Chapter 24
Rae tightened her bun a final time before stepping into the kitchen, where Dad and Myra were sat with Martha and her girlfriend, Vik, chatting over a bottle of wine.
She waited for the usual happiness that soared through her whenever she was in the same room as her best friend, but as she took in the strange scene, Martha reciting a story Rae had already heard about last winter’s trip to see Vik’s extended family in Mumbai, she only felt the same detachment she’d experienced in Sydney.
She didn’t stay unnoticed for nearly as long as she would have liked, Martha’s keen bright eyes finding her. ‘There you are! We thought you’d left us again!’
Rae was swept into a crushing vanilla-scented hug before she could respond, an anxious laugh falling from her. She just prayed she didn’t smell like woods, or waterfalls, or, God forbid, sex. Would Martha notice her damp hair? ‘I thought you weren’t coming until next week!’
Martha’s lips, painted their usual peach-pink shade, spread into a wide grin as she pulled away. ‘I couldn’t wait to share the— Struan!’
Rae didn’t dare glance behind her as Martha bulldozed her brother, though his voice still made her stomach twist. ‘Surprise.’
She fled to Vik quickly and offered a hug to the tall, muscular woman.
She was Martha’s complete opposite in every way, with dark, chiselled features and short, inky hair swept to one side.
Like if a Disney prince was a butch lesbian was the exact way Martha had described her after their first date.
Rae had met her only a few times in the three years they’d been dating, but she’d always mellowed Martha out with her relaxed humour – a perfect match, even if Martha hadn’t realised it until four dates in, when Vik had swept her off her feet with a planetarium visit.
‘Hang on,’ Martha said. ‘Did you two come in together?’
Sandwiching herself between Myra and Dad, Rae dared look at Struan. He was far better at feigning nonchalance than she was, his arm slung casually over Martha’s shoulders. ‘Little Rae and I are buddies now, aren’t we?’
Her throat tightened, and she prayed her blush wasn’t too obvious. Why couldn’t he have just delivered the excuse she’d prepared?
Thankfully, Struan’s hair had almost dried, but she wouldn’t put it past Martha to notice their crumpled clothes. It looked like they’d been rolling through the fields, not working in them.
Dad’s muttered, ‘Is that what they call it now?’ didn’t make her feel any better. Myra reprimanded him with a jab of her crutch. Rae decided she wouldn’t mind a stepmum so much after all.
Martha’s upper lip curled in something between surprise and disapproval. ‘Has he been annoying you, Rae? You know, you can just tell him to bugger off.’
‘Not at all,’ Rae replied thickly. Only then did she notice the rich blue-purple jewel winking on Martha’s manicured left hand. ‘Oh my God! What is that?’
She dashed over, grabbing Martha’s wrist to get a better look.
The gemstone was the colour of the night sky and framed by golden star-like points – not just any engagement ring, but the one that Martha had had saved on her Pinterest since the age of eighteen.
Rae glanced, open-mouthed, between the couple, her eyes welling.
Martha giggled. ‘I couldn’t wait to tell you. Vik finally popped the question!’
A brick dropped on Rae’s chest, and she despised herself for it.
Here Martha was, with the job and fiancée she’d always dreamed of, while Rae made a mess of her own life.
She gulped, willing herself to smile. She could be unfairly envious later, but not now.
Now, she had to be a good friend – and she wanted to be, so badly.
‘God help you, Vik,’ teased Struan as he dragged Martha in for a one-armed hug. He ruffled her blond micro-fringe in a way that had her scowling, then placed a kiss to the crown of her head. ‘Congrats, M. I’m chuffed for you both.’
But his voice was quiet, fragile, like maybe he felt that ache, too: the ache of loneliness, and maybe the ache of things that could never be.
Not that Rae wanted to marry him, of course, but the ring on Martha’s finger made her feel more certain she’d never get one of her own, if not because she was terrible at dating, then because the only person she’d ever experienced that kind of intimacy with was the one person she couldn’t have.
She snapped herself out of it all at once.
