Lachie downs his coffee and plonks the cup on the table, picking up his guitar case and bending down to peck me on the lips. ‘Have a good day,’ he says.
‘You too,’ I reply.
I watch him follow Fliss down the external staircase. The frown is still etched onto my forehead when I return indoors.
Elliot texts me at eleven, wondering if I’m free for brunch. I reply that I am, glad to have something to take my mind off yesterday’s email. I went back to bed after Lachie left, but couldn’t sleep for my mind ticking over.
We meet up at a café across the road from Manly Beach. Elliot is already at a table when I arrive, looking decidedly worse than Fliss did at six o’clock this morning. His normally tanned skin is washed out and pasty and he’s resting his darkly stubbled jaw on his hand. He smiles up at me, wearily.
‘Hungover?’ I ask the obvious question.
‘Not really,’ he replies, to my surprise, as I take a seat opposite him. ‘Miserable more than anything.’
‘Oh, El,’ I say with sympathy, reaching across to touch his hand. His eyes fill up with tears.
‘Christ!’ he mumbles, averting his gaze with embarrassment. ‘I should’ve stayed at home.’
‘No, it’s good that you came out. Have you ordered yet?’
‘Just a coffee.’
On cue, the waitress brings it over. I order a latte for myself and turn my attention back to Elliot, who’s in the process of upending three sachets of sugar into his drink.
‘How was last night?’ I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
He shrugs. ‘It was all right.’
‘Anything happen with Fliss?’
‘Nah, we just went dancing. She’s not into me like that.’
‘I think she has a crush on Lachie.’
‘He only has eyes for you,’ he replies without missing a beat.
‘So shedoeslike him, doesn’t she?’
‘I don’t know, Bron.’ He looks awkward, all of a sudden.
I try to ignore the niggling feeling in my stomach as I pick up the menu.
‘Have you spoken to Bridget?’ he asks when we’ve ordered.
‘Last night,’ I reply quietly.
He shakes his head and picks up his coffee, taking a large, scalding mouthful and wincing. ‘It’s too soon,’ he states, putting his cup down a little too firmly on the wooden table.
‘She seems pretty sure about him.’
‘Yeah,’ he says bitterly. His blue eyes dart up to meet mine. ‘Why didn’t she ever tell me she wanted a kid?’ He sounds anguished.
‘I’m not sure evensheknew it. But would it have made a difference? I thought you were set on not having children.’
‘Yeah, I was. I am. I just… I don’t know. We could have at least talked about it.’
‘And said what? Shewashappy with you, El. Shewas. But maybe she didn’t know what shereallywanted until it was right there in front of her.’
‘I should’ve proposed to her sooner.’
