I glance down at my plate. “I think Pearl’s and Coral’s eggs were better than these.”
He looks up, something shifting in his expression. “They were pretty good. Especially when we didn’t have anything else.”
“Yeah.” I nudge the eggs with my fork.
Pearl and Coral were wild chickens that decided to stick around. They kept us fed when the traps came up empty.
I push a piece of egg around my plate.
I didn't get much sleep last night. Too many thoughts about the future. Too many questions neither of us has answers to yet.
“We need to start thinking about what comes next and what our lives actually look like now. We need something to do. Something beyond just existing.”
Dane nods. “Yeah. I don't know what work looks like for us, but we'll figure it out. People work jobs without degrees. There has to be something.”
I stare down at my breakfast.
My life has turned out so differently from what I imagined. I always thought it would look something like Mum’s—raising children, building a family, filling my days with the ordinary things that come with that life.
Not someday. Not as a vague idea. It was just something I assumed would happen. Part of the future I pictured for myself.
“We need to catch up on our education,” I say. “We’ve missed too much.”
“Can you imagine me in a classroom full of twelve-year-olds?” There’s a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Reckon I’d dominate them on the footy field. They wouldn’t know what hit them.”
I laugh, despite myself. “That’s not exactly what I mean.”
A hint of a grin. “Way to ruin a bloke’s dream.”
“We should get a tutor. Someone who can work with us privately, get us up to speed. Then we figure out what comes next.”
“Yeah.” He nods once. “That makes sense.”
I push the last of my egg around the plate. “I always thought I’d go to uni. Before, I mean. Back when I thought that was still an option.”
I haven’t said it out loud before.
“What did you want to study?”
I shrug. “Before the island, I thought I wanted to be an accountant. I liked numbers—the way they fit together, how everything balances when it’s done right. But somewhere between reading Mum’s romance novels over and over and making up stories in my head, that changed.”
“You should write. You’d be good at it.”
“You’re biased.”
“Obviously, but that doesn’t make me wrong.” He reaches over and steals the last of my toast. “You’re also a pretty good hairdresser.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You are though.”
“I’m not cutting anyone else’s hair, Dane.”
“Probably for the best.” He raises an eyebrow. “Your professional boundaries with your only client are terrible.”
I look at him across the table. He meets it easily, like he hasn’t said anything at all, just eating stolen toast.
“You’re awful, Dane Gallagher.”
