Page 85 of So Steady

“Mum wasn’t much of a mum. Dad wasn’t much of a dad. They didn’t give it much thought. In fairness, they didn’t look after themselves any better than they looked after me.”

“Didtheyhave scurvy?”

He gave a funny little laugh. “Nah. It was 90s. Everyone in the clubhouse was into Coronas. I guess the lemon slices saved ‘em.”

Nicole shuddered, then felt ashamed. She’d drunkenly eaten more than two dozen nuggets, who was she to judge anyone? “I guess I’m glad you didn’t all have scurvy.”

Noah smiled. “They’re not together. My parents. They split when I was fifteen.”

“I’m sorry.”

He inclined his head, though it was clear he didn’t consider the event a tragedy. He didn’t seem eager to discuss it further, and for once, Nicole understood. There were few things she hated, like talking about her runaway mother. She pointed to the traffic lights. “It’s the next left from here. Down by the water.”

A heat warmed her right thigh. Noah had put his hand on her leg. She glanced at him, but his eyes were on the road. Nicole wanted to cry then, not because she was sad, but because the hot weight of his hands soothed her in ways that didn’t make sense. They travelled the rest of the way in silence, Noah’s palm on her leg. Nicole watched the world whir past, the quiet in her brain so luxurious, she was disappointed when they finally got to The Lighthouse. Noah pulled into the car park and turned off the engine. They stayed sitting, watching the sunset stain the ocean like a painter’s daydream.

Noah’s hand tightened on her thigh. “Stunning.”

“I love the ocean.”

“Not what I meant.”

Nicole ducked her head. His compliments were still a little jarring, especially since she wasn’t wearing makeup. “The painting over your kitchen table is as beautiful as the view here.”

“Nah.”

“I mean it!”

Noah’s smile was kindly. “Thanks, baby, but there’s no chance. Art can’t ever come close to life. It’s too bright and big and you can feel the energy pulsing through every part of it. All I can do is reflect it, talk about how magic it is. A good painting’s a sunbeam in a box; the real world is the whole fucking sun.”

Nicole didn’t think she’d ever heard him say something so heartfelt. Or long. She stared out at the ocean and realised he was right, the world was alive, shifting and melting in a way a painting wasn’t. His were beautiful though. The most beautiful she’d ever seen.

“Ready for food?” she asked.

“Yup.” But he made no move to undo his seatbelt, instead staring at the restaurant, a big glowing white Tudor building. “We’re a long way from KFC.”

She smiled. “We are, but that’s not a bad thing. Want to go in?”

“Do you?”

There was a little too much emphasis on his words for it to be a throwaway question. He was asking something else, about her, about them.

Nicole smiled. “Yes. I want to have dinner with you in The Lighthouse.”

He raised their joined hands to his mouth, but he didn’t kiss the back of her palm. He kissed the daisy chain her dad had tattooed into her wrist when she was eighteen. Nicole’s heart blew out to twice its normal size. “You like it?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shook his head, gave her hand a final squeeze and opened the driver-side door. Nicole watched him go, wondering what it was that he kept trying and failing to say.

She’d told Noah he wouldn’t look out of place, but once they were inside it was clear her Nostradamus skills were a little off. The hostess, Debbie, gave him the kind of side-eye that said she’d already punched the first two zeroes of the emergency number into her phone.

“You here for work, Nicole?” she asked.

Nicole squirmed a little, knowing the easiest thing was to say yes. Debbie knew Aaron. Answering her question meant saying a lot more than she’d intended. She looked at Noah, his expression blank, and her first thought was that he wouldn’t care if she said ‘yes.’ Then she remembered how he’d looked in the van, how rude Mrs Harris had been, how he hadn’t chosen to grow up in a bikie club, or be hugely tall or get scurvy. She took his hand, that warm, rough lifeline that had brought her to Adelaide. “Here for fun, actually. Can we please have a table for two?”

Debbie’s face was smooth as cream. “Sure.”

But Nicole was sure she was mentally adding ‘if you insist.’

“I’m sorry,” she said when they were seated. “Debbie shouldn’t be so snotty to you.”

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