Chapter Fourteen

“My mother’s never taken me out for ice cream,” Marcy said, her frozen tongue slurring her words together.

“Mine either,” Sera said.

“Can I call you mum?”

“Not if you expect me to answer.”

Drunk on sugar, Sera slowly licked the melting baci-flavoured gelato off her parfait spoon. Neck deep in homeless, post-heartbreak, might-have-a-new-mummy-soon blues, the window seat of the Ramsay Street Gelataria had seemed as good a place as any for Saturday breakfast.

“So what are you going to do now?” Marcy asked.

Sera knew what she meant. The past few days she’d worked like a demon, finishing the Cinderella Project’s basic website, creating templates for social media profiles and advertising cards and a newsletter. She’d made a list of copywriters who had more brain cells than a goldfish as well as PR firms and media contacts.

Since their mortifying conversation the other day, Hazel has been so busy corralling the labourers who were putting the last minute touches in place, they’d barely said more than good morning. In case Hazel decided that their open-ended contact was no longer open, Sera wanted to make sure she didn’t leave anything left undone.

“Onto the next grand adventure I guess.”

“If Hazel doesn’t ask you to stay on, I’ll resign out of protest.”

“Don’t you dare!”

Marcy blinked over her gelato and said, “Nah. That place is crazy fun. And after the grand opening, it’s only going to be more so.”

Sera shook her head. “For all her apparent haphazardness, that woman is amazing. She decided what, two days ago that the grand opening would be this weekend?”

“I like a woman who has that many hot builders at her beck and call and knows what to do with them. And speaking of hot builders, Murdoch stopped by after you left last night, did you know that?”

Sera dug her spoon into her parfait and shoved it into her mouth. “Hmm scrumm nuuup.”

“He asked after you.”

Of course he did. He was a good guy. A great guy. The best guy. Tied. But he had too many demons of his own keeping him from being able to give her what she needed.

“Did you want to write a note I can pass back to him?” Marcy asked.

Sera’s phone rang, saving her from having to roll her eyes.

Her finger hovered over the button when she saw it was Vinnie’s Vintage. She’d called in a favour and had the Road Runner towed there a couple of days back, with the proviso she’d work on it with the guys when she got the chance. Not knowing how long her dad’s workshop would be available that had seemed for the best.

Shaking off the added level of gloom that thought brought on, she pressed her phone to her ear. “Vinnie?”

“Serafina, hey. Look, I know he’s in for a fix up, but it you’re looking to sell the Road Runner I might know someone who’s keen to buy.”

Sera shook her head. Her father had flat out refused to let her sell the car to help put any money towards a new apartment. “Thanks, Vinnie, but I’m not.”

“I could get you a good price.”

“I don’t doubt it. But, no thanks.”

“Okay then. We’ll see you soon, okay.”

“Count on it.”

Sera swiped the screen to black.

“Everything alright?” Marcy asked.

“An unexpected offer from Vinnie.”

“Wow, you have men dangling all over town.”

“Not that kind of offer. And I have no men dangling.”

“Seriously? Not even the Grand Canyon?”

Sera shook her head. Had another spoonful.

“How could you let that slip through your fingers?” Marcy smacked her on the arm.

“I can’t talk about this stuff with you. You’re seventeen.”

Marcy rolled her eyes. “I’ve had more boyfriends than you have.”

“Touché.”

“Is it the deep and silent thing? Because he’s a man, dummy. They’re born knowing how to be all tight-lipped about the emotional stuff. Look at your dad? How often does he tell you about the hard shit in his life?”

Never. Hence the reason this whole escapade began.

“As for Murdoch, I saw him hit his thumb with a hammer once and apart from glaring at the tool as if he might smite it with his eyes, the guy didn’t even flinch. And yet, if any of my mum’s boyfriends ever looked at her the way he looks at you, then I’d have to start calling the guy Daddy.”

Sera knew exactly what Marcy meant. Those eyes. But she couldn’t bet her future on a look.

