Following the sound of their voices, I walk through the dining area and enter the lounge room. A three-seater lounge sits along the wall with a perfect view of the garden. Two recliners sit either side in a matching cream and floral print with a coffee table filled with biscuits, sandwiches and a pot of tea in the centre of the room.

“On’ya Mum.” I snag a sandwich and a handful of biscuits. “You made my favourites.”

“Yes, Jesse dear,” she placates me as if I were a child before continuing her conversation with Kinsley.

I’m definitely the third wheel here today. I look around, trying to find something that needs doing. “Do you have some lightbulbs that need replacing or anything?” I ask.

Kinsley looks at me, holding in a giggle. Mum on the other hand tilts her head in confusion. It reminds me of Lou-loo which makes me laugh — out loud unlike Kinsley.

“I just wanted to see if you had any jobs that needed a man’s touch whilst I was here.”

It was Mum’s turn to laugh now. “A man’s touch?” She raises her brows. “Jesse, when was the last time I had a man around?”

“Well, after Dad, there was Mr Re—”

Kinsley’s cheeks are flushed in embarrassment and she almost chokes on her sandwich at the mention of Mum with a man

“That’s enough,” she announces, waving her hand at me. “There will be none of that, just eat your biscuits and let us girls catch up.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Kinsley

“Can you drop me to the library on your way to work in the morning?” I call out to Jesse from the bathroom. “I want to surprise Soph; I’ve unintentionally been avoiding her.”

“You do suck at this friendship thing.” He winks as he rounds the door and sits on the bench next to the sink.

“What’s the go with you two anyway? She’s never here, did that double date lead to any solo ones?”

“Maybe if you were a better friend, you would know the gossip.” Jesse wiggles his brows and I know he’s deflecting off of the topic. Interesting. How much do I want to push him on this? I decide to stay silent, giving him the option to elaborate. Through the mirror we make eye contact and he’s pouting. Such a baby.

“Come on, spit it out.” Turning to face him, I give him all of my attention. “Do we need to sit down with a tub of ice cream and spoons to have some kind of deep and meaningful here?”

That gets a laugh out of him. “I thought we were the beer and pizza type?”

“You’re deflecting again!”

“Give me a break, I can’t take you seriously with that.” He points at the facemask I just applied. “Stuff on your face.”