25. 25 #2
“Because if we told you, you’d have said no,” he says. “And don’t deny it. You would’ve made up some excuse about needing space or ‘still settling in’ or whatever half-truth you’re using these days. Spontaneity always works best on you.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, reaching for the wine and taking a slow sip. The taste is bold, unnecessarily fruity. “You two are a menace.”
Jeff flashes a grin that tells me he knows he’s right, then sets his glass down with a deliberate clink on the table. When he looks at me again, the amusement fades. His shoulders roll back, and he squares his expression, lawyer mode snapping into place. I already don’t like it.
“I’m not gonna sugarcoat this,” he says. “You need to come to Sydney next week.”
The words hit before I have time to prepare. My spine stiffens. “What?”
“Liam’s lawyer filed an intent to claim his share of the apartment,” he says carefully. “He’s going after everything he thinks he can take.”
My stomach sinks, the wine suddenly bitter on my tongue. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. I’ll let you know a day and time. We’re already drafting a response, but we need you to show up. Sign things. Be present. Show that you’re fighting this, not disappearing into the countryside hoping it’ll go away.”
“Right.” I swallow down the lump lodged in my throat.
“I told you to get a prenup.”
“You tell me a lot of things.” I level him with a look.
“He also told you not to marry him,” Dani says, picking at a piece of lint on her blazer jacket.
“And I was right on both counts,” Jeff says, straightening again, his chin tilted in mock pride. “Which officially makes me the best and wisest gay man you know.”
“You’re the only gay man I know.”
He winks. “Exactly.”
The tension in the room cracks just slightly, and I hear Dani’s voice cut in behind me as she shuffles back into the cushions of my too-small couch, feet tucked up beneath her.
“By the way,” she says casually, “I checked in with Elizabeth last week. She’s doing a brilliant job with your team. Nailed the client pitches, keeping everyone in line.
“She should be doing well. I trained her.”
Dani smiles. “Then you should check in. They’d love to hear from you. You’re still their person, Zo. Even from here.”
“I will,” I murmur, though my throat tightens around the words. “Soon.”
There’s a pause. A shared moment of comfortable silence. Then the inevitable comes.
“So… what have you actually been doing?” Jeff asks, dragging the question out slowly, eyebrows lifted.
I lift my shoulders, suddenly hyper-aware of how little I have to offer. “Honestly? Not much. Trying to settle. I didn’t want to come back, but it’s… been okay.”
“Okay?” Dani repeats, already suspicious.
“I met some people. There’s this woman, Imogen. Her friends have been welcoming.”
“Wow,” Jeff says, with a hand over his heart. “Replaced us already.”
“You traitor,” Dani adds, gasping theatrically.
But I have been trying. Not to replace them, but to survive.
So I give them a rundown of my time here in Wattle Creek, keeping it light, brief.
Just enough to paint the picture without inviting questions I’m not ready to answer.
I tell them about the town—the café that overcharges for burnt coffee, the bakery where the owner gossips more than she bakes, the stares I still get when I walk into a room like I don’t belong here.
Which, maybe I don’t. But I’m pretending I do.
What I don’t mention is everything else.
I don’t tell them about the night I rode a motorbike for the first time and felt an adrenaline pulse through my chest in a way I hadn’t since my early twenties.
I don’t tell them how that rush felt like breathing for the first time in years.
Or how Liam hated anything with an engine louder than a luxury sedan, so I’d dulled that part of me to keep the peace.
How I’m starting to wonder if I’ve dulled other parts, too.
And I definitely don’t mention Michael.
Talking to Jeff and Dani has always been easy. Natural. But that’s the thing about knowing someone for years—they see the shifts. The weight behind what you don’t say. And I’m not ready to hand them that.
Jeff interrupts just as I’m finishing my summary, tilting his head. “Hold on,” he says, eyes narrowing in mock accusation. “Didn’t you say you hated this town?”
I cross my arms. “I do.”
Well, I thought I did. But even to my own ears, the words sound weaker than they used to.
Jeff begins talking again—something about timelines, dates, legal filings—but I barely hear it.
My eyes fall on Dani, who’s watching me too closely.
Her brow creases slightly, her head tilting.
There’s a softness in her gaze, something thoughtful.
“You’re different,” she says, interrupting Jeff’s ramble.
I arch a brow. “Different how?”
“You smiled the whole time you talked about them. This town. That never used to happen.” Her smile tilts, teasing but gentle. “You don’t seem so wound up.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly, but my lips betray me, tugging at the corners.
Jeff shrugs, gesturing toward me with his wine. “She’s not wrong.”
I sink deeper into the armchair, trying to brush off the weight of their stares, but they’ve already seen through it.
“I don’t think you hate being here as much as you say,” Jeff adds, all-knowing and smug.
Great. Another person who can see straight through my bullshit. Sprinkles trots in from the kitchen and promptly launches herself onto my lap, settling in as though she’s earned the right to judge me, too. She starts to purr, loudly, pressing her cheek into my thigh.