“It’s just...” How to put this in PG13 terms? “I think he’s convinced himself he’s not allowed to be happy.”

“Only one way to convince him that he is.” Marcy licked her gelato as if she hadn’t said something truly profound.

Only way to convince someone they are lovable is to love them.

Sera was living proof. Her dad had done that every day so her mother’s abandonment didn’t define her. It worked. And yet there were scars that all the love in the world couldn’t quite heal. Scars that had made her terrified to let any of that precious love transfer to someone else.

So, she’d blamed Murdoch for not being able to commit fast enough, when she was infamous for cooling things when they started getting real. With every other man she’d dated, it had been for the absolute best, because she’d never have ended up with them.

Her heart had been patient. It had put in the time, waiting for the one. The one who inspired her, and challenged her, and made her hormones go crazy wild.

It waited for Murdoch.

And she’d dropping her love on him like a bomb. Knowing it would shock. And then doing nothing to back it up. Nothing to make him trust she loved him and always would. When loving him – really loving a man like Murdoch – meant giving him the time he’d asked for, the time he needed to catch up.

Of course, she could wait. She’d waited this long, after all.

Sera breathed out hard. The buzz levitating her off the seat had little to do with the sugar in her system. “How did you get so smart?”

“Had a good tutor.”

While Marcy turned to chat to a pair of teenaged boys who’d taken the table next to them, Sera nabbed one last spoon of gelato – it was really that good – before pushing back her stool.

“You off?” Marcy asked. “Where to?”

“I have to see a man about a car.”

Two hours later, Sera handed her father an envelope before settling back on a stool in the shed; a stool she’d first sat on when her legs hadn’t been long enough for her feet to touch the ground.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Open it.”

He did. When he frowned at the voucher like it was written in Swahili, she moved in beside him, pointing out the picture of the countrified bed and breakfast on the front. “It’s a mini-break weekend. For you and...a friend.”

“A friend?”

Sera waited for him to catch on. When he did, his eyes lit up like it was Christmas.

“You better not have used your hard-earned money...”

“I sold the Road Runner. And since we are such a crack team, for a good deal more than you paid for it.”

Alf frowned. “I told you I didn’t want you selling the car for me—”

“It’s not for you, as requested. I have other plans. Plans for my future.” Sera breathed through the clutch in her chest. “Take the holiday. It’s your turn, Papa.”

“Turn for what?”

“Whatever comes your way.”

Alf pocketed the envelope, squeezed her hard enough she didn’t even try to breathe, then excused himself to make a phone call.

While Sera checked her watch.

It was a little over twenty-four hours until the grand opening of the Cinderella Project. And while she wasn’t all that good at waiting, now seemed like as good a time as any to get some practice.

Sera stood by her dad’s borrowed truck, her new shoes sinking into a carpet of pretty purple flowers, as she stared at the big doll’s house on the other side of the road.

Where the Murdoch Construction Group Ute had lived for the past few weeks the curb side was lined with expensive new sedans and flashy sports cars. But she had no doubt Murdoch would be there. For all the ways Hazel drove him crazy, he’d never miss a moment like this.

She put her hand to her belly to find it calm. Her heart beat evenly. Even her bones were quiet. As if nothing was set in stone. As if whatever happened next wasn’t in the stars; it was all up to her.

She took a breath, waited for a break in the early evening traffic, and crossed the street to find hundreds of people milling about in the front yard of the Cinderella Project headquarters. More people than Sera even knew.

The path was bordered by potted topiaries shaped into roly-poly cupids and blooming yellow roses spilled over the terrace. On the lawn waiters in blonde, curly wigs and angel wings passed around trays of bubbly. Lily-white tables were covered in bowls filled with silver-wrapped chocolate stars. A kissing booth had been set up in one corner with a semi-famous soap-opera star getting a buck for every kiss on the cheek and the line-up was mind-boggling.

There was no way this was achieved by human endeavour in the past two days – somebody must have waved a magic wand.

While she had yet to spy Murdoch’s dark hair over the top of the crowd, Sera caught sight of a few familiar faces.

