Page 58 of Head Over Wheels

Rôsine pressed the plunger and wordlessly poured out the coffee.

I lifted the cup to my nose and inhaled, more out of habit – Melbourne habit – than anything else, but a hint of caramel and something like burned toast tickled my nostrils and Rôsine’s brow furrowed.

‘It’s mixed with chicory. That’s our way of taking coffee. I hope you don’t mind.’

Taking a cautious sip, it was very bitter on the tongue at first, but I suspected I could get used to it.

‘Did you argue with Seb?’ Rôsine asked, watching me splutter over my hot drink as though she’d orchestrated the timing of that question.

‘Um,’ I said with a gulp.

‘I hope it wasn’t about visiting us?’

‘No!’ I assured her immediately. ‘Nothing like that. But I should probably admit that there’s… we’re not really together or anything.’ My words petered out on my tongue when I tried to explain what wewereif we weren’t together, especially since we’d spent the night snuggling.

Rôsine laughed, but there was a bleakness to it. ‘I understand. I don’t know if he’s ever been really together with someone before – only “sort of” or “maybe”. I didn’t expect anything else.’

If she was attempting to reassure me, it backfired. I’d been one of a few girlfriends – now former girlfriends – of Gaetano, but with Seb I was only one of his ‘maybes’. Wow, that hurt. I took another slurp of the scalding, bitter coffee because it fitted my sinking heart.

‘It’s difficult for him. I suppose that’s what happens when your father leaves and never sees you again. I hope one day he can commit, but they’ll have to be someone… very special,’ she said with an apologetic smile that looked more like a wince.

Before I could decide between a defensive response and an indignant one, the kitchen door banged open, making me jump and scald myself again. ‘Il se passe quelque chose avec Seb? Mamie m’a envoyé un message bizarre!’

On a gust of cool, damp air, a tall woman with tight curls and a baby on her hip swept into the room, approaching Rôsine with a kiss, while my brain tried to catch up, managing to understand the final two words of the French and something about Mamie and Seb.

Belatedly catching sight of me, the woman – undoubtedly Seb’s sister – performed a double take worthy of a slapstick film. ‘C’est vrai?’ she cried, close enough to a shriek for the baby to cover its ears with chubby fingers. Collecting herself, she gulped and opened her mouth to say something, although it took several seconds for anything to come out. ‘Mamie said Seb brought a pretty Australian girl home to meet the family and I was certain all I’d find was a big plastic kangaroo.’

‘We do have a blow-up kanga—’ Suddenly I was thinking about Matilda and I probably shouldn’t mention that in front of his family. ‘I’m Lori,’ I said instead, getting to my feet.

Her smile would have been lovely if she’d toned down the glee a notch. ‘Denise,’ she said, taking my hand and shaking it. ‘I’ve been waiting my whole life to torment him with this!’ she said, her voice high with something like wonder.

‘They’re notactuallytogether,’ Rôsine added with a twitch of her lips.

‘Of course not,’ Denise said with a snort. ‘She justaccidentallycame home with him!’ She burst out laughing and even Rôsine snickered.

‘Well,’ I began, but quickly gave up. EvenIstruggled to believe the chain of events that had brought me into this kitchen, with these two women.

Denise clasped my arm. ‘Sorry, dear, but it’s just so…Seb. It’s a constant mystery to him – and only him – why the women he’s interested in always leave. My brother is a disaster.’

‘He might be a disaster,’ I blurted out before I’d thoughtthrough the end of that sentence. ‘But he’s…’ mydisaster.‘A good disaster,’ I finished weakly, gulping when the two women just blinked at me in surprise.

Oops. So much for not getting their hopes up.Seb would just have to explain to them later and take the blame, since it seemed he had a history and this mess wasn’t all my fault after all.

I should have expected the absurdity of Mamie striding in at that moment, but she still surprised me when she peered through the door and said to Denise, ‘Oh good, you got my message. Give me the baby.’

She fussed over the child, with its curls and pudgy cheeks, until he – or she, I couldn’t be certain – wriggled to be put down. He mustn’t have been too young because he toddled confidently around the kitchen.

‘I love great-grandchildren,’ she said, pointedlynotlooking at me in such a way that she was definitely inwardly winking at me.

‘Mamie!’ Denise scolded. ‘You can’t say that – and we should know better!’ She turned to me, grasping my arm again as though she was already fond of me. ‘We’re a whole family of single mothers – and poor Seb!’

‘Single or not, women do the work – well!’ Mamie said, slapping her thigh for emphasis. ‘But why are you standing here talking? There isshitto clean!’

Seb

I woke up groggy and befuddled in the mid-morning, as though I’d rattled out part of my brain yesterday on the cobbles. But the lethargy felt deeper, in my bones somehow – a pleasant sort of contentment I couldn’t initially identify.

My jersey had disappeared, but I was still in my clean bike shorts from the podium. I had vague recollections of warm touch, hands on my skin and in my hair. I’d never had hallucinations after a tough race before, but would Lori—?Lori!

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