Archer had proved how much he loved her by his willingness to give up what he treasured most: his freedom.
He wanted to be with her for ever. It was the greatest opportunity of a lifetime.
What was she waiting for?
He enveloped her in his arms and she finally let go, her emotion spilling out in torrents of tears as she drenched his shirt.
‘Kids, marriage, the works, we’ll face it. Together,’ he murmured, smoothing her hair, stroking her back until her sobs subsided.
Stunned that this incredible man was willing to give up so much to be with her, she eased back and gazed into his eyes.
‘I love you. I always have.’
He kissed her, long and slow.
By the time they made it back to the restaurant their Christmas dinner was cold.
‘WE SHOULD HAVE eloped to Hawaii,’ Archer murmured in Callie’s ear after the umpteenth back-slap and congratulatory kiss.
Callie elbowed her new husband. ‘And miss out on sharing another Flett Christmas Eve wedding with our families? No way.’
‘You’re such a romantic sap,’ he said, sliding an arm around her waist and holding her close.
‘So sue me.’ She sighed and snuggled into him. ‘Thank you.’
‘For?’
‘This.’
She waved towards the festivities in full swing on the beach foreshore in front of the Winki Pop Surf School.
Artie, resplendent in tux and Santa hat, was mixing up another batch of his secret sangria.
Izzy, too cute in an eclectic Christmas elf-fairy costume, was racing around Tom in a demented version of Ring-a-Rosie. Travis and Shelly were canoodling, and Archer’s folks were sitting hand in hand alongside Nora, watching the fun with benign smiles.
Even the recalcitrant Bruno had made a rare appearance, resurfacing from the Middle East sans wife, and trying to make it up to Nora and his daughter.
Let him keep trying. Callie wasn’t buying it, even if she’d generously agreed to let him come to the wedding and to Christmas lunch tomorrow.
The wedding ceremony on the beach had been incredible, but it had been earlier, when Archer had carried Nora in his arms and gently deposited her in a front row seat, that Callie had lost it.
He’d wiped away her tears to a chorus of sniffles from their small crowd of guests and she’d managed to hold it together for the vows. Just.
The fact that she’d married her first love, her only love, was so surreal she kept smoothing her strapless calf-length ivory silk wedding dress to ensure it was real.
Lucky for her, Archer rarely released her hand, and his solid presence was all the reassurance she needed.
His gaze followed hers. ‘You sure your mum’s going to be okay while we honeymoon in Capri? Because I’m happy to stay here—’
‘She’ll be fine.’
Callie had had a long talk with her mum when she’d almost lost Archer twelve months ago, resulting in her letting go of her residual fears and starting to live life in the moment.
Sure, watching her mum deteriorate a little every day sliced her in two, but Nora was making the most of the time she had left. The least Callie could do was the same.
It was what Nora had wanted—to see Callie happy—and they’d brought the wedding forward for that very reason.
Not that she or Archer minded. They’d been living together anyway, spending Monday to Friday in Melbourne and the weekends in Torquay.
He didn’t mind the commute, and she didn’t mind a sexy surfer crowding her space. They hadn’t decided on permanent living arrangements yet. Time enough when they returned from Capri.
She couldn’t believe they were returning to the beautiful town where they’d met, where this amazing guy had wooed her with wine and moonlight and sea.
‘What are you thinking?’
She glanced into her husband’s deep blue eyes and smiled. ‘I’m thinking about old memories of Capri.’
‘Well, I’m thinking about creating new ones.’
His exaggerated eyebrow-wiggle made her laugh.
‘You know we’re going to have an amazing life together, right?’ He cradled her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks.
‘You bet.’
For whatever they faced in the future she’d do it with her incredible husband by her side.
Life didn’t get any better than this.
He lowered his head and kissed her, a soft, tender melding of lips that quickly escalated into heat and passion and need.
Maybe it did...
* * * * *
“You’re more attracted to me than you are to Max.” He said the words flatly, yet there was a wealth of challenge in them, and he looked at her as if daring her to deny them.
She opened her mouth, then shut it again. She arched her eyebrows at him provocatively. “You think so?”
“You know you are,” he insisted. “There’s been a spark between us since day one.”
This time she opened her mouth and didn’t shut it, still trying to formulate the words. She gave a careless, dismissive shrug. “In your dreams, Savas.”
But Sebastian didn’t wait. “You want proof?” He closed the space between them so that she had to tip her head up to look at him. His mouth was bare inches away. She could see the whiskered roughness of his jaw, could feel the heat of his breath.
She swallowed. She blinked. She waited.
And the next thing she knew Sebastian’s lips came down on hers.
Award-winning author ANNE MCALLISTER was once given a blueprint for happiness that included a nice, literate husband, a ramshackle Victorian house, a horde of mischievous children, a bunch of big, friendly dogs, and a life spent writing stories about tall, dark and handsome heroes. ‘Where do I sign up?’ she asked, and promptly did. Lots of years later, she’s happy to report the blueprint was a success. She’s always happy to share the latest news with readers at her website, www.annemcallister.com, and welcomes their letters there, or at PO Box 3904, Bozeman, Montana 59772, USA (SASE appreciated).
“I WAS thinking little square boxes with silver and rose jelly beans in them.” Vangie was saying breathlessly into the phone.
Sebastian, who wasn’t listening,