Phil and Cyrus bickered while Phil’s significant other watched on in bemusement.

Hazel’s husband, Frank, regaled a small crowd with stories of a matchmaking success Hazel had performed on a cruise they’d taken a few months back.

Marcy looked over, her eyes widening at Sera’s get up as she gave her a big thumbs up.

Sera curtsied. She’d felt like a million bucks when she’d left the house in her new clothes – a flowy white top, skinny silver jeans, and the most amazing vintage shoes – now she felt like a walking light bulb.

Still, one way to show Hazel she was serious was to arrive at the party as a walking brand advertisement. The other was folded over in the glittery, vintage, lamé clutch she held in her dampening palm.

As if she’d heard her name being thought, Hazel appeared in a gap in the crowd. “Darling!”

Hazel took her by the shoulders and kissed her soundly on the cheek, then she tucked a hand into the crook of Sera’s elbow and held on tight. To say her welcome was a relief was an understatement.

“The place looks incredible.”

“Doesn’t it? I told you our boy was a wunderkind.”

Sera looked Hazel in the eye and said, “He is that.”

Only way to convince someone they are lovable is to love them. Having others who loved him on board with her plan had to help.

Hazel patted her arm.

“Hazel, do you have a minute to talk.”

“Of course, darling!” she said, while a party in her honour raged around her.

Here goes. Sera took a breath and said, “I want in.”

Hazel looked around. “In you are.”

“No, I mean in the business.” Sera fumbled with her clutch, nerves skyrocketing. Then she took out a bank cheque for more money than she’d ever even earned in a year and handed it over.

“What’s this?” Hazel asked.

“I hope you’ll accept it as a down payment. I want the chance to buy into the business. I believe in what you want to achieve and I want to help you make it happen.”

Hazel stood perfectly still. When she blinked her eyes had taken on a new sheen.

“If it’s not enough—”

“Darling,” Hazel said, eyes shining, “it’s too much. You’re too much.” Then her eyes roved over Sera’s getup, lingering a moment on her silver, calf-high, vintage Doc Martens. Shoes Sera was certain even Cinderella would have envied. With a smile, Hazel added, “In fact you’re perfect.”

“Not even close. What you said the other day... You were right, my heart needed messing up. Dad’s, too. If you could see the fun he’s having... I’ve never seen him so spry.”

Hazel squeezed Sera’s arm. “Between you and me Carolina is exactly the same.”

Sera breathed in and out hard. “I love this place, Hazel. I want to be a part of it. For the long haul. So what do you think?”

Hazel pocketed the cheque. “You would need shares. Voting rights. My husband’s business guru, Finn, will put something together for you to take to your people.”

Sera’s people? The flotsam and jetsam floating in and out of this place had become her people.

“We will make a hell of a team, Ms. Scott. With me the face, Marcy the spirit, and you the heart.”

Sera followed her instinct and hugged Hazel, holding on a little longer when Hazel hugged her back. Because she’d learned a few things out of this whole crazy endeavour.

a) there no point having a gift if she didn’t believe in it

b) change wouldn’t kill her, in fact there was a chance it might even be a good thing

c) it was time to grow up and decide what kind of woman she wanted to be

“Alright, darling. That’s enough,” Hazel said, pulling back and fussing with her outrageously sparkly earrings. “Go mingle. Talk us up.” Then she paused. “Actually, would you mind checking that your office is spic and span in case any guests wander in there accidentally.”

Now that part one of her mission was done, Sera really wanted to get to part two; find Murdoch and convince Murdoch she loved him, that he deserved it, and that she was willing to wait as long as it took for him to catch up.

But she was a part business owner now and she’d better act like it.

Thankful she didn’t wear heels, she slipped quickly through the crowd.

Inside the house it was far quieter, the austere beauty that had been hidden beneath the crumbling walls brought to bear with skill, finesse, and respect.

A gilt framed poster adorned the entrance. It showed a picture of a stylised shoe that she’d asked one of her favourite design students to mock-up and it read The Cinderella Project: Modern matchmaking...old-school style.