This was Martha, the woman who had started Pride Club when a school mean girl had outed her in third year; the woman who had gotten her heart broken by a string of terrible short-term relationships in her late teens and early twenties; the woman who had celebrated Rae’s first job, first promotion, first time working in a kitchen abroad.
Her best friend, who deserved the wedding of her dreams. Happiness wasn’t a zero-sum game, she reminded herself.
‘This is… the best news.’ Rae ran her thumb over the smooth gemstone. She meant it, the boulder in her gut finally rolling away to make room for real joy. ‘I’m so happy for you, Martha. For both of you.’
‘Thank you, Rae-Rae.’ Martha brushed the tears from Rae’s cheek. ‘I promise I’ll choose the hottest bridesmaid’s dresses ever. I’m thinking gold or deep blue.’
‘As long as you don’t make me go strapless.’
‘Don’t worry. Your tits are in safe hands.’
‘Thank goodness,’ chimed Dad sardonically.
‘We should celebrate!’ announced Martha, throwing her arms up and hitting Struan in the process. He took a cautious step back. ‘Is it too late for a Chef Docharty special?’
Rae glanced at Dad warily. Having Martha landing early wasn’t exactly helping with the ‘accidentally taking over the farm’ issue.
But he nodded, lacing a hand around Myra’s hip. ‘We can eat outside. It’s the perfect night for it.’
Martha clapped her hands, and just like that, it was decided.
Rae had dashed upstairs to freshen up midway through cooking.
Since it was late and she was exhausted, she’d opted for a dinner of picky bits mostly consisting of cheeses in various forms – Martha’s favourite.
Struan had been forced to the nearest 24-hour supermarket for crackers and deli meats, providing Rae with a much-needed breather.
Back in the kitchen now, Martha sipped wine and watched Rae arrange and rearrange the cheeseboard five different ways.
‘You do know you’re not on SuperCook? I think it’s okay to have smoked cheese next to the halloumi fries.’
Rae was too focused on trying to prevent the bruschetta from touching the gouda to pay much attention, though Martha’s scrutiny clawed at her skin like fingernails.
Hiding things from her was new and unpleasant.
Rae felt different, and surely it showed – not because she’d lost her virginity or anything as cliché as that.
She’d checked for that fictional glow in the mirror earlier, just to be sure, and instead found midge bites and sunburn.
And yet he’d changed her all the same. He’d shown her what she could have had all these years if she’d put any effort into dating, if she’d trusted in her own right to be desired.
He’d made her his in a way that had been both gentle and primal, and she wasn’t sure how to look at him, think of him, without remembering the way he’d fallen at her mercy with those throaty moans and oh-so careful thrusts.
It hadn’t been perfect, with the heat and the anxiety and her busy brain, but maybe that was why it had felt so good. In all that discomfort, they’d found pleasure, and he hadn’t stopped or grown impatient when she’d needed more time. He’d helped her. Let her find her way through.
‘Rae,’ Martha said.
‘Hm?’
‘You’re not upset with me, are you? For the conversation we had the other day?’
She placed down the cheese knife, a tremble rushing through her. She could tell Martha the truth now. It would be quick and probably a relief.
It could also ruin her happy night, and her summer plans, and the most important thing in Rae’s life: their friendship.
So, she replied, ‘No…’
‘Okay. Because I’m only holding half a grudge about how quiet you’ve been, although I might reconsider, if you’re besties with my brother now.’
Rae pressed her lips together, hoping she looked more composed than she felt. ‘You’re not okay with us hanging out?’
Martha shrugged and sipped her wine. ‘It’s just a wee bit weird. You were the one thing we didn’t have to share growing up. Does that sound childish?’
Rae had never thought of it that way. She’d never had a sibling, never been forced to divide all her sweets or share her favourite toys.
Only, Rae wasn’t a toy, and her gut squirmed at the suggestion she was an object Martha owned. It made her feel like a Toy Story character with two names printed on the soles of her shoe: Martha on one, Struan on the other.
