Page 22 of Love, Just In

His eyes move over my face before returning to mine. ‘Josie, you do know that women can get pregnant into their mid-forties, right?’

My stomach caves inward.

But I’m going to be gone by then, like those women in the articles.

Like Aunt Susie, whose life was snatched away by breast cancer when she was only twenty-nine. My grandma was older when she succumbed to it, but she was first diagnosed in her twenties.

‘Don’t get medical on me,’ I say gruffly, which wins me a cute chuckle and distracts me from my thoughts.

Zac’s fingers stroke up and down the stem of his wine glass.

‘How did you meet Meghan?’ I ask, having now shaken off whatever reservations kept me silent earlier.I genuinely want to like the girl Zac’s seeing, even though her vibe towards me at work has been arctic. ‘Wait, let me guess. You go to the same gym, thought her ass looked good in yoga pants, and so you slid onto the treadmill beside hers, andboom—cue candy-eyes and sweaty hot bodies. Must be love.’

His lips curl up. ‘I think that’s your fantasy porn scenario, not mine. I met Meg at the beach and asked for her number. Don’t you know I’m a wax-head now?’

I lean back in my chair and give an impressed nod. But at this point, I’m having trouble focusing because all my attention has travelled to where Zac’s ankle is resting lightly against mine beneath the table.

‘Meghan thinks she’s your girlfriend,’ I say.

His brow pinches. ‘She said that?’

‘Yup.’ My lips pop on the word, and I make a dramatic, you’re-in-trouble-now grimace.

‘I should probably have a talk to her about that.’

I find myself forcing a smile off my face. ‘Well, she does have the kind of alliterative name that makes a woman instantly hot. You know, Marilyn Monroe … Bridget Bardot … Meghan Mackay.’

Josie Jamesonpops into my head unsolicited, and I stuff that one back in the box. I must be tipsier than I thought.

A noncommittal smile passes over Zac’s lips, and I wonder why he hasn’t moved his leg yet. It tingles against mine, heavy and warm. I was already feeling his cold distance from me beginning to thaw, but this returnto physical contact is another level entirely. It makes my heart beat a little harder against my ribs.

‘So, it’s just a casual thing with Meghan, then?’ I clarify, refocusing. ‘Because now that we’re almost twenty-eight, I feel like I need to know if you intend to activate The Back-Up Plan or not.’

Holy shit, I really have had too much of the red stuff.

I search Zac’s face for signs he remembers the deal we made over a Friday night beer-clink when we were in second-year uni. With slightly breathless voices, we agreed that if we hit the age of twenty-eight and were still single, we’d marry each other. He’d wanted to go with thirty, but I’d argued that we’d need to be married for two years before having a baby, and I wasn’t having my first baby any later than thirty. It was the first time I genuinely imagined—and in some detail—what it would be like to taste Zac’s watermelon-pink lips. Two days after that, he met Tara Amiri.

‘Ah, yes, I forgot … I’m your fallback guy.’ His cheeks ignite. ‘Although you’re going to be a big-time newsreader down in Sydney, aren’t you? So, it’ll never work.’

‘I can’t have both?’ My stomach tenses as his brows lift.

‘What, you’re going to move up here permanently?’

I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. It’s entirely the fault of whoever invented shiraz. I need to change the subject.

‘There’s alwaysDah-viiide,’ I say in a mock-serious tone. ‘He seems keen.’

‘Now, now, Josephine, you can’t have all the boys.’ Zac’s lower leg nudges mine where they’re still touching before he suddenly shifts away.

‘What about Lindsay?’ I suppress the awkwardness of the question by jumping up to dig out another bottle of shiraz, since Davide drank a third of this one.

‘My housemate Lindsay?’ Zac asks, looking confused.

‘He gave me his number today. When I came by your house.’

I brave a glance back at Zac, finding his lips parted. ‘That guy is un-fucking-believable.’

‘What?’ My voice is all high as I slide back into my chair and top up our glasses. ‘Is it weird if he calls me?’

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