When I dash downstairs and fling open the door, Zac’s face drops.
‘Are you OK?’ he says. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing!’Way too perky, Josie.‘I might have a bit of a cold,’ I lie, pinching my throat.
He frowns. ‘Do you still have that cough?’
The question hits like a gut punch right now. ‘No, that’s gone,’ I mumble as we get inside his car, forcing all thoughts of bloodied toilet paper and metastatic cancer out of my head.
Tension begins to leak out of my bones the moment we pull away from the house. I haven’t told Zac yet about Davide’s public three-way or the fact that I spent the night in a hotel. It’s not the sort of thing I wanted to mention over text.
Zac’s gaze flickers to mine for a moment. His olive-coloured T-shirt that says ‘Stop Making Stupid People Famous’ matches his eye colour to an almost farcical degree.
‘You’re quiet today,’ he observes.
I expel a heavy sigh. ‘It’s been a week.’
‘Oh yeah? Work kicking your ass again?’
I’m grateful to have a distraction from what’s going on inside my body, and we share a few stories about our work weeks until I rip the bandaid off and tell Zac all about Davide’s living-room threesome.
His fingers tighten around the steering wheel. ‘Are you joking with me right now?’
‘I wish. I slept in a motel that night. I was actually scared.’
‘Josie.’ His brows come together. ‘Why didn’t you call me?’
‘I did. You didn’t answer.’
With one hand on the wheel, his other grips his hair, mocha curls sprouting through his fingers. ‘Shit. I’m so sorry. That was a Thursday, right? I had an early shift on Friday. I texted you in the morning, but—’
‘It’s fine. It’s old news now.’
We stop at a set of traffic lights, and Zac looks at me, his jaw set. ‘I don’t like that guy. At all.’
‘Why would you? He’s an A-grade weirdo. But he apologised, and I’ve hardly seen him since, thank goodness. He’s started up his late-night reiki sessions again, and I’m usually gone before he gets up in the morning.’ I shrug a shoulder.
Zac watches me for a moment before the light changes. He makes another left, then reverse parks opposite a sprawling corner pub that looks newly renovated. As we climb out of the car, I register how closewe are to Zac’s house—he could have just walked here. I hope Meghan knows how lucky she is. Lindsay didn’t even ask me how I’d be getting to our date.
‘How come Meghan’s not coming today?’ I ask, aware of the hesitation in my voice as we cross the road to the pub.
‘Does she have to come everywhere?’ he replies lightly, the sun setting his caramel eyes alight. When I don’t answer, he elaborates. ‘She’s had a big work week, so she’s taking some chill time today.’
‘Oh, right.’
No, Josie, they haven’t broken up. Stop being horribly selfish and also weird.
I’m probably only grumpy over Meghan because she presented the news four nights in a row this week. Christina’s been texting me for days now, and I’ve been replying with hilarious memes about small-town life, but I haven’t been able to break it to her yet that I’m not exactly kicking butt up here at NRN News.
Inside the pub, Ross waves us over from a high table in a beer garden surrounded by potted palms and string lights. I dart towards his infectious smile. Few people in this universe can make you feel as instantly at ease as Ross Jameson.
‘Josie-girl,’ he says through a grin, standing to engulf me in a bear hug. Over his shoulder, a petite woman with black hair styled into a fifties-look quiff offers me a shy smile.
I step towards her. ‘Hey, I’m Josie.’
‘The girl I’ve heard so much about,’ she replies warmly, her brief hug smelling like hairspray.
Zac buys a round of beers, and we all catch up, tossing in explanations to Holly so she doesn’t get lost when we begin reminiscing about our younger years. Ross also grew up in Sydney but moved to Newcastle when he started university and quickly fell in love with the smaller, sleepier city. He asks about my family and gives me a sad smile when I explain that they’ve all deserted me for the excitement of living abroad.