She’d done that. And she had a lot more work to do.

But first...

She veered right, then took a left. Her footsteps hastened until she came up short when she found herself facing an actual door.

She looked around to be sure she was in the right spot. Then she opened the door slowly to find it wasn’t the only thing that had changed.

The room was still blindingly white, but her little corner of it was altered.

The throne was gone; replaced with an actual office chair. Leather, black, gorgeous. She moved behind her desk and sat, sinking into the soft seat, bouncing up and down on beautiful squishy springs.

She spun the seat to take in the sleek, black corner unit jutting out from the wall.

Tentatively – as if it might disappear if she touched it – she opened a cupboard door. Inside was a shelf for her bag. Another for a funky, black kettle sat beside a fancy black coffee machine as well as canisters containing all the necessary powders. The other cupboard was actually a small black fridge already stocked with milk.

Sera’s heart beat in her throat. Her skin prickled all over. And her heretofore quiet bones began to make a racket the likes of which she’d never felt.

Hazel could have made all this happen. Perhaps it had always been on the cards.

Yet she hadn’t mentioned to Hazel that after a few hours in the throne her tailbone felt like it was about to snap in two, or the weirdness of having no doors. And Hazel would never have accessorised that room in black.

There was one person who could have made all this happen in the hours since she’d left.

Rather than licking his wounds in his cave after she’d sent him packing, Murdoch had spent his Friday night and probably most of the next two days creating something wonderful, for her.

Trying not to get ahead of herself – there was the Grand Canyon to consider – she nibbled her lip. Was this his version of closure? A good man’s goodbye?

Then she noticed a small shelf running along the top of the others. She bent over, looked inside and saw a pretty floral tea cup and a black Murdoch Construction Group mug.

It wasn’t a brush off.

Murdoch was finally wooing her.

She practically leapt out of the chair, spun in a full circle and tried to collect her thoughts.

No more wasting time. She had to find him. If it meant grabbing a chair and lugging it to the middle of the party so she could stand on the thing and yell out his name, then so be it.

And no matter what happened next, she wouldn’t walk away.

She’d do the absolute opposite.

She was going all in.

Murdoch sat on the steps at the edge of the back terrace, tossing a mangy ball into the dusk-lit gardens for Dozer to find, the sounds of the party out front white noise in the back of his head.

He’d been here for an hour, coasting through the crowd, gritting his way through conversations about paint colours and something called Tinder all in the hopes of finding her.

So far no luck. Maybe she wasn’t coming. Probably because she didn’t want to see him.

Well that was just tough.

He pulled himself to standing. He’d do another lap and if he didn’t find her he was going to track her down if he had to scour the streets of Sydney to do so.

He’d put in enough time and couldn’t wait another minute. He wanted to hear her say she loved him again. And this time he’d tell her—

His phone buzzed with “God Save the Queen”. Two words popped up onto the screen:

Murdoch put his phone away and wiped his hands down the sides of his pants.

Then, a second before he heard the scrape of shoe on wood, he felt her. In the lift of every hair on his body, in his heart, in his very bones.

He turned.

Sera stood framed in the shadowy doorway. Light spilled over her from behind, creating golden glints in her silken hair. She looked...luminous. Like she was made of pure light.

But as twilight fell he couldn’t see her expression, couldn’t tell if now that she’d found him she might turn and run.

“Hey,” he said.

Her chin lifted in acknowledgement. “That’s some kind of party out there.”

“Why do you think I’m hiding back here?”

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, taking a miniscule step forward. Getting used to the light he saw hesitation behind her eyes.

Because of how they’d left things. Because of the long, yawning hours since they’d seen one another. Because she had no clue that he was only there for her.

“Of course,” he said, his voice cracking with the tension coursing through him. He couldn’t blow it this time. He wouldn’t.

Then she took a step onto the terrace and he saw what she held in her hands – a floral tea cup and a black mug.

