Page 27 of Indigo

“I’ve got coffee,” Pax calls from the backdoor moments later, walking into the kitchen with a bag of coffee grounds, a carton of milk and a packet of my favourite cream biscuits.

“Yessss,” Paisley whispers, grabbing the bag and then rummaging through another box to find the coffee machine. When she does, she pulls it out, wipes it down with a damp dishcloth and immediately gets to work setting it up, her back to the both of us.

“When were you going to tell me you’re my neighbour?” I ask Pax playfully, leaning on the counter and looking up at him.

He winks at me and reaches out, his finger tracing along my cheek before moving a curl that’s fallen out of my messy bun behind my ear. “Now?” he replies, grinning like a naughty kid that just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

I huff out a laugh and shake my head. As I attempt to move past him to get to the sink, he leans down, places a gentle kiss on my forehead, and whispers, “I’ll be back later.”

I clear my throat as he pulls back and glance guiltily over at Paisley, who is now watching us, her eyes wide.

“Okay,” I reply. “No worries.”

“You.” He points to Paisley as if they’re old friends, which, in a way, I guess they are. They’ve known each other longer than Pax and I have, considering Paisley and Jagger have been friends since kindergarten. “Take care of my girl while I’m gone, yeah?”

She raises her eyebrows at him in surprise. “You got it.”

Paisley and I both remain silent as he walks out of the room and once the sound of the front door closing behind him echoes through the house, she looks at me, a devilish grin on her face. “You weren’t exaggerating, were you?”

Before I get a chance to respond, the smell of sage fills the room, and I know Mum’s here without even needing to turn my head.

Sure enough, seconds later she walks into the kitchen, a lit smudge stick in one hand and her drill in the other.

“Mumma’s here.” She grins and presses the drill.

The woman always did know how to make an entrance.

???

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were dating Josh,” I whine, finishing my third coffee while sitting cross-legged on my kitchen counter.

I pass Paisley back her phone, taking one last look at the photo of her and Josh together, still displayed on the screen as she takes it.

He doesn’t look a whole lot different than I remember. Same black, shaggy hair, same crazy blue eyes and deep olive completion. The smile on his face as he holds Paisley in the photo though? That’s new.

I didn’t know him well, considering he was in Pax’s year at school, but I saw him around plenty growing up. He’s always been a nice guy. Pax liked him too, which was odd, considering Pax never really spoke to any of his classmates.

“Wait,” I say, recalling a conversation Mum and I had a while back. “Didn’t Renee and Josh get married a couple of years back?”

Renee Bishop and her best friend, Claire Golding, have been on Paisley’s shit list since primary school, when the two of them stole her Sea Monkeys and tossed them in the garbage bin behind the main building of our school.

It was a sad day.

“Yep,” Mum answers for her from the floor where she’s placing plates in their designated cupboard. Paisley and I gave up trying to help her about an hour ago and left her to potter around and organise my kitchen how she sees fit.

“First of all, we weren’t exactly talking much when him and I got together, and I didn’t feel as though it was the time to tell you when you were calling me and telling me all about your crazy fuck of an ex-boyfriend a few months ago,” Paisley says, rolling her eyes dramatically from beside me on the counter.

She, too, thought it best to get out of Mum's way and seek higher ground.

“Fair,” I reply, seeing her point.

“And yes. They got married, but it lasted all of five months before he realised what a mole she is, and they separated. They’re officially divorced now, and we’ve been together for almost a year. Satisfied?”

Hardly. The guilt of not knowing what was going on in her life hits me like a tonne of bricks, but instead of saying that, I nod. “Yep.”

“Where are all your tea towels, Indie?” Mum asks, her head buried in a rather large box on the floor.

“I’ve only got two. You’ve already put them away.”

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