Page 78 of The Side Road
‘I didn’t do that this time,’ Holly said. ‘Because I was tired.’
‘Of course,’ Mia said. ‘Busy on the inside making a baby.’
‘That’s right,’ Holly agreed. ‘Anyway, when he got home from work, he said he didn’t feel like roast chicken, and he ordered a pizza.’
‘You can stay as long as you like.’ Mia patted Holly’s hand.
Again, Oliver topped up Mia’s wine because her glass was almost empty. She appreciated his attentiveness and thought he might be reading her mind.
‘I’m going to go,’ Oliver said. When both Holly and Mia objected, Oliver insisted. ‘You two need to talk.’ This was true.
Mia accompanied Oliver to the front door. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
‘Next time,’ she said. ‘Or maybe you can get away early one morning for breakfast. That’s code for sex – but I’m also offering food, a warm bed, and a handsome Labrador.’
He smiled at her. ‘I can make that happen.’
As she watched him leave, she studied his walk, which was more like a saunter. The comfortable way he got on the bike, relaxed but incredibly sexy. The way he rode, with one hand casually resting on his thigh. Leaning on the door frame, she sighed, then turned around and headed back inside.
Joining Holly in the kitchen, she said. ‘I care, I really do, but my underwear is killing me. I’ll be back in a minute.’
Underwear off, sweatpants on, Mia could finally breathe. Live and learn, she thought. On their next ride, she would wear a loose-fitting garment made from a natural fibre. Something soft on the skin, like mercerised cotton or merino wool.
In the kitchen, Holly was picking at the salad. Mia put the fish in the oven. ‘Fifteen minutes,’ she said.
‘There can’t have been many nuns living here,’ Holly said as she studied a piece of carrot. ‘It’s not that big. Perhaps they bunked in together. Do you think they were lesbians?’
‘I wouldn’t like to speculate.’
After tearing the end from a breadstick, Holly said. ‘Can I ask, how’s the sex going?’
Mia hesitated. ‘You know I’m not one to kiss and tell, and it’s early days, but it’s hard to put into words.’
‘Great. Bad. Painful. Boring. Weird,’ Holly offered, finishing the bread.
Mia looked at Snood. ‘Transcending.’
Holly paused. ‘You’re having transcending sex with your motorbike boy?’
‘We need to stop calling him a boy.’
25
BILLY GOAT
Mia and Hollysettled into their shared living arrangement. As the days passed, the temperature dropped, and the crisp mornings had them practising yoga indoors. At the beginning of the week, Mia made a winter minestrone that lasted for two days. Inspired, Holly followed this with a chicken noodle broth. Both agreed that soup for supper was the best thing in the world. Coming home to find a friend in the kitchen was nearly as good.
Their topics of conversation included music, self-help podcasts, and new release TV shows. They talked about seasonal colours and finding a sustainable work–life balance that would see them through to retirement. (This included never returning to the city, always having a dog, and prioritising morning yoga). After reading the local newspaper, Mia liked to discuss what was happening in the region. Holly preferred global politics. Dating and travel were not on their agenda, but new recipes and Snood’s behaviour in the dog park received equal analysis.
Holly read books on pregnancy, which she discussed withMia, while Mia read bestselling novels in popular genres. Describing the more far-fetched plots, they giggled like songbirds. On many evenings, a comfortable silence settled over them, punctuated only by the clinking of knitting needles and the low hum of the oven.
One evening, as they were finishing bowls of French onion soup, Mia said, ‘I’m scared I’m going to blow up this thing with Oliver.’
Holly paused and looked at her. ‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t believe my luck. He might be the best man I’ve ever met. I don’t expect it to last.’
It was not the first time she had felt like this. Having a painful childhood made her cynical about the existence of good things. Sometimes, a great deal of care had to be taken not to blow up the good luck that came her way.