Then Dozer came from nowhere, tennis ball lost in the burgeoning darkness, tongue lolling out of his happy mouth. He saw Sera, and – exploding with joy – he leapt, slamming her in the backside. She tottered, drinks sloshing, but she held her ground. Only the backside of her shiny pants now sported two muddy footprints.

“Dozer,” he growled, and the dog bolted away.

Sera laughed. “It’s fine. I don’t know what I was thinking with this outfit. I was trying for serious brand manager and instead feel like a space pirate.”

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“So do you,” she said, her eyes landing on his white button down, suit pants, clean shoes. Then she bit her lip as if she hadn’t meant for the words to fall out.

Murdoch took a step her way. Then another. He pointed to her...marks. “You’re muddy.”

She twisted from the waist trying to see, trying not to spill the drinks at the same time.

He held out his hands to help. Stopped himself. Then... “Screw it,” he rumbled, holding her by the upper arm with one hand, brushing his palms over her bottom with the other.

The fabric was slippery, the mud brushed away all too quick. Still, he felt heat slide through his entire body and land in his cheeks.

Done, he looked up to find her smiling at him.

“Are you blushing?” she asked.

“Hell, no.”

“You are!” She leant in closer, eyes roving over his cheeks, his jaw, his blistering hot neck. When her gaze once again found his eyes, he saw the moment she realised how close they stood.

Close enough he saw her swallow. Close enough to note the new dark patches below her fantastical eyes. Close enough the urge to slide his hand into her soft hair and kiss her forever was all he could think about.

“Here,” she said, her voice rough. “I made this for you. Seems I have a new kettle and coffee machine. Thought you might care to help me christen them.”

She held out his mug. He took it. They sipped, eyes still locked onto one another.

His drink was lukewarm. A little weak for his taste. And he loved it.

Because he loved her.

The surety of it rushed through him like a burst dam.

“Murdoch,” she said, at the same time he said, “Sera.”

Their laughter carried on the quiet evening air. While tension and heat whipped about them like an electric storm.

“Me first,” she said.

And while Murdoch wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees before her she looked so earnest. So he let her go first, even though he had no idea what she might say.

Hardest thing he ever did in his life.

“First, thank-you for my office. It’s perfect. And permanent, since I’m going into business with Hazel.” She looked bemused, then excited, then terrified. “Crazy, right? But good. Anyway, it is beautiful. And thoughtful. Especially on the back of everything I said to you the other day—”

“Stop.”

She shook her head. “No. I was angry. And confused. And hurt. But mostly I was scared. Scared at the decisions I’ve been forced to make of late. But mostly scared of my feelings for you.”

He would have breathed but his lungs had given up the ghost.

“I accused you of not having the capacity to feel the way I did.”

Did. She said did.

“But the truth is, I was the one who couldn’t handle what was happening between us. How you made me feel. It was all me. So I came here today in the hopes that maybe...”

She shrugged and her tea sloshed over the side of her cup. She lifted her thumb to her mouth, sucking away the liquid. And Murdoch prayed for forbearance.

She looked around for somewhere to put her tea, then found it on the old concrete balustrade. She placed the cup down on a spot not covered in ivy. Murdoch followed, did the same.

When she turned to him, she was wringing her hands, her eyes huge, her body trembling. “Murdoch, I have to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Are you romancing me with hard furnishings?”

He moved in closer. The pulse fluttering at her throat was too much for him. He could barely hear past the blood rushing behind his ears. Think beyond the urge to hold her.

“Murdoch,” she said, her voice wavering, “you got me a chair.”

“You needed one.”

“You put in doors.”

“Past time.”

“You made me a cupboard, too.”

“Always a part of the plan.”

“I don’t believe you. Because that mug and tea cup – from a man like you, I’d call that hard-core courtship.”

He shot her a look. She took it. Held it. Her feelings for him evident in every glint in her eyes, every breath she took, every angle of her sweet body.

“Did it work?” he asked.

She coughed out a laugh. Then another.