If Martha couldn’t accept Rae and Struan being friends, she’d never accept the feelings Rae had for him. Feelings she wasn’t ready to admit to, regardless of whether Martha was here or not, because they were too big and heavy and terrifying.
‘I think I just feel left out,’ Martha continued, breaking through the uneasy silence. ‘You don’t have time for me, but I come back to find you’ve had time for him.’
‘It isn’t like that. He was just helping me out. Everything’s been chaotic since I got back.’
‘Right, like your dad getting cosy with Cam’s mum, of all people. Awkward.’
‘Yeah, it was a surprise for me too.’ Rae glanced at them through the kitchen window.
Her dad and Myra sat on the patio chairs with Vik, believing themselves to be subtle with their hands interlaced under the table.
Myra had offered to leave them to a family dinner, but Rae had insisted she stay.
Exposure therapy. If she got used to seeing them together, maybe it wouldn’t feel so strange.
It was sort of working, mostly because Dad’s uncharacteristically sweet admiration of Myra dampened his usual grumpiness. He hadn’t complained about Rae’s ideas once tonight. She’d call it a win.
‘I did actually go for drinks with Cam yesterday,’ Rae added, because otherwise it would come up later, when Martha wasn’t tipsy and happy.
Still, this time her reproach came in the form of a wrinkled nose. ‘Why?’
‘Because we used to be friends?’
‘Yeah, until she broke my heart.’
Rae gave her a flat look. ‘You broke each other’s hearts. And I hurt her by not keeping up with her after.’
‘Boo-hoo,’ Martha said scornfully.
Struan’s return saved her from more barbs.
He placed a plastic bag on the counter, scraping his hair back from his eyes.
Rae couldn’t help but watch his fingers take the same journey hers had, not hours before.
She craved the softness of those strands, the memory feathering over her palms like a ghost. Her stomach sank to think she’d never experience it again.
How much of him had she forgotten to drink in because she hadn’t known it would be over so soon?
‘They only had chorizo and prosky-utto,’ he announced.
‘Prosciutto,’ Martha and Rae corrected at the same time.
‘That’s what I said. I did get caramel ice cream for dessert, though.
Anything else this humble servant can do for you ladies?
’ He bowed with a dramatic flourish. For the first time, Rae saw how much of a performance it was.
He wanted to make them laugh, perhaps even at his own expense, but underneath oozed gentleness and subtlety and those unsettlingly sharp abilities of observation, especially when it came to her.
Pathetically, she already missed him. Missed who he was when it was just the two of them with nothing to hide.
‘You can mess up Rae’s cheeseboard so she gives up fiddling and actually serves it to us.’
‘I’d never upset a chef. She could poison our next meal.’
‘Now there’s an idea,’ Rae retorted.
He grinned, plucking a cherry tomato from the plate. She tutted, replacing it to maintain the even number.
‘I’m going to have to get a photo of the sunset.’ Martha hopped off the counter and walked outside. Her hand drifted over Vik’s shoulder as she passed the table, such a natural, loving gesture. A gesture Rae had never known. Nobody ever reached for her, nor she them – except for him.
He was watching her like he wanted to, probably seeing all of that wicked envy written on her face.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
Rae nodded, unwrapping the sliced meats and arranging them around the cheeses to resemble flowers.
Struan sidled closer, his fingertips on her back commanding every nerve to stand to attention.
She took a deep, shaky breath, feeling as though she’d dipped a toe into an ice bath.
It would be so easy to throw herself in, relieve herself from this heat, but what good would it do?
She’d come out shivering and numb and wanting more.
If she had just stayed away, she’d have never found out what she was missing. She wouldn’t be experiencing the emptiness expanding through her now.
‘Stop,’ she whispered when his hand moved lower. Not searching, just comforting, because he always seemed to know when she needed it – which only made it harder, like she’d known it would. ‘Please, just stop.’
So, Struan did, putting space between them again. His expression contorted with an anguish she didn’t want to see.
Even when she left the kitchen, hands clutching the cheeseboard too tightly, she felt him like an inflamed rash all over her skin.
It would be a miracle if she survived the summer.