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‘I’ve got plenty of material,’ Jaz says. ‘But I’m not telling you about it. Do your own research.’

‘I will,’ Chandice says defiantly.

‘Don’t think you’re doing it here,’ Mum says, lighting the hob.

‘As if. I’ll go to their place.’

‘Good. Give me and your dad a night to ourselves. We like to do our own research sometimes too, you know.’

Jaz and I laugh, but Chandice makes a gagging motion. ‘Mum! No need. Oldies having sex ain’t right.’

Mum’s eyes widen. ‘Oldies? We’re mid-fifties! People still have sex in their eighties. Put that in your steamy romance.’

‘I don’t reckon it’ll be that steamy,’ I say. ‘You’re a bigger geek than Dad.’

‘Mum, Casey called me a geek,’ Chandice says.

I roll my eyes. The inner fifteen-year-old’s out and proud today.

‘Well, she’s got a point, love. I can’t see you out doing much’ – Mum does air quotes – ‘research.’

Chandice purses her lips. ‘Well, excuse me for not being a cool, tattooed lesbian like your favourite daughter over there, or not sleeping with a different bird every night like this one.’ Chandice jabs her finger in Jaz’s direction.

‘We are pretty cool,’ I say, laughing.

‘Totally,’ Jaz says.

Mum points the spatula at Jaz and me. ‘Stop winding her up, you two.’ The afternoon sunlight filtering through the kitchen window highlights the fine lines on her face and makes her blue eyes shine. She steps behind Chandice and wraps her arms around her in a hug, pale skin and blonde hair pressed against Chandice’s brown skin and black hair. There’s something about the contrast of them together that always makes my chest swell, and I love that Chandice and I are such a solid mix of both our parents, despite external appearances. ‘Don’t you go changing,’ Mum says to her. ‘We love you exactly the way you are. You write whatever you want.’ Mum kisses her temple and turns back to the hob, tossing bacon and black pudding into the frying pan, filling the kitchen with the delicious smell of sweet fat and cooking meat.

Chandice gives me a smarmy smile. ‘Where’s your fancy piece, then?’

Mum swats her across the arm with a tea towel. ‘She’s got a name.’

‘Eva is at her parents’,’ I say.

‘Our place not good enough for her?’ Chandice says.

Jaz smirks and I suck in my cheeks, trying not to bite. I can say it, but I don’t like it when others do. ‘I didn’t invite her because she’s busy with her parents.’ I cradle my mug and gaze out the window to the back garden where purple dahlias bloom along the fence. ‘But I’m glad to be here.’

‘I’m not liking the sound of all this wedding stuff, Casey,’ Mum says, raising her voice over the sizzle. ‘Jazzy’s filled me in.’

I raise my eyebrows at Jaz.

‘What?’ Jaz says. ‘You were struggling to breathe. I was worried about you getting into that overwhelmed state you get into sometimes.’

I push my fingers against my temple, the throb from earlier returning. ‘I don’t know what to do, or even how to have the conversation with her.’

Mum turns to me. ‘You just say, “I’m sorry, Eva, I can’t marry you. I love you and we were good in the beginning”’ – she’s waving the spatula to match the cadence of her words, like she’s a conductor – ‘“but we’ve grown apart and getting married isn’t going to fix that”.’