‘I’d really love it if you’d come to a few sessions with me so we can discuss where we went wrong. Even if the goal isn’t to get back together but simply because I need some closure.’

My heart quivered as I waited for his reply. It wasn’t true—I wasn’t looking for closure. I was looking for one of those miracles he’d mentioned and I hoped that if I managed to get him to visit Megan with me, maybe she’d be able to help me convince him that we had a future together after all.

Adrian took his time replying, then, ‘Let me think about it, okay?’

I nodded. ‘Thank you.’ That was a huge leap from the past few weeks of not answering my calls and barely even looking at me when our paths crossed at soccer.

Not wanting to overstay my welcome, I gathered the leftovers back into my basket.

Adrian beat me to the door and opened it for me, clearing his throat as we stepped into the waiting area. ‘See you soon, Ms Murphy. And, if you keep wearing good shoes like those,’ he said, glancing down at my sensible hidden support shoes, ‘you’ll never have serious foot problems.’

I gave him a look. Foot problems were the least of my worries!

Chapter 25

25

Ragged Point

‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’ I cringed at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I tugged on my short denim skirt. Thank God I had black leggings underneath.

‘You look fantastic,’ Jedda said as she adjusted a platinum blonde afro wig on her head. ‘And I say if you’ve got it, flaunt it.’

‘That’s the problem. I’m not sure I do have it.’

‘Oh, you do, trust me. Now hold still so I can finish your makeup.’

I puckered my lips so she could paint them with a bold, frosty pink. Like Jedda, I was also wearing a wig, although mine was brown and halfway down my back with a thick fringe that was already irritating my eyes.

‘Are you sure this T-shirt isn’t too tight?’ I asked.

She smiled at my black top with the word ‘Sexy’ scrawled in hot pink across my chest. ‘It’s supposed to be tight. But don’t forget you’ll also be wearing this, which should make you feel a little less self-conscious.’

The ‘this’ she held out to me was a magenta-coloured tracksuit jacket—the kind of thing Barbie had worn in the eighties.

Where on earth Jedda had got our outfits I had no idea, but somehow along with my monstrosities, she’d managed to find herself a pale blue parachute tracksuit, which she now wore proudly. We were going as Kath and Kim to the Aussie Icon Trivia Night and it’d be a tough call to decide which one of us looked more ridiculous.