Page 43 of The Wedding Forecast

Mac takes the book back and reads the message. He smiles.

‘It has been fun hanging out,’ he says, eyes open wide and innocent. I feel like a vein in my forehead might be pulsing.

‘Go to bed,’ I say to Hayley. ‘You really need sleep.’

Hayley hugs me goodnight and leaves, and I wonder if she’s wondering why Mac is still lingering in my room. I am wondering the same thing. Or not. But I am not just an open door, an open bed, to walk in and out of. I have standards. Despite the whole men’s bathroom and hammock situation.

‘So,’ I say.

‘So,’ he says. ‘I’m looking forward to reading your book.’

‘Don’t read it,’ I say. ‘It’s terrible.’

I don’t really believe this, but I can’t stop myself saying it sometimes. I need to take the pressure off, lower expectations.

‘Is that your sales pitch?’ he says.

‘I mean, don’t feel obliged to read it.’

‘Why would I feel obliged?’ he says.

‘Because you feel bad that you’re making me sleep in this horrible bunk bed.’

‘Oh, I don’t feel bad about that,’ he says.

‘All right, off you go then, you got your book signed. There’s nothing else here for you,’ I say, smiling.

He grins, turns, and pauses at the doorway. Then he turns back. He puts one hand on the top of the doorframe, on purpose, surely, because it makes his T-shirt ride up, exposing a strip of his stomach and he obviously knows he has a good stomach.

‘You’re welcome to share my bed,’ he says. ‘I mean, actually just share it, with no expectations that we would do anything.’

‘No thanks,’ I say, prissily.

I know I don’t have that level of self-control.

‘Okay,’ he says.

‘I’m fine here,’ I say.

‘All right. Good night, Anna.’

He shuts the door as he leaves, and I’m left in this tiny room, not even close to tired, jittery in fact. Thinking about him in that bed. His voice. His mouth, pressing against my skin.

I need to get him out of my head. I pick up my phone and write down what he said to me, out there. Let me show you what I was going to do before. I’m a writer after all, and maybe I could use that line one day.

12

I AM ABOUT to apply my tooth-whitening strips when I hear a quiet but insistent knocking.

I walk out of my room and see four faces at the glass of the front door. Mum, Dad, Bobbi and Jean. All wearing pyjamas.

‘What’s wrong?’ I say, opening the door.

‘Hello, darling,’ Mum says. ‘You wouldn’t believe it.’

‘Our house has a gas leak,’ Bobbi says.

‘What?’