“God, the questions. It’s like a low-key episode of 60 minutes,” Seb replied, the shift from ally to foe fast.
“Don’t you start,” I snapped at my brother. “I moved a coaster at your bar once and I saw your spirit leave your body.”
“Hey,” Marlee cooed, “leave my man alone. He does not need to join me in my therapy sessions, he just needs people to put things back where they found them.” Her impersonation of my brother sent me into a fit of giggles which everyone else joined - well other than Seb - who was scowling.
“Maybe if you didn’t move things without even touching anything,” he replied, pulling her in to kiss the top of her head with the kind of affection that didn’t need announcing. Just a gentle thing shared between people who didn’t have to think twice.
I hated how much I noticed. Hated more that I checked to see if Coop did too, his gaze already honed in on me as if he could read my mind.
“You four will be the death of family dinners,” Mum said dryly, shooting us a glare we all knew meant no more teasing. “I do not want a repeat of the baked dinner of 2010, so regardless of age, bank account status or fake relationship drama, we love each other here.”
“Ooooh, what happened at the 2010 baked dinner?” Marlee asked, completely ignoring the point of Mum’s comment and I bit back my smirk.
“In my defence,” I started, palms raised ready to explain.
“Is this a new explanation or a refresh of an old one?” Cooper interjected.
“Seriously, Toby and I want to hear this story, don’t we?” Marls said to a clearly lost Toby who was too busy opening his beer to pay attention. The poor bloke probably just wanted a quiet dinner.
“So, Evangeline was sprouting some boring Maths fact she’d Googled before dinner-” my brother started.
“I didn’t Google it!” I exclaimed with the same vehemence I’d used in 2010 and every time this discussion came up since.
“Okay, maybe she just randomly discovered that if you multiply numbers by 11, you can work it out in your head or some shit.”
“Language, Sebastian,” Mum reprimanded, although I could see she was enjoying this as much as he was.
“You still don’t even understand it, Sergeant Schedule,” I said, causing Cooper to choke on his water. “I was telling them how if you multiply any number by 11, you can do it in your head. Like 11 times 23 is 253 - because you just put the digits with their sum in the middle.”
Everyone was staring at me as though what I just explained was rocket science.
“Seriously? Like 23 times 11 equals 253. 2 + 3 = 5. So thatwould be two, five, three.” I said slowly, using my hands for added emphasis, and still the table stared at me silently.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I snapped, immediately apologising to my mum before everybody fell into peels of laughter.
“That hurts my brain,” Marls giggled.
“So, this was exactly how we felt,” my brother continued. “Only Evs got really mad, because then I embarrassed her by saying she was just trying to impress Cooper, and I actually think steam came out of her ears.”
“Because you were being a dick!” I snapped. “I’ll just give you ten dollars at this point, Mum.” I added, referring to my excessive swearing.
Cooper, who’d been silently laughing through the whole retelling, finally chimed in. “Anyway, I’m sitting there minding my own business, still trying to mentally work out that maths equation, which I still don’t understand if I’m honest, and a shoe comes flying across the table and whacks me in the head.” His hand unknowingly reached for the spot above his right eyebrow where my glittered sneaker had smacked him all those years ago.
“Oh my God!” Marlee squeaked, her hand over her mouth, eyes sparkling with delight.
“I meant to hit that fool.” I pointed at Sebastian who was now in hysterics.
“And that is why we aren’t allowed to bicker at the table,” Mum said, biting back a laugh of her own.
“Dinners here were always the best. Both because of the food and the entertainment.” Cooper said genuinely.
“Speaking of,” Marls took the opportunity to segue, “Seb said you’ve been baking all day, Jude, what delicacies do we have on the menu tonight?” Marlee loved Mum’s treats and no doubt was hoping there was enough to take home.
“Well, I made macadamia cookies but I also whipped up some sticky date pudding,” she declared, to a chorus of exaggerated ooohs and aahhhs led by Cooper.
“Evy made some of your little choc-mint slices the other dayand they were so bloody good.” Cooper praised and I stood suddenly, reaching for any dishes which looked finished.
“Which ones are they?” Sebastian asked, handing me his plate.
