‘Morning,’ Cole said.
Oscar flinched guiltily. ‘Just waiting for the shower,’ he said, pointing a thumb at the door of the downstairs bathroom.
The truth was, he’d been listening to the shower because he knew Felicity was inside. He could hear the water drizzling off her fingertips and the faint slapping of her bare feet.
‘How’d you sleep?’ Cole jogged on the spot, as though his body would melt if given even a second of rest.
‘Like a baby,’ Oscar said, which was true. In his experience, babies didn’t sleep at all, and he’d been awake most of the night, knowing Felicity was in the other downstairs bedroom. He’d imagined her sneaking in at midnight. Slipping into bed with him while Isla snored, oblivious. Climbing atop him and leaning down for a kiss, her red hair a curtain on either side of his head.
‘You want a coffee?’ Cole asked.
‘Sounds good,’ Oscar said.
‘White with one?’
‘That’s it.’
As Cole was turning away, Oscar said quietly, ‘You ready for tonight?’
Cole just grunted, not meeting Oscar’s eye. Oscar told himself that was a yes, in the language of masculine fitness junkies.
Soon after, the bathroom door opened. Oscar’s smile froze as he found himself face to face—well, face to chest—with Dom, who was naked except for a towel around his waist. He smiled, revealing the slight gap between his front teeth. ‘Oscar. How’d you pull up this morning?’
‘Not bad.’ Oscar leaned sideways, checking that Felicity wasn’t also in the bathroom. ‘You?’
‘I’m okay. That fourth drink might have been a mistake, though.’
‘Really? I’d have thought a big fella like you could handle it—though you are light-footed.’
‘Light-footed?’ Dom’s eyes seemed to radiate superiority and disgust, as though Oscar was naked in front of him, not the other way around.
‘Graceful,’ Oscar said. ‘You don’t sound as big as you are, walking around.’
‘You’re a funny man, Oscar.’ Dom squeezed past, wafting aftershave and steaming skin, and walked to his room, his feet making exaggerated thumps.
‘Learned it from your wife,’ Oscar muttered under his breath. He told himself he’d imagined the menace in Dom’s voice. Dom didn’t know anything. Did he?
When Oscar got to the dining room, the breakfast table was heaped with toast, eggs, spinach, bacon and mushrooms. Isla was already there, dark glasses on, a cup of tea in one hand. Cole had put Oscar’s coffee next to her. Without looking at her, Oscar moved the coffee and sat next to Clementine. ‘Do you and Cole eat like this all the time?’ he asked her, gesturing at the feast on the table.
She nibbled at a mushroom. ‘I’m usually a bit more careful. But yeah, he spoils me.’
Oscar wondered what ‘careful’ meant for her, if mushrooms on dry toast were risky.
‘I used to hate cooking,’ Cole called from the kitchen, where he was loading hash browns onto paper towels. ‘I used to fantasise about having enough money that I’d never need to do it again. But now it’s my favourite part of the day.’
‘What changed?’ Isla spooned spinach and eggs onto her toast, neglecting the bacon. She’d recently become vegetarian as part of her ongoing campaign to make Oscar’s life difficult.
‘We started getting one of those meal delivery services,’ Clementine said. ‘You know, where they send you the recipes and a box of all the ingredients each week?’
‘Ooh, maybe I should get Oscar on to that,’ said Isla.
Oscar said nothing, stunned by how easily she could turn any conversation into an opportunity to belittle him.
Felicity walked into the dining area, still towelling off her beautiful red hair. ‘Morning, all!’
A chorus of grunts and mumbles.
‘Yikes,’ she said. ‘We’ve already reached that stage of the holiday, have we?’
Clementine laughed. ‘Yup. Yesterday we regressed to high school, this morning we’ve made it all the way back to Neanderthal.’
Isla’s face lit up. ‘Hey, I just read something interesting about Neanderthals.’
‘Here we go.’ Oscar sighed, his exhausted brain letting part of his inner monologue escape.
On a sitcom, everyone would have ignored it; in real life, an appalled silence fell. Everyone became suddenly fascinated by their food, avoiding eye contact with one another.
Clementine was the first to speak. ‘What did you read, Isla?’
‘Never mind. It’s not really a suitable story for mealtimes.’ Isla stood up, half her breakfast still on her plate.
‘I have a strong stomach,’ Clementine offered, but Isla was gone.
Oscar could feel everyone glaring at him. He stared down into the immaculate latte Cole had made, his face reddening.
‘So,’ Felicity said finally, ‘anyone up for a bushwalk?’