3. Alex Sebring
Chapter 3
Alex Sebring
The sky shifts to shades of lavender and orange, the sun dipping toward the horizon in a slow, deliberate goodbye. Once, moments like this would have slipped past unnoticed, buried under the constant rush of practice schedules, game-day pressures, and the relentless pursuit of perfection. Back then, life was a blur of noise and motion, leaving no space for quiet reflection or something as simple as watching daylight fade into purple and gold. Now, with time stretching wide and unhurried, the stillness feels unfamiliar—like rediscovering a part of myself I didn’t know I’d lost.
I take a slow sip of wine. As expected, it’s excellent—Jack McLachlan’s wine never misses. With vineyards across Australia and New Zealand, the man knows the grape. His bottles are top-tier, the kind that makes you pause and appreciate the moment.
Our dads have been friends for as long as I can remember, so Jack and I have always known each other. We weren’t close growing up—him being ten years older and me just the kid tagging along. But that changed about five years ago. Maybe I’d finally grown up, or maybe Jack started seeing me as more than a kid. Either way, he’s become one of the few people I can always count on.
Jack flips the shanks on the grill, the scent of rosemary and sizzling lamb filling the air. “How’s the shiraz?”
“Excellent as always,” I say before taking another sip.
He nods, satisfied, and turns back to the grill. “Glad you approve.”
This is what life should feel like—good food, great wine, and even better company.
The McLachlan kids are splashing in the nearby pool, their laughter and shouting rising above the soft hum of music. Four of them—healthy and full of life.
The youngest, a five-year-old girl, paddles in the shallow end with floaties on her arms, squealing whenever one of the twins splashes her.
Sitting off to the side with her feet dipping in the water is the oldest—a girl who just turned nine. Her brown hair, the exact shade as Laurelyn’s, clings to her face in damp strands. She hums softly along with the music playing in the background, lost in her own little world, her grin a replica of Jack’s.
The twin boys, identical in every way, wrestle each other on a pool float, their boisterous energy sending waves in every direction.
And then there’s Laurelyn. She’s one of those people who makes you feel at ease the moment you’re around her. And when she sings, it’s something else entirely. Simply special.
Jack has what most people only dream of—a loving wife, great kids, a genuinely happy life, not just a show for others to admire. Watching them, I realize how much I want that too—a family of my own, a place to belong.
Jack once shared the story of how he and Laurelyn met, and it’s stuck with me ever since. Their introduction was far from ordinary—messy, complicated, and nothing like a typical romance. It didn’t follow any of the usual rules, but somehow, it worked. Against all odds, Jack found the person who is perfect for him.
And if that could work for them, then maybe my unconventional route isn’t so crazy after all. If meeting through a matchmaking service can lead me to the kind of connection Jack and Laurelyn have, it’ll all be worth it.
Jack’s phone buzzes on the table between us, pulling me out of my thoughts. He glances down at the screen, raising a brow. “It’s Chloe.”
He wipes his hands on a towel, tossing it over his shoulder with a casual flick. “Sorry, mate. I’ve gotta take this one.”
“All good here,” I give him a nod. “Go on and take the call.”
Chloe and I go way back. She’s closer to my age, and we grew up together. She and Jack have their special sibling bond, but we always got on differently. No sparks, just good mates. Even when I was off playing rugby, we managed to stay in touch.
She’s done a ripper job for herself. A few years back, she opened a restaurant. It took off quick smart, and now it’s one of the top spots in Sydney. She made the leap from chef to restaurant owner look easy.
But that’s the McLachlan family for you. Whatever they touch turns to gold. Jack’s got his vineyards. Chloe’s got her restaurants. Evan started out selling houses, only to build himself a booming property development business. Success is in their blood. If anyone’s got grit, talent, and the drive to come out on top, it’s the McLachlans.
From where I’m sitting, I overhear his side of the call. Jack, usually so calm and easygoing, speaks with a sharp edge that cuts through the evening air.
“Tell that bastard I’m taking my vineyard back,” Jack says, pacing slowly near the grill.
There’s a pause, the faint murmur of Chloe’s voice coming through the receiver. Jack listens, jaw tight. “There’s no way in hell he’s keeping a McLachlan vineyard after what he did to you.”
