Page 51 of Hot in the City
He rested beside her for a moment, then pointed up to the very edge of a white painted balcony and a roofline, visible up ahead through the trees. “There. That house is for sale. I went past this morning on my run.”
“And you thought it would be a good investment?”
He leaned into her side and pulled her close. “Yes, but I thought maybe a holiday home for us. It has three bedrooms, plenty of space for kids.”
“Oh!” Sinead clapped her hands together. A wide grin stretched across her gorgeous face. “Let’s see it.”
When they reached the house the agent was waiting, letting them inside for a look around.
Sinead entered first and he waved her through the hallway to the open plan living area. Recycled wooden floorboards gave the place a warm, lived-in feeling, while the sofas and artworks on the walls had a casual, coastal vibe. It felt homey. That’s what grabbed him initially, and then...
“The view!” Sinead spun around and took in the almost three-sixty views through floor to ceiling windows. “Oh, it’s stunning.”
The beach was below them, waves crashing on the shore and the light hitting the water in such a way, it glowed. But she was the one who was stunning. Because she lit up, her inner beauty shining for all to see.
He turned and watched her then, walking the perimeter of the room, drifting around the space like she was floating, running her fingers lightly over the loveseat by the central windows.
“I can see us here. You and me. The babies. It will be magical.”
He kissed the soft curve of her cheek. Whispered so only she could hear, “You’re magical. I can’t believe you’re mine.”
Then he opened the balcony doors and led her outside, holding tight to her hand. She gasped, taking in the full view, the freshness of the air, their position in the treetops. It was like a world of their own.
And Gabriel could see it too, stretching out in front of them. A bright future. Everything he’d never known he’d always wanted.
Friday I'm In Love
A short and sweet story
Cassandra O’Leary
One Friday in November
“Spank my arse and call me Easy. Is it time?” Jean’s startling comment broke the silence in their grey office cubicle.
Megan’s mouth popped open. But she shouldn’t have been surprised. Jean was often on the wrong side of the line marked ‘suitable for work’.
Megan sighed and shook her head at Jean, checking the time on her computer screen as she finished up coding a promotional widget on the online pyjama store’s website. Yes, she’d made the animated characters dance in their pyjamas. It was super cute.
She glanced at the clock again. Nearly time. Two minutes until ten o’clock.
Jean rushed over towards the office window, skidding on the highly polished floorboards despite her sensible Hush Puppies with their thick rubber soles. She smoothed back her wild and woolly white locks, flowing free past her shoulders like a mad old hippy, which about summed up Megan’s colleague.
“Alright, keep your hair on. He’s not back from the gym yet.” Megan took a step towards the large windows, casting her eye out the window overlooking bustling and funky Flinders Lane. The cafe crawlers were out in force for their mid-morning hit, but no sign of him. “I told you, he’s never back before ten. Grab a cuppa.”
“No need. I came prepared.” Jean lifted her oversized travel mug full of tea.
With a weary head shake, Megan resigned herself to having an audience for her own dodgy behaviour. Spying. What sort of a crazy woman had she become? Apparently, the sort who liked to watch big, strapping hunks of Japanese-Aussie beefcake as a side dish to her morning coffee, all from the safety of her office across the road.
All perfectly normal for any twenty-something woman with a healthy dose of hormones but who apparently couldn’t get a date to save her life. Not even with a spunky, tattooed ambulance driver who’d accidentally run into her car in the hospital car park last weekend.
The Ambo had called her ‘sweetie’. She’d thought a sympathy date was in order. He’d looked down on her five-foot-one inch self, her barely-there curves, eyes roving over her sneakers, baggy jeans and her Pokémon t-shirt. Her face had been naked of makeup, no trace of her usual jet-black liquid eyeliner and no jewellery, not even her diamond stud nose-ring. Her trademark straight and shiny black hair, raked back in a ponytail. She’d looked about fourteen. There were reasons. Like visiting her grandmother and wanting to look respectable. There had been no date.
But today respectable wasn’t on the cards. She wore a short red mini dress covered in a delicious strawberry print, knee high pirate boots and enough silver bangles to jingle whenever she walked. Hair, straight, black and swishy. Makeup, on point. Game on.
As per usual, she picked up the little tin watering can on the window ledge, which had always reminded her of Aladdin’s magic lamp. She gave it a sneaky rub, making a wish, then tipped the can slightly so the water sloshed out the long spout. The office plants needed a dousing, so they’d survive the stinking hot weekend coming up. Her fingertips smoothed along the edge of a curling leaf.
She’d skip the after work drinks tonight in case she got as frazzled. Best to cut out early and get a seat on an air-conditioned train and get back to her flat above the dry cleaners in Nowheresville, outskirts of Melbourne. At least she could sink into a cool bath with a cooler beer. Unwind, de-stress.