Knowing he’d always been better at doing than saying, he moved one final step, took her by the chin and tilted her face towards his.

She blinked at him, her eyes darkening, her body swaying into him.

“Did it work?” he asked again.

She breathed out a sigh, gave an infinitesimal nod, and that was all he needed.

He kissed her. Gently. Then less gently. Tugging his mouth across hers till she lifted to her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his.

To think there’d been a chance he’d never have been able to do this again. He deepened the kiss, needing to show her how much it meant. How much she meant. And they sank into one another so he could feel her heart beating up against his.

By the time they pulled apart, night had descended around them.

Breathing hard and fast, Sera leant her forehead against his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt. “I’m sorry I told you I couldn’t do this anymore. The honest truth is I want this, I want you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

He wrapped his arms about her, holding her as close as he could. The lights of suburbia twinkling over the backyard trees. The sounds of the party splintering the silence.

“You were within your rights to believe I wasn’t in this, Sera. I spent so much time and energy holding you at bay, all in the name of trying to do the right thing. Promising to keep any relationship I had out of Hazel’s sight had been easy, because I never thought I’d meet anyone important enough to want to break it. Yet from the moment you looked up at me from your hands and knees, all sultry eyes and messy hair and hiccups, I was toast.”

“I like toast.”

“Of course, you do. Can I finish my story?”

“Please,” she said, tucking a finger between his buttons, scraping her nail over his skin.

He took her hands in both of his, holding them tight so they could stop distracting him.

Understanding what people meant when they talked about feeling their hearts in their throats, Murdoch said, “The reason I wanted to get this place finished so fast was so that I could ask you out. Properly. Without any impediments. Because I love you, Serafina Scott. Have done from that first moment, even if I didn’t know it yet. Even while I fought it with everything I had. And I hope you understand how much it hurts to know I let you down the other day. I’m a guy who sometimes needs a little time. But once I’m done, once I’m there, I’m all in.”

A tear slid down her cheek, then another.

“You’re crying,” he said, manly panic building in his chest.

“They’re happy tears. Because I love you, too. So much. I know I’m a bull at a gate. And I get that you need time. If either of us forget that we can just do more of this. Talking. Kissing. Making up.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Her next breath in was shallow, her next breath out...a hiccup. She slapped a hand over her mouth, her spectacular eyes damp and beseeching.

“Sera.”

Hiccup. She shook her head. Waved at him to ignore it and go on.

Instead he took her hand from her mouth, tucked it behind her back, and kissed her. Hard, fierce, pouring his feelings into her. The hiccups stopped instantly.

“Did you fake hiccups to get a kiss?” he asked against her lips.

She shook her head, her lips sliding tantalisingly over his own. “Though I’m stashing that brilliant idea away for another time.”

A scrabble of claws on wood heralded Dozer’s return. This time with the sloppy tennis ball in his mouth. He jumped up to give the ball to Sera. Seeing the slobber she twisted out of the way.

Dozer saw his chance and slid between her legs and this time there was no way she could keep her balance.

Her eyes grew wide as gravity took over and she wobbled, fell, and landed on her backside with a thud. “Ow. Ow, ow, ow!”

Murdoch was down on one knee in a heartbeat, running his hands over her shoulders, down her legs. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere. So keep doing that. All the touching, it helps.”

He lifted his hands away, leant his arm over his thigh. “Ready to get up, funny girl?”

She nodded.

Murdoch took her by both hands and carefully eased her to her feet. Using the rough pad of a thumb, Murdoch swiped a stray tear away. “No more tears. Even happy ones.”

“Stuff that,” she said. “My ass hurts like crazy.”

Murdoch didn’t hesitate; he slid an arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms.

She got such a shock she cried out. Then – a thinker, his girl – she wrapped her arms about his neck and hung on tight.

“You realise you don’t need to throw yourself at my feet anymore,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

“I’ll stop when you stop making it so worth it.” She wriggled then grimaced. “Ouch. You’re right. I’m done. This hurts way too much.”

