father says, “Of course she’ll be fine. She’s my daughter.”
Lacey rolls her eyes.
“So how long are you in the country for?” Jana asks. “Got any fun plans?”
“Aside from this?” I ask cheerily. They probably don’t pick up on sarcasm very well. “No plans. Just here for the wedding. Going back home in a week.”
But what are you going home to?
“That’s a shame,” Eaton says. “New Zealand has so much to offer.”
“You should do what your sister is doing and charter a boat,” Jana says.
I frown. This is the first I’m hearing of this.
I look at Lacey and Richard. “You’re chartering a boat?”
“For our honeymoon,” Richard says. He jerks his chin to Tai playing rugby in the background. “Tai gave us a fantastic deal.”
I have so many questions. “What happened to Fiji?”
“We’re sailing to Fiji,” Lacey says, annoyed. “Don’t you read any of my emails?”
“And don’t worry, I’m an excellent sailor,” Richard says, as if I was worried. “Tai has taught me a lot over the years. It’s been a pleasure to be in the student role instead of the teacher. Besides, the yacht is practically push button. Top of the line.”
“How long is that trip?” I ask.
“About ten days, sometimes more,” he says. He looks to my father. “I invited your parents along with us, but I think your father has cold feet.”
It’s my father’s turn to look annoyed. “It’s not cold feet, little Dicky. It’s called work.”
“Why on earth would you want them on your honeymoon?” I ask, then give my father an apologetic smile. “No offense, dad.”
He shrugs and sips his wine, a much heartier gulp than the one before.
“Here’s the thing, Daisy,” Richard leans in and says in a conspiratorial tone. “A honeymoon is just a vacation for us. Your sister and I have been having sexual relations for many years already.”
“Ew,” I say, scrunching up my nose.
“It’s not ew,” he says haughtily. “It’s a very natural expression of the human body.”
“And here we thought Lacey would remain a good girl until her wedding,” my father says in such a way that I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
All I know is that I am out of here.
“I’m going to go talk to mom,” I tell them and quickly hurry across the lawn to the BBQ where my mother is standing with a couple her age. Couples, couples, everywhere.
My mother introduces me to Tai’s parents, Sebastian and Keri Wakefield. His father is just as tall and tanned and handsome as his son, his hair grey at the temples with a peppering of a mustache. It’s like looking into Tai’s future, and I like what I see.
His mother is a lot shorter, brown skin, black hair, very pretty in an old-fashioned way, like nobility. The way she carries herself reminds me of a queen. And while his father is more quiet and stoic, a lot like his son, his mother is talkative and warm. I like her immediately.
“So you’re the one that Tai went to pick up,” his mother says to me.
“Guilty as charged,” I tell her.
“I bet he was about as agreeable as a bag of cats,” she says with a cheeky smile.
I can’t help laugh. “That’s a rather fitting analogy. But seriously, I’m so grateful he was able to give me the ride. I’ve been having a bit of bad luck lately, so it helped.”
I don’t mention that the ride itself felt like a continuation of that bad luck, at least it did at the time.
The funny thing is, even though that drive was hell of sorts, I felt way more comfortable with Tai in that truck than I do talking to most of the people here, and that includes my own sister. Tai’s a grump but there’s at least something real about him. He judges me, but he at least tells me he’s judging me.
Don’t get carried away now, I remind myself. He’s a dick and he’ll make this trip miserable if you let him.
Lord knows why there’s a part of me that wants to let him.
Five
Daisy
As far as weddings go, I have to say my sister’s was pretty much perfect.
Granted, we’ve only just made it through the ceremony, but I wasn’t sure what to expect. Weddings are always slightly chaotic, a drunken mix of bad blood and buried feelings, different friends and families mixing together, creating this soup of heightened emotions.
I thought my own emotions were going to run away on me, especially when my father walked Lacey down the sandy aisle, the music swelling to a crescendo.
She looked gorgeous, in a simple white strapless gown, no frills or gimmicks, but her glasses were off and her hair was pulled back into a chignon. She was smiling so broadly at Richard that I really felt the love between them. Obviously they do love each other, but they’re such odd personalities, and Lacey is so rarely affectionate, that seeing them practically gush at each other was affirming.
And then of course there was my father, who looked so proud that my own heart sank a little. As completely and utterly selfish as it sounds, I wanted to be the one that made him look so happy. That look of pride doesn’t come easily from him.
It’s not like I never thought about getting married. As I said, with Chris it did cross my mind a few times. I wasn’t exactly excited about the idea, but I figured if I had to settle down, then I guess it was best I do it with him.
But that’s all over now, so there’s no use entertaining it.
The last few days leading up to the wedding have actually been pretty good, as if making up for the rough start. I spent most of my time on the beach, sipping wine and slathering on SPF 50. Sometimes Lacey would ask me for some wedding advice, usually with regards to aesthetics, which I appreciated, other times I would be just hanging out with my parents and the Wakefields, which was time well spent.
I also met some of Tai’s friends, who were a hell of a lot more down to earth than Lacey and Richard’s friends. Tai has been behaving, too. Maybe a little too well.
In fact, I don’t think I even saw him up close until it was time for us to walk down the aisle together as best man and maid-of-honor. His gaze rested on my breasts for just a moment (it’s a low-cut halter, Lacey said I could choose whatever dress I wanted so as long as it was lilac, and I chose the one that played up my assets), then gave me the kind of smirk I wanted to wipe off his face. I hate guys that smirk. I hate the word smirk.
“Trying to steal the attention from your sister?” he had asked glibly as he took my arm, and before I had a chance to even reply to that, we were going down the aisle.
“Not my fault I like to look my best,” I told him out of the side of my mouth, smiling broadly for all the guests who were craning their necks in their seats, impatiently waiting for the bride. The wedding was set-up on the beach with seashells and vases of ferns lining the aisle, white chairs sinking into the sand.