Chapter 12 #2
The views open out, the sea to the left of me, the road curving in and out past rocky points where the surf breaks like a dream, past houses set back in the trees, rising and falling with the land.
I pass the gates to Claire’s place, and for a moment think of dropping in to see her, like I would if we were really dating, to sit on her deck with her and watch the sun set together.
The urge is so strong I slow down, but I know I have to keep going.
We’ve set some boundaries already, but I get the sense her home is sacred.
I don’t want to go there unless she invites me, at least not with things as they are now.
But then how do I want things to be? I’m still pondering the question as I eventually pull into Kylie and Matt’s driveway, Lorne sparkling below me. Matt comes out to greet me, clapping me on the shoulder.
“How are things?”
I know he’s not just asking about Melbourne. He was there when we pulled Millie out of the darkness.
“They’re okay. She’s good, man. We went to Luna Park yesterday, just like old times.” I show him the photo I took.
“Sweet,” he says, nodding. “Come on in. Kylie’s got the dinner going.”
I follow him inside. He and Kylie bought their house years ago, when things were more affordable.
I thought it was a huge amount of money and responsibility at the time, but now I think he’s a financial genius, the place worth four times what they paid for it.
They lived in the little old fibro house for a while, until they could afford to knock it down and rebuild.
The new place is an airy space of timber and glass, framing the sky and gum trees and views.
I still sometimes miss the old house though, the yellow kitchen cupboards and creaking floorboards, the little bedroom where I used to crash whenever I was here.
Kylie is setting out bowls on the big kitchen island when I walk in, and there’s a fantastic smell of garlic and tomatoes and herbs. “Bryce,” she says with a grin. “Hope you’re hungry.”
“Always,” I say, going over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “But you need to get this husband of yours cooking too once in a while, you know.”
“Oh, he does his share,” she says, grabbing a colander full of steaming pasta and spooning it into the bowls. “Mostly on the barbeque.”
“I also make a mean pizza,” Matt says, picking up the saucepan from the stove and ladling sauce onto our pasta. “And bacon and eggs, of course.”
“You’re a regular chef, babe,” Kylie says, the words laced with affection, as she tears up fresh basil, sprinkling it on the pasta. “Parmesan?”
I realise she’s asking me. I blink, lost in a momentary daydream of sharing a similar moment with Claire, being in her kitchen surrounded by light and warmth and the smell of good cooking. What the hell is wrong with me? I barely know the girl and I’m already dreaming of happy families.
“Uh, yeah. Don’t hold back.”
Kylie frowns at me, handing the dishes to Matt who brings them over to the scrubbed timber table, which is set with mats, napkins and cutlery.
“Take a seat,” he says to me, gesturing to the place opposite his.
“Thanks, man. This looks gr—”
“And then you can tell us what the fuck you’re playing at with Claire,” Kylie adds, as she comes to join us, putting a beer in front of me and another for Matt.
I groan. I should have known this was coming. I did, to be honest. I’d been rehearsing what I was going to say on the drive down, something about how we connected at the pub and that I couldn’t stop thinking about her. All true, except for the bit where this is a relationship of convenience.
I dig into my pasta, wanting some space to collect my thoughts. “This is awesome, Kylie,” I say.
“Don’t change the subject,” she says, with a grin. “And I know it is. Old family recipe.”
“Fine.” I put my fork down. “Yeah. So … she and I, we’re dating.”
“Dating?” Kylie narrows her eyes. “Not your usual style, Bryce.”
“Maybe I’m changing my style,” I say.
Matt snorts, taking a pull on his beer. Kylie just stares at me, her arms folded. Fuck. I can’t lie to them.
“Okay, so, Jeff called me. After that photo came out on socials.”
Kylie shakes her head.
“The sponsors were pissed. Particularly Ocean’s Curl. Apparently I spend too much time shagging randoms and not enough time surfing.” I grimace. Jeff’s words still sting, to be honest.
Matt glances at Kylie.
“Anyway, so you know all that shit that went down at the pub, with Claire and that asshole? And how I stepped in?”
“Yeah.” Kylie is looking wary now. “What about it?”
I shrug. “Well, apparently it went viral, me saying Claire was my girlfriend. And Jeff told me I better make it look good. So I asked her.”