“Ice,” he called. “My woman needs ice.”

“Is there any in my new fridge?” she asked, nuzzling into his neck. “I was too dazzled by the other stuff to notice.”

“No ice there,” he said, “but I know where there is plenty.”

He whistled, Dozer barked and followed him inside, through the maze, past her office all closed up tight, and to the foyer where through the open front doors the party was in full swing.

Then Guy appeared from around the corner, checking his phone. His long strides came to a halt as he came upon Murdoch, still carrying Sera in his arms. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

“Hey, Guy,” Sera said, glancing up at Murdoch as if for confirmation. Then with a determined look she gave him an out. In case he needed time. “I fell. Landed on my backside. Murdoch’s helping me get ice.”

“Need any help administering it?” Guy asked, lounging against a wall.

Murdoch’s growl had him standing but up quick smart.

Then Marcy came jogging inside, stopping when she spotted Guy as if she’d been keeping tabs. When she spied Murdoch and Sera, her eyes widened to the size of golf balls.

“You okay?” Marcy asked. “Is this okay with you? I’ll kick him in the kneecap if you need me to.”

Sera laughed.

“Leave my kneecaps out of this,” Murdoch rumbled.

Marcy crossed her arms. “She’s my soul sister. It’s my duty to help out if some great galumph is manhandling her.”

Sera brought a hand to her heart. “Awww.”

“Seventeen, you say?” Guy asked, looking at Marcy as if she was a sleeping snake.

“Seventeen,” Sera shot back.

Then Pumpkin launched himself through the front doors, saw Dozer, and took a flying leap. Dozer rolled over and showed his belly. Pumpkin, not knowing what to do with such easy submission, took a seat and began to lick himself.

And then came Hazel.

She barrelled inside and came to a screeching halt at the strange tableau.

Guy back on his phone, Marcy with her arms crossed shooting eye-daggers at Murdoch, Dozer on his back, Pumpkin licking himself. And Sera in Murdoch’s arms.

Her gaze stuck on Murdoch. Blazing hot, triumphant. And then from one breath to the next she schooled her face into a semblance of absolute disinterest. “Any reason you’re all in here when there is a fabulous party outside?”

“I fell,” Sera said, trying to wriggle out of Murdoch’s grasp. “Because Dozer... Um... Anyway, Murdoch was –”

Enough, Murdoch thought. And took the chance to get this bit out of the way in one fell swoop.

He lifted Sera higher in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. After a slight mewl of surprise, she smiled against his mouth. He kissed her deeper till she snuggled in tighter and kissed him right on back.

Soon he was lost.

No, not lost. Free.

He’d been convinced that in Sera’s arms he lost himself. That he’d used her for those moments of quiet and peace and bliss. When the truth was, that it was through her that he’d finally found himself.

He’d rediscovered in her the youth he’d given up. The joy he’d denied. The passions he’d buried. She’d unlocked him, one piece at a time. Only this time, when he came back together, he no longer felt brittle. He felt whole.

She pulled away, looking thoroughly ravaged from one PG-rated kiss. This was going to be a hell of a ride.

She whispered, “No turning back now.”

“Deal.”

Then, loud enough for the gathered crowd to hear every word, he said, “I love her. She loves me. We love one another.”

And that was that.

It was too quiet in the silence that followed. Eerily quiet. As if the slightest breath might turn the house to rubble. Murdoch’s whole body felt hot and throbbing with discomfort as he waited for the fall out.

Then Phil and Cyrus moseyed past, carrying a hot pink couch.

“Hey, Sera,” said Phil. “Boss.”

“Hey, boys,” said Sera.

Spell broken, Hazel puffed out her chest and turned to address the crowd. “Okay, you lot. Stop gawking. This day isn’t about them, it’s about me. Get back to the party.”

Hazel gave each and every person a little shove, even clicking her fingers at the dogs who took off towards the back door and the trillion scents of a night garden.

Guy went outside in search of a better signal.

Marcy gave Sera a quick fist bump before following on his heels.

Leaving Hazel behind.

