Beth stared. “Wejuststarted dating.”
“So? You need somewhere to stay; I’ve got a place. And now Sal won’t be there. Not that you’d be sleeping in the spare room. As your landlord, I’m gonna insist you sleep in my bed and pay me in sex.”
Beth didn’t smile.
“Baby, don’t stress about it. Seriously, Derek won’t give a shit. We can head to mine tomorrow morning and—”
“Byron! Whether two-time Brownlow medallist Derek Hardiman is okay with me crashing at your place isn’t the point!”
“So… what’s the point?”
Beth’s hand rose. Byron grabbed it. “Whatever it is, stop mauling your lip, baby.”
“What?”
“This.” He demonstrated what she’d being doing.
“Oh, yeah. I do that.”
“I know.” Byron’s head had begun to ache again. “Is this about Sal? Are they… I dunno… already fucking for money or something?”
Beth stared at him. “You said that pretty calmly.”
“Is that what you want to talk to me about?”
“No.” Beth looked down at her ginger ale. “Byron…”
“Don’t. Just say it.Please,” he added, trying to sound like less of a cock.
She sighed. “Mrs J offered me another housesitting position. An eight-month one, which is amazing.”
“Okay, so you don’t have to crash at mine. Where is it?”
She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, then released it. “Perth.”
“Perth, as in…?”
“Western Australia.”
“So, you can’t go or…?”
Beth’s hand slipped from his and snapped to her mouth like a magnet. She stared at him as though frozen, her eyes begging him to understand.
Byron’s brain whirred. “You’re thinking of taking a gig in Perth? For eight months?”
She nodded, a tiny movement of her otherwise stiff body.
“And it starts, when?”
She mumbled something.
“I can’t hear you.”
She flinched and he felt like an asshole. He swallowed. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
Beth met his gaze squarely, a spark of anger in her brown eyes. “It starts as soon as I can get there.”
Fuck. Fucking hell. Byron’s hands burned. All at once he was back in the freezing rain, his knee loose inside his leg, mud running into his mouth.