“To be your girlfriend?” Matt frowns. “You barely fucking know her!”
“It’s more of an … arrangement.”
Kylie’s brows shoot up. “An arrangement? What sort of arrangement?”
“She needed to get that guy off her back. I needed a girlfriend. So I asked her if she wanted to pretend. For a month.” It sounds totally shit when I say it like that. As though Claire doesn’t mean anything. As though our time together is just a business arrangement. I don’t like it.
“And she said yes?” Kylie sounds completely scandalised.
“She did. Jeff had her sign an NDA. He wanted to pay her for her time, too, but she said no. She’s pretty cool.”
“She’s very fucking cool,” Kylie says. “And this sounds insane. So you’d better not mess her around.”
“Oh, come on.” Matt drops his head back. “You know you’re going to end up in bed with her before the month is out. Before the week is out, probably.”
“It’s not like that! She’s… I like her. I want to hang out with her.”
“But not actually date her. Just pretend.” Kylie shakes her head. “You are something else.”
“We both benefit from the arrangement. And we’ve set some boundaries.”
“Oh my god.” Kylie snorts and gets up from the table, taking the empty pasta bowls with her. “Boundaries. How about just having an actual relationship?”
“It is a relationship. For a month.”
“With an NDA. Sounds very romantic.” Matt gets up from the table. “Come on outside.” He jerks his head towards the huge glass doors leading to the deck.
“Maybe I want to help Kylie with the dishes,” I say.
“He’s going to be softer on you than I would be,” she says. “Besides, they’re all going in the dishwasher. Go on.”
Fuck. Accepting my fate, I head outside.
Matt is sitting on the edge of the timber deck.
The ground drops away below it, a gentle incline lined with boulders and native grasses that always remind me of fireworks, their spiky tops moving in the evening breeze.
The ocean hums below us, the lights of Lorne visible through the gum trees. It’s beautiful.
I sit down next to Matt and wait for him to tell me what an idiot I am. I kind of feel like I deserve it, to be honest. But instead, he takes another pull from his beer, staring into the eucalyptus-scented night.
“You came back for Millie, right?”
His question surprises me. “Yeah. Mum said she was worried, so I came back.”
“Is that what it takes, though? For you to be here with your family? With your mates? A crisis.”
Matt is twenty-eight, the same age as me.
He’s known Millie since she was born, when we were both six years old.
She’s like a sister to him. And that’s the only reason I’m not arcing up with rage right now, why I let him get away with saying this shit to me.
That and the fact that, deep down, I know he’s right.
“What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that we’re not getting any younger, mate.
You make a good living. You have a fucking awesome life, let’s be honest. I know why you left, and why you stay away.
I know you have to travel for work, too.
But maybe it’s time for things to change.
For your life to change. Jeff was right, and you fucking know it. ”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I guess.”
I hate that he’s correct. That they both are.
I am running away. From my past, from my family, from all the stuff that feels too difficult.
The girls, the drinking, all that shit is a distraction from what really matters.
It’s a moment of clarity, sitting there in the darkness.
I think of Claire, then. She didn’t run.
She faced her past – is facing it, every day.
Living where her parents died, dealing with the truth of their deaths.
Living in the house they built. I want to bring her out of the shadows.
Maybe she can help me face my own shadows, too.
“You can’t fuck around forever,” Matt continues. “Wherever you go, you’re carrying all that shit with you. At some point you have to face it and ask yourself, what do you really want from life?”
I shrug. “I don’t know what I want.”
Matt says nothing. Because he knows I’m lying.
“Uh, okay. I want Millie to be okay,” I say.
“I asked about you, not Millie. But do you have any reason to think she isn’t?”
I shake my head. “She seemed good, when I saw her. Said she was going to school, looked well. I didn’t see anything to be worried about.”
“So why stick around, then? Surely you’ve got waves to surf somewhere.” The affection in his words mitigates their sting, somewhat.
I don’t say anything.
“What do you really want?” he says again. “If you could have anything right now, what would it be?”
I don’t say anything, because despite all that’s happened to me, the first thing that comes into my mind is a surprise. Or maybe it isn’t.
Claire.