Sera tapped Murdoch on the shoulder, and he let her slide to the ground. Her hands wrapped around one of his. Not letting him go.

“Hazel,” Murdoch said.

But she stayed him with an upheld hand.

“My turn to talk. This...” Hazel waggled a finger between them. “Is the cherry on the cake of what has been one of the best years of my life. And that’s saying something.”

“Carly—” Murdoch said, and it the first time he’d uttered her name in front of Hazel in five years.

Hazel’s mouth quirked into a smile even as her eyes took on a telltale sheen.

“For all that happened during and after, she saved me, Hazel.”

Hazel’s eyes misted over completely. Then she took his cheeks in both hands, looked him in the eye with more tenderness than he knew what to do with. “You, dear boy, saved us all.”

He nodded. Believing. Finding that once he started it was easy to go on the same way.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Hazel added, any evidence of tears having evaporated completely.

“For what, exactly?” he asked.

“The Cinderella Project strikes again. I’m thinking a magazine spread. You two laid out in front of an open fire, looking trés romantique.”

“You are coming nowhere near us with a camera of any sort.” Murdoch all but dragged Sera out into the party.

“You are my new poster children,” Hazel called out behind them. “A walking, talking advertisement for all that I can offer.”

Fast lost within the tightly packed crowd, Murdoch made a beeline for a bucket of ice in which a few bottles of champagne were wedged. He dislodged the contents, grabbed a tea towel from a passing waiter and tipped until the bucket emptied. Wrapping the ice up tight he pressed the package to Sera’s backside making her shriek at the cold.

“Stop complaining. It’ll help.”

“It’s more fun when your kisses help. In fact...” She turned aimed her backside his way as if waiting for a kiss.

Feeling like he was full of light and fire and freedom, he picked her up, swung her over his shoulder and kissed her better.

The crowd around them cheered, all het up on champagne and chocolate and crazy shaped trees and love hearts as far as the eye could see. Far as Murdoch was concerned, they could keep all that guff. All he needed was the woman in his arms.

Now he had her, he was going to keep her.

He caught sight of Guy as he headed towards the front gate. “Favour?”

Guy grinned at Sera’s shiny, silver backside. “Sure, mate.”

“Save Dozer from the yapper, take him home?”

Guy put his phone away and patted Murdoch on the free shoulder. “God, yes. If it means I can leave this crazy mob, I’ll do anything.”

Murdoch strode away with Sera wriggling and giggling and apologising to anyone she kicked on the way through the crowd. Finally giving up, she relaxed over his shoulder.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Sweetheart,” he said, “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

He plopped her back down once he reached his weekend car, a latest model Mustang that got him a downturned mouth with a nod.

She looked through the back window and said, “Roomy.”

Then she turned and leant against the car, wincing a tad when her bruised backside met metal. She slid a hand between a couple of Murdoch’s shirt buttons and tugged. His hands landing on the roof either side of her head.

“Did you realise you kissed me in front of Hazel and everyone.”

“I did.”

“My favourite part? Your ‘I love her. She loves me. We love one another.’ I like you using your words,” she said, “I could get used to it.”

“Yeah?” he said.

She grinned. “So maybe words aren’t that important. Not when you look like you look, and smell like you smell. As for those big, work-roughened hands of yours...”

She took them and leaned up into him. Then she let go to run her hands over his shoulders and down his back before they settled on his backside.

“Who needs words when you have a history of knowing things, like I do.”

“Knowing things?” he asked. “What do you know?”

Her mouth dropped into an ‘o’, her eyes making much the same shape. Then she glanced away and ran a hand up the back of her neck.

“That’s right,” she said, “I haven’t told you... No matter. It’ll be easier if you trust me in all things from now on. Okay?”

He took her chin in hand until she was looking him in the eye. His whole future looked back at him – a little crazy and a whole lot wonderful.

“All things?” he asked.

“Give it time,” she said, grinning at him as she lifting onto her toes for a kiss. “You’ll come ‘round.”

The End