Chapter Twenty
June 2025
Caz lounged on the sofa in nothing more than boxer shorts and a vest. Even at eight o’clock, it was still hotter outside than Mount Vesuvius. A fan blew and moved slowly as it oscillated one way and then the other. The bowl of ice sitting beneath it had helped to create a bit of air conditioning, but it was still fidgety hot.
From the kitchen, she could hear Grace singing to herself as she went about creating a salad. Caz hoped there was some chicken, too, from the smell that was drifting in. Her stomach rumbled to confirm the desire.
“Do you need a hand?” she called out. Her head twisted to the side so she could hear Grace, but she needn’t have worried as her friend swanned into the room carrying two bowls.
“No, all done, but I left you the washing up.” Grace smiled and handed down a bowl. “Shift up,” she said, already preparing to perch herself onto the couch beside Caz.
“This smells awesome.”
“It does. I tried that new meat rub you bought—the lemon and fennel.”
“Beats going out any day.” Caz harpooned a cherry tomato with her fork and shoved it quickly into her mouth. “I think…you’re the best salad maker I know.”
Grace scoffed. “It’s just salad.”
“Nope, it’s not just anything. You put things in it I’d never think about.” She moved her fork about and hit a chickpea, raising it as evidence. “Like this, and the dressing. You always make amazing dressings.”
Grace sat back a little further and leaned against one of Caz’s bent knees.
“You’re just so easy to please.”
Caz nodded. “I guess, but equally, you are amazing.”
“Are you like this with all of your other girlfriends?” Grace asked before realising how that sounded. “I mean—”
“You’re my wife. None of them made it to that status.” Caz winked and stabbed at a chunk of avocado smothered in grated carrot. “But yeah, if you mean am I supportive, caring, and the kind of woman who wants to make sure her partner feels loved, then yeah…”
“You do certainly manage that,” Grace said, before another question hit her. “Do I do that…for you, I mean? Do I make sure you feel loved?”
Caz placed the fork into the bowl and the bowl into her lap. “Yes. Every day.” She smiled. “You do stuff for me that I wouldn’t think to do.”
“Like what?”
“I’ve never had to clean the bathroom. You’ve wiped it all down before I even think about it. My lunch is made and ready for me to just grab out of the fridge, and I love the little notes that have smiley faces or a silly joke. They make me smile when I open up the box and see them.”
Grace smiled at that.
“And you call me out on stuff, make me think about things from a different perspective, and give me time to work things out without us needing a row.”
“Do you think it’s weird that we don’t really argue, though?”
Caz picked up her fork again. “No.”
“I’ve never had a relationship where we didn’t row,” Grace mused, “like, full-on screaming at one another.”
Grimacing, Caz put her fork back down. “I mean, yeah, I guess, but it’s different with you.”
“I know what you mean, but why is that, do you think?”
“We did have that one big row, though,” Caz reminded her. “You didn’t speak to me for two days.”
“It was two hours.” Grace laughed. “Don’t exaggerate.” She smiled. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“I haven’t.”