Page 30 of Love, Just In

He smiles, blushing. ‘Yeah, she’s over the moon.’

I wait for more, but this time, there’s noshe’s not my girlfriendrebuttal, and no hint of sympathy for me—even though he must know how much I would have loved to have been chosen.

‘I’ve gotta go,’ I mutter, turning away from him. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘Wait.’ Zac steps forward, his silver badge glinting in a patch of afternoon sunlight peeking through the trees. ‘Want to grab dinner tonight? There’s a new Sri Lankan place I want to try.’

Disappointment surges through me over having already made plans. ‘That would’ve been great, but I’ve got something on tonight. I have a date. With Lindsay.’

His smile vanishes, and his throat flexes. ‘Oh, cool. Say hi from me.’

‘Will do.’ My phone pings from my handbag. It’s Gus asking where I am.The nerve!

After I farewell Zac and drag my feet towards the crosswalk, he calls out after me.

‘Jose?’ His gaze rests on mine for a moment. ‘Safe drive back to work.’

‘OK,’ I mumble.

He then unclips the radio mic from his shoulder and speaks into it as he strides back to the ambulance.

The Honeysuckle bar where I’m meeting Lindsay is only a five-minute walk from the news station, so I decide to leave my car at work overnight and Uber home. I have no intention of getting sloshed, but first dates make me nervous, and a bit of lubrication might help me relax. Plus, my mind is still unsettled after today’s hospital visit.

As I stroll along the windy street towards the muffled music and twinkling lights of the harbourside bar strip, I shrink internally at the offhand comment Natasha Harrington made in the lift as we were leaving.

‘There was a big death focus in that cancer story,’ she said while straightening her silk scarf.

‘Oh, you thought so? I think those were just the best grabs,’ I explained dumbly.

‘Getting the right grabs comes down to asking the right questions,’ she countered while setting her gaze on me through the mirror. ‘I’d like to see a bit more optimism next time.’

In a terminal cancer story?I thought as I escaped out to the ground floor ahead of her. Though I only halfmeant it. I’m not so dark a soul that I have no faith in hope.

Keep telling yourself that, Josie. How’s that persistent cancerous cough that you’re pretending isn’t there coming along?Storm clouds of panic begin to form inside my chest, but I force them away and up my pace, looking forward to relaxing my mind with a drink.

By the time I reach the buzzy outdoor bar that sits beneath a canopy of fairy lights, I’ve convinced myself of two things: (1) if I make an appointment to get my lungs checked, they could find suspicious spots on the X-ray, and I won’t be able to handle that, so it’s better if I don’t go, and (2) Natasha Harrington hates my guts and I’ve got a higher chance of finding out I’m a gnome than ever being put on that news desk by her.

Lindsay waves me over from a bar stool, looking eye-catchingly handsome in a striped button-down shirt and distressed jeans. He’s nursing what might be a bourbon and Coke, and pulls off his glasses as he gets up to hug me. He’s warm and smells freshly showered, but when his fingertips trace a line down my arm, I get a slightly strange shiver.

‘You look stunning,’ he says, dragging out a bar stool for me.

‘Thank you. I did a bunch of running around today for work, so I’m surprised to hear you say that.’ I give my messy ponytail a flick.

‘You’re a TV reporter, right?’ He slides me the drinks menu. I nod and order a glass of rosé. ‘You have a hotvoice for TV,’ he adds with a smirk, lifting his bourbon to his lips.

‘And a face for radio, right?’ I deadpan.

He laughs. ‘Hardly.’

The first wave of awkward silence crashes over us.

‘So, how’s the new beach pad?’ I ask, sipping my wine and letting it soothe my frayed nerves a little.

‘Oh, fuck, it’s awesome,’ he says, loudly enough for the bartender to turn his head, which is when I cotton on that Lindsay’s bourbon isn’t his first of the night.

‘I love having my own place,’ he continues. ‘No one in my personal space, criticising me about stuff and wanting me to be quiet because they’re on night shift, so apparently that means we all are. To be honest, I don’t even know what I was thinking, moving in with a housemate. I thought I might want the company, but in reality? Shit no.’

‘Zac says hi, by the way.’ I smile over my glass.

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