Seven years ago
‘I’m never getting married.’
My statement sends a stunned stare to Zac’s face, his skin bronzed and glowing from the Bathurst summer sun. ‘Since when are you against marriage?’ he asks.
The bartender hands us our beers, and I bend forward to slurp up a bit of the froth that’s bulging from my glass. Zac wrinkles his brow at this behaviour.
‘I’m not against marriage,’ I clarify as we carry our drinks over to an outdoor table that’s built into a tree tangled with fairy lights. ‘I just don’t see it ever happening. I haven’t met anyone around here who’s decent, apart from Felix.’
Zac scoffs. ‘That fucking poser was the antithesis of decent. Plus, you don’t want to meet someone in Bathurst, do you? What happens after you graduate?’
‘The guy chases me to Sydney because he can’t live without me?’ I grin over the rim of my glass.
Zac’s chuckle sounds mildly irritated. ‘Whatever.’
‘What about you?’ I ask. ‘This could be the longest I’ve seen you go without a girlfriend. Are we finally having a drink named “loneliness” at the same time?’ I tease, referencing our favourite ‘Piano Man’ lyric.
‘How could I ever be lonely when I have you, sunbeam?’ he quips, tossing me a smug smile.
Zac sits back and runs his fingers through his Shawn Mendes–style curls, and I register that he looks pretty undeniably handsome tonight. His blue T-shirt that says ‘Don’t Meth With Me’ looks like it was made for his chest to model, and his sun-kissed skin is making the green flecks in his eyes take centre stage. I have no doubt that he could pick up any girl tonight without even needing to speak, but I don’t voice that because I’m greedy and don’t want to share him.
‘Is there an ideal time you would like to get married?’ I ask, continuing our conversation.
A bemused line hits Zac’s forehead. ‘Uh, when I meet the right person?’
‘That could be when you’re eighty.’
‘And?’
‘And? What about having kids?’
He raises a brow. ‘So, having children out of wedlock is unacceptable now? Have you joined a church group and not told me?’
‘Has anyone ever found God and not told everyone within a ten-kilometre radius?’
Zac chuckles and stretches a leg out beneath the table, his calf resting against mine. ‘What about you, then?’ he asks as our legs swing lightly back and forth together. ‘Assuming you change your mind on the no-marriage policy, when would you like to do it?’
‘To be honest, if I’m not married by the time I’m thirty, I’m gonna consider myself a failure.’
‘Jeez.’ The glint of the overhanging fairy lights dances in his eyes. ‘No pressure.’
‘I’m serious. I want kids, and there’s a cut-off time for that. You’re a guy, you’re lucky, you don’t have to worry about biological clocks.’
‘You’re twenty-one, you nutjob.’ He knocks my leg with his.
‘Yeah, well, that’s less than ten years until my cut-off, and in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly attract boyfriends easily.’
‘Oh, you attract them,’ Zac counters right away. ‘You just don’t want any of them, but trust me, they’re interested.’
His gaze falls to his beer, and a faint spiral of warmth coils up my spine.
‘I’m sure someone will marry you when you’re thirty if you’re that desperate,’ he eventually mumbles.
An idea crashes into my head, propelling me to sit forward. ‘Would you?’
Zac’s eyes jump to mine, expanding.
‘What I mean is,’ I continue quickly, ‘if you’re still single when you turn thirty, and so am I, would you marry me?’
Our gazes fuse tightly together, and a strange thickness invades my stomach. ‘If you really want me to,’ Zac replies, sounding a little hoarse.
‘Really?’
His throat flexes. ‘Why not? We get along great. We could have an awesome marriage.’
I blurt a thin laugh. ‘We really could.’
Except getting married would mean we’d have to …
With a will of their own, my eyes travel to Zac’s lips, which are plump against the beer glass he’s gulping from. Kissing Zac is almost too weird to even imagine, but if I closed my eyes and just went with the sensation, I’m sure it could feel amazing. I wonder if he’s the slow, savouring kind of guy who likes to brush lips in a soft, silky kiss, or if he’s the type who grabs a girl’s jaw and crushes his mouth to hers, capturing her tongue and biting at her bottom lip. With lips like his, neither option would suck.
‘Why are you staring at my mouth?’ Zac says throatily. I almost tip back on my stool. ‘I’m not. I’m just … I was wondering what your beer is like. Is it really hoppy?’
‘Try it.’ He holds out the schooner glass, and I take it and throw back a sip, even though I hate hoppy beers.
‘It’s all right,’ I say, trying not to gag. When I pass the glass back to him, the tips of our fingers rub together, and Zac’s cheeks darken a little.
‘So does this mean we’re engaged now?’ he asks. He’s back to smirking, but his voice sounds breathless.
‘Not yet, Romeo. When we’re thirty.’ I fling a hand up. ‘Actually, no. When we’re twenty-eight.’
‘Twenty-eight? Nine years is too long to wait to get into my pants, huh?’ The suggestive gleam in his eyes sends a flush of heat to my cheeks.
Now I’m the one who sounds a touch winded. ‘It’s because I want to be married for at least two years before having a baby, and I’m not having my first baby any later than thirty.’
Zac’s smile deepens. ‘You’ve really thought this through.’
I make a definite nod. ‘But only if we’re both still single. We can call it “The Back-Up Plan”.’ I lift my beer and tilt it out to him. ‘Deal?’
He clinks our glasses. ‘To “The Back-Up Plan”.’
I squirm through the nervous feeling spreading through my belly while Zac’s eyes graze over his phone, the corners of his mouth slightly turned up.
‘Oh, shit, someone just texted me about that costume party on Sunday,’ he says. ‘I still don’t have anything to wear.’
‘Want me to take you to the op shop tomorrow where I found my Cleopatra costume?’ I offer while performing the ‘Walk Like an Egyptian’ dance.
He smiles. ‘Thanks, future bride.’