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“OMG.” Peyton kicks off her shoes and runs for the stove. She grabs the wooden spoon fromthe worktop.

Please taste the same.

She basks in the tomato flavour as it hits her tongue. The meat is tender; the addition of butter beans gives it a texture she adores. The deliciously rich, slow cooked dish is just—

“How is it?”

“Heaven.” She goes back for more. “Is thisall for me?”

“Well, you and whoever else comes tonight.”

Peyton eyes the coffee table in the centre of the room; she completely bypassed the five bags of chips, the hot wings, the pizza, the chicken sliders, and the numerous dips.

“What’s going on in here?” she asks.

“Jesse organised it, not me. So, you can blame him.” Her dad holds his hands up. “I’m just in charge of the stew.”

“Thanks for the backup, Andy.” Jesse strolls into the kitchen with three bags of groceries.Andy?Since when does anyone call her dad, Andy.

“I see the two of you met.” Peyton observes.

“Oh yeah, we’ve been texting all week.” Jesse lifts the groceries onto the worktop. The clang of the bottles indicates alcohol.“Surprise.”

“You’ve been texting all week?” She finds the news surprising considering her dad takes five working days to reply to her texts. She isn’t entirely sure they still make the phone he currently has; it’s an iPhone with a physical button for the home screen, and not thelast model.

“Jess, can you pass the salt,” her dad pipes up. Jesse does a weird flip with the shaker and passes it to her dad like he’s trying to attempt atrick shot.

What is going on here.

“Are we having company tonight?”

“I hope so.” Jesse grins. “If not, the three of us are going to be pretty full by theend of it.”

“And intoxicated,” her dad adds.

“Who’s coming?”Peyton asks.

“Erm... the usual Friday night gang. I invited those two girls you keep mentioning from work. Kara and Emma?”Jesse says.

Peyton’s eyes widen. “How?”

“I went in two days ago and asked them. Easy. They seemed keen.”

“Oh god.” She slumpson the sofa.

“What?” Jesse laughs.

“They’re going to think I’m such a loser sending in my ‘big brother’ to ask them to my birthday party.”

“Incorrect.” He starts to load the fridge with numerous bottles of tequila, obviously. “I think... and I’m not 100% certain on this, but I think they might’ve assumed I’m yourboyfriend.”

Her dad almost chokes. “Now, that’s funny.”

“Great.” Peyton sits with her head in her hands. “So, aside from having to come out again to my new work colleagues, is there anyone else coming?”

She can feel the lump in her throat; her stomach churns. A part of her wants him to say Cleo. Would she have a change of heart if she knew it was Peyton’s birthday?

“Nope.” Jesse pours her something. She’s stopped asking. It’s always colourful and involves tequila. “Unless you want me to invite Marvin?”