Page 84 of That Island Feeling

‘Yeah, real shit.’ I shrug, pushing down the instant guilt that blooms in my gut, and open up the basket. ‘But these ones look perfect,’ I say, hoping to shift her focus to the delicious feast awaiting us. I want to share the sublime magic of oysters with her and forget the miserable details for once.

‘How many are in there?’ she asks.

‘About fifty or sixty-odd. Don’t worry, we don’t have to eat them all,’ I reassure her, noticing her bewildered expression. ‘Want to hear something cute?’

‘Always.’

‘Oysters love a cuddle.’

Her face lights up. ‘Naww, they do?’

‘They’re such sociable creatures that they stick together to reproduce and protect themselves from predators.’

‘Like Woof?’

‘More like big waves from boats.’

‘That is cute,’ she says, considering me thoughtfully. ‘You know a lot about this stuff, huh?’

‘A little, yes.’ I shrug, aware that I haven’t even scratched the surface. ‘So, are we shucking these here, or should we head into The Oyster House?’

‘We have a reservation?’ she asks.

‘If you count breaking and entering as a reservation, then sure,’ I quip.

‘I don’t think Bob would like that,’ she shoots back.

We lock gazes and the soft pink light shines in her ridiculously captivating amber eyes.

‘Well, good thing this isn’t his jurisdiction, honey,’ I drawl.

Chapter Thirty-four

ANDIE

Set right on the waterfront, The Oyster House is situated in a narrow brick building painted fairy floss pink – the same shade as the sky right now. It’s tinier than I imagined from Hazel’s story, but no less charming.

Instead of smashing through the glass door with a metal crowbar, Jack retrieves a key from his pocket, and I breathe a sigh of relief as he inserts it into the solid brass lock. Of course he has a key! But that also means a considerable amount of thought has gone into this date. It was one thing for him to organise a beach picnic at Pearl Cove to impress me when we hadn’t slept together yet, but why has he gone to so much effort now?

As we step inside, the brickwork from the exterior seamlessly transitions to the interior walls. Combined with the high ceilings, glittering chandeliers and banquette seating, it feels as though we’re in The Great Gatsby.

The last of the day’s light filters through the giant arch windows, casting the room in a romantic glow. Tables are arranged tightly, adorned with gleaming, long-stemmed wine glasses resembling small fishbowls, ceramic salt and pepper shakers and dainty banker’s lamps on brass stands with glass shades and pull-chain switches.

Jack flicks on the switch near the door, and the sconce lights dotted around the walls burst to life, enveloping the space in a warm, yellow hue and creating a cosy ambience that’s a stark contrast to the expansive open waters on the boat ride here.

‘Wow.’

‘Pretty impressive, right?’ Jack grins at me. ‘It was initially a kiosk until tourists started flocking to the river, then it became a restaurant with simple counter food and BYO wine, until it turned into what it is today. First established in 1922.’

‘Ah, the year of The Great Gatsby,’ I say, secretly pleased with myself for correctly identifying the era of the decor. That film was another of Mum’s favourites.

‘And how does Leo fare in that one?’ Jack asks.

‘Not any better, unfortunately,’ I say, aware that the twinkle in my eye betrays my serious tone.

‘That’s a real shame.’ Jack sticks out an exaggerated bottom lip. It’s soft and pouty and before I realise what I’m doing I spring forward and attach myself to it. Jack kisses me back, and our lips meet with urgency and a hint of citrus.

We stumble back into the corner of the table. I barely register the pain from the sharp corner ramming into my hip bone, but the impact causes a wine glass to crash down onto one of the plates.

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