“My point exactly,” Dani says, her tone smug. “When would you have ever entertained the idea of a pet? You didn’t even want to babysit my niece with me last Christmas. Now you’ve got a hissing demon who thinks you’re her emotional support human.”
Jeff arches a brow. “And how are you managing that, by the way?”
I roll my eyes. “Just fine, thank you. Are you doubting my ability to keep something alive?”
Jeff doesn’t even blink. “Absolutely. You did once manage to kill a succulent because you forgot it existed.”
I scoff, but before I can defend myself, his gaze flicks to the corner of the room, by the kitchen bench. His brows lift, lips twitching. “Well, well,” he drawls, pointing. “Is that a jungle gym? A four-tier cat tower? Jeez, Zo. You’ve gone all out.”
My eyes narrow. “That wasn’t my doing.”
“Ah,” Dani says, eyes glinting. “So this mysterious someone got it?”
I say nothing.
“Hm. So…” Jeff says, drawing out the words. “Who is he?”
I nearly choke on my own saliva. “What?”
Jeff grins victoriously. “Don’t play dumb. I know that look. You’re trying too hard to be casual. You’re dodging. And you’re being vague.”
“There is no look,” I argue weakly. “And I’m not dodging anything.”
“There is a look,” Dani says, all sing-song and far too satisfied. “And you are absolutely dodging.”
I throw my head back against the cushion and groan. “You two are exhausting.”
Jeff raises his glass in salute. “And yet, you love us.”
God help me, I do.
We’ve just finished clearing the last of the takeaway containers, the sound of cardboard crinkling as I stuff them into the kitchen bin, when a knock echoes through the house.
Three firm taps.
My hands freeze mid-motion. That’s not the sound of the postie or some random neighbour. It’s confident. Familiar. My stomach dips. Dani’s already halfway across the room, wine glass still in hand. “I’ve got it!”
“Wait—” My voice catches in my throat. Too late.
She swings the door open.
And my chest caves in on itself.
Because Michael stands firmly, leaning casually against the doorframe—helmet hooked in one hand, wearing that crooked half-grin that never fails to spark something inconvenient deep in my gut.
His eyes flick to Dani, then land on me.
They narrow, just enough to tell me he’s trying to figure out who this stranger is.
“Well,” Dani says, cocking her hip. “Can I help you?”
“Uh, hey,” he replies, casual as ever.
“Michael.” I blink. “What—what are you doing here?”
His mouth quirks. “You texted me about the car, remember? I followed up. Thought I’d swing by and—”
He trails off, finally letting his gaze move between all three of us. The couch. The open bottle of wine. The two strangers flanking my tiny living room like they’ve settled in for the season. Dani turns her head over her shoulder to me, mouth already forming words before sound follows.
“Who is that?” she mouths dramatically, brows high with intrigue.
I swallow hard and cross the room toward them. “Michael,” I say, trying to sound normal, even as my brain short-circuits. “This is… Dani. And Jeff.”
He nods once in greeting, his stance easy but his eyes still scanning every inch of the scene.
“Jeff,” comes the warm, theatrical voice from behind me. “Legal counsel, and the voice of reason when you inevitably do something questionable. Pleased to meet the mystery man we’ve heard absolutely nothing about.”
I close my eyes briefly. “You haven’t heard anything because there’s nothing to tell.”
Michael’s brow quirks as he extends his hand toward Jeff, who clasps it eagerly, grinning.
“Pleasure,” Michael says, then turns to Dani and offers the same handshake, gentler this time.
She takes it, though her eyes don’t leave his face. She’s studying him. Assessing. Probably mentally noting his height, the helmet, and the way his eyes flick back to me when he thinks no one’s watching. I wish I could sink into the floor.
Jeff leans in a fraction, still holding his wine. “Zoe, my dear,” he drawls. “Have you been holding out on us?”
“Absolutely not,” I bite out, hoping he gets my drift to stop prying. He doesn’t.
“Sorry,” Michael rasps quietly, raking a hand over his shaven hair. “I didn’t realise you had company.”
“So, Michael, right? I’m assuming the infamous local that has been assisting with that demon in the form of a cat, over there?” Jeff says, nodding to Sprinkles, who now prods between mine and Michael’s legs.
Michael lets out a deep chuckle. “That would be one way of describing Sprinkles, but yeah. Infamous, you say? That’s a strong word.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Jeff smirks. “We only use the big ones for special occasions.”
“Zoe was only just updating us on her time here in town, and mentioned you once or twice.” She’s stirring the fucking pot, and for what reason? I could not tell you. Typical Dani.
“I did not,” I mutter way too fast.
Michael glances at me, clearly amused. “Good things, I hope.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
The four of us stand there in a silence that feels far too crowded.
Jeff is still grinning, Dani is watching, Michael is confused, and I’m stuck between two worlds.
Comfort and awkwardness collide at my feet.
These two people—Jeff and Dani—have seen me at my lowest. They know who I was before Liam.
Before the fallout. Before I had to run.
And Michael? So far, he’s only seen the version of me that came after. The cautious, brittle one. The one who wants to rebuild but doesn’t know how.