He keeps talking, his words measured and deliberate, but the simmering anger beneath is impossible to miss. I don’t catch every word, but it’s clear that whatever Ben did has Jack fuming.
The call goes on for a few minutes. When Jack finally hangs up, he tosses his phone on the table. “I guess you know Chloe filed for divorce from Ben.”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Sorry to hear it.”
“I’m sorry for my sister’s pain, but I’m not sorry to see him gone.” Jack’s lips set in a hard line. “I always knew he’d break her heart, but I didn’t think she’d have to waste ten bloody years on him first.”
I don’t know the full story yet, but I’ve heard enough to know Ben did something bad—really bad. Neither Chloe nor Jack have shared the details, but knowing Ben, I can imagine. Whatever it was, Chloe deserves better.
Laurelyn steps onto the porch, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “The poor thing is struggling with the separation. She really loved Ben.”
Jack shakes his head, his frustration evident. “I never liked him. Told her from the start he’d hurt her—it was only a matter of time.”
Laurelyn gives him a look—the kind only a wife can get away with. “Yes, Jack Henry, we all know how you feel about Ben. You’ve been very clear about that from the beginning.”
Jack doesn’t flinch. “And I was right.”
Laurelyn sighs, her face pinching with a mix of sadness and frustration. “Chloe’s strong. She isn’t okay right now, but she will be again one day. She needs time to mourn the loss of what she had with Ben.”
Jack huffs a humorless laugh. “You mean what she thought she had with him. She never had anything real with that prick.”
Laurelyn is right—Chloe will come out of this stronger, but it’s going to take time. It always does.
Jack grabs the bottle of wine from the table and tops off my glass before filling his own. “So, mate, tell us about this Soul Sync thing. How’d the date go?”
“It was peculiar. The service assigns all clients an alias to keep things anonymous.” A smirk pulls at my lips. “I’m Julius Caesar, and my match is Cleopatra.”
Laurelyn arches a brow, amusement dancing in her words. “Caesar and Cleopatra? That’s cute and creative.”
“Apparently, the husband of the woman who started Soul Sync is really into history. All the clients get aliases inspired by iconic couples.”
Jack prods the lamb shanks with the tongs, adjusting their position on the grill before glancing over at me. “And how was Cleopatra?”
“She talked a lot about herself—where she’s traveled, how she stays in shape, her beauty routines. But she didn’t seem too interested in hearing much about me.”
Jack huffs a dry laugh. “Sounds like someone who’s used to being the center of attention.”
“Yeah, something like that.” I shrug, a brief grin crossing my face before it fades. “Don’t get me wrong—she sounds beautiful and clearly puts a lot of effort into it. But I have a Samoan mum. The women in my family don’t obsess over beauty like that. They care, but it’s not the focus of who they are.”
Laurelyn gives me a knowing smile. “Doesn’t sound like she’d fit in with Malie, your sisters, or the Samoan side of the family. You’ve been down that road before, Alex, and it didn’t work out so well.”
“Exactly.” I lean back, take another drink, and let the wine sit on my tongue for a moment longer before swallowing. “But––”
Laurelyn catches on right away. “But?”
“There’s another woman,” I say, feeling a little foolish—and maybe a little guilty as well. She’s not the one I’m supposed to be thinking about, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake her from my mind.
Jack raises an eyebrow. “Another woman?”
“It’s not like that,” I say quickly, raising a hand. “Before the date with Cleopatra started, I ended up talking to one of Soul Sync’s staff members—an American. She was setting up the room. There was a divider between us, so we couldn’t see each other, and we started chatting. I was nervous and thought talking to her might help me settle down before meeting my match.”
Laurelyn tilts her head, curiosity lighting up her expression. “And what’s this mystery woman’s name?”
“No clue. I only know she’s from Charleston, so that’s what I’ve been calling her. She’s the set director—the one who designs the room for the date.”
Jack’s grin widens. “And you couldn’t help chatting her up?”
“Something like that. The conversation flowed. No pressure, no pretense. She made me laugh, and for once, I didn’t feel so uptight.”
Laurelyn’s smile softens. “Sounds as though you like her.”
The truth settles in my gut. “Yeah. Honestly, I vibed more with Charleston than I did with my match.”
Jack’s grin turns sly like he’s already a step ahead of me. “And I bet you’ve thought about her more than you have Cleopatra.”
I haven’t thought about Cleopatra once since the date ended. Not even a passing thought. It’s Charleston who keeps popping into my head—her laugh, her voice, the way talking to her felt so easy. “Too true. I can’t get Charleston out of my head. There was something about her… it felt comfortable.”
Laurelyn glances at Jack, her brow furrowing in thought before looking back at me. “What if Soul Sync got it wrong? What if Cleopatra isn’t the right match for you?”
I turn the idea over in my mind. “Cleopatra’s the one they paired me with. That’s how it works.”
Laurelyn gives a small shrug. “Sometimes the best connections don’t make sense on paper.”
Jack grins. “Sounds like Charleston’s the one worth chasing, mate. Maybe that’s where your focus should be.”
Their words settle deep, stirring thoughts I’ve been trying to ignore. But that conversation with Charleston wasn’t just small talk. It sparked something real, something I can’t shake. One thing is certain––whoever that woman is, she’s got me thinking about things.
“All right, kiddos!” Laurelyn’s voice carries across the patio, bright and buoyant. “Out of the pool. Time to eat!”
The kids scramble to the table, wrapped in brightly colored towels that cling to their wet skin. The heavy metal chairs screech against the patio floor as they clamber into their seats, dripping water everywhere.
“Here you go, champ,” Jack says, sliding a plate toward one of the twins.
For the youngest, he cuts the shank into tiny bites, ruffling her wet curls as she grins up at him through a mouthful of bread.
Laurelyn trails behind Jack, placing forks and napkins within reach for the kids. “Try not to get dinner all over yourselves, yeah? We have a guest,” she says, pushing wet hair away from the youngest’s forehead.
Jack serves up another piece of lamb, passing it to Laurelyn without breaking stride. She nudges him with her elbow, a smile playing on her lips, and he answers with a quick wink—an unspoken language all their own between them. Theirs is a rhythm that’s clearly second nature to them, the kind of coordination that comes only from years of loving and living alongside each other.
There’s no fuss about manners tonight—just the easy comfort of family sharing a meal on the patio, surrounded by laughter, delicious lamb, and the tenacious scent of chlorine.
The hum of soft conversation and the clink of silverware settle around me. Jack’s youngest kicks her legs under the table, her little feet not reaching the ground, while the twins exchange mischievous glances that hint at future trouble.
The kids’ chatter overlaps, blending talk of school projects, a soccer game, and the twins’ latest antics. It’s noisy and chaotic, but it reminds me of my own childhood—messy and full of life. There’s a warmth in it, something I’ve been missing. This easy rhythm, the simple joy of being together, the small gestures that say we belong —it’s everything I want in my life, everything I’m missing out on.
For so long, life has been about chasing perfection—the next game, the next win, the next goal to conquer. But here, surrounded by the laughter of kids and the quiet ease of love, I wonder if family, connection, and belonging are what I’ve been running toward all along.
As the plates empty and the chatter fades, MJ, the oldest, leans forward with bright, excited eyes. “Mum, can I play the new song I learned for Uncle Alex? I’ve been practicing all week.”
Laurelyn smiles at her daughter with that special kind of encouragement only a mother can give. “Of course you can, sweetheart. Go grab your guitar.”
MJ bounces off her chair, still wrapped in her towel, and runs inside. Her excitement is infectious, and I smile as I watch her go.
Jack leans back, shooting me an easy grin. “She’s been working on this one just for you, mate.”
I chuckle softly, grateful to be included in moments like these.
MJ returns with her guitar, and the kids gather around, settling in to listen. Jack drapes an arm over the back of Laurelyn’s chair, and she leans into him, their quiet affection as natural as breathing. She strums the first chords, her melody rising with surprising confidence that takes me by surprise. Music isn’t a just a talent for this family—it’s a part of who they are.
As I watch them, an ache stirs deep in my chest—a longing for something real. Not only a partner, but a life like this—messy, full of love, and beautifully imperfect.