Page 31 of The F*ck-It List

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” I mumble, balancing the heavy dish of stuffing and Darcy’s lead.

“Please,” she scoffs. “Like I’m going to turn up empty handed.”

I open the front door and for the first time think I probably should have warned my mum and dad Bea was coming. I’m sure it’ll be fine, they’re amore the merrierkind of people.

“Hey, it’s me,” I call into the house. There’s a hum of hustle and bustle coming from the kitchen, and I lead the way to where my family is preparing lunch.

“August!” Mum beams brightly and holds her arms out for me to hug her hello. I unclip Darcy’s lead and put the dish of stuffing down on the counter. “Oh,” Mum says, dropping her arms and blinking at the pink haired beauty behind me. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Bea says, waving a hand. “These uh…these are for you.” She steps forward holding the bouquet out to my mother, who still looks back with shellshock.

“You brought a girl to dinner?” Mum turns to me with an excited smile and the rest of the room falls silent, everyone else seeming to realise we have company.

“No, Mum, not like—”

“Bea!” Joanie beams, practically skipping over and wrapping her into a hug. Jesus, the promise of nice coffee really does change my sister’s personality. The flowers Mum failed to relieve Bea of get squished between them and the sound of the cellophane crinkling is loud. “You’re here with my brother?” Joanie pulls what can only bedescribed as a grimace and I have an uncontrollable urge to pinch her, so I do. “Hey!” Joanie yelps, jumping as I pinch the sensitive skin of her underarm. “Fuck off, dickhead.”

“Language!” Mum scolds, gesturing at Bea in a way that says don’t embarrass us in front of the guest.

Joanie pokes her tongue out at me, and I return it because our sibling dispute resolution got stuck somewhere in the late 2000s. Mum finally takes the flowers from Bea, ushering her further into the kitchen and making her sit at the table.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” Mum says, unwrapping the flowers and snipping the ends off the stems. “August didn’t tell us he’d be bringing someone.”

Bea blanches. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought you knew I’d be coming.”

“Ah, don’t worry about that,” my dad pipes up from where he’d been watching our entrance from the corner of the room. “Pip cooks enough to feed the whole of Port Doone, one more at the table will be welcome.”

Mum rolls her eyes but smiles at my dad as Joanie takes over arranging the flowers in a vase. They look alike, my mum and sister. They have dark, wavy hair but whereas my fifty-eight-year-old mother is still free of greys, Joanie has two thick sections that have gone completely grey, framing her face. She dyed them for a while but now it’s like her signature look. I’ve always thought it looks seriously cool, but I would never tell her that.

“Well, thank you for letting me join you,” Bea says sweetly. She perches on her chair, back straight and hands on her lap under thetable, looking uncomfortable, and I find myself wanting to help her relax.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask Bea, quietly.

The bright smile she gives me does something weird to my chest. “That would be great, thank you.”

“Wine?”

The smile drops and she swallows hard, shaking her head and it makes me smile, actually fucking smile. “I think I’ll stick to soft drinks today.”

“Good call,” I agree with a smirk that feels out of place but kind of good. “We’ve got Coke, lemonade, or this fancy watermelon shit Mum likes.”

“Hey,” Mum whines. “My watermelon coolers are refreshing, not shit. And stop swearing in front of our nice guest, she’ll think you’re all heathens.”

“Fancy watermelon shit sounds great,” Bea says with amusement.

Mum starts toward the fridge, but I get there first. “I’ve got it,” I say rather gruffly, and she gives me a look like she knows something I don’t. Then she shares that look with Joanie, who smiles wickedly and I’m not sure I like what’s happening.

The front door slams shut as I’m passing Bea her drink, complete with ice and a little slice of lime because I was feeling fancy, not because I thought it would make her smile. Connor comes in holding a plate with a huge cake on top. He stops in the doorway, staring at Bea, the cake wobbling slightly, and puffs a breath upward to dislodge his ridiculous hair from his eyes.

“Oh hey, my boss is here,” he says.

“Yeah, so be on your best behaviour,” I grumble at him.

“Psst,” he scoffs. “It’s my day off.”

“Hi, Con,” Bea greets the kid with a warm affection.

“Hey, BB.” He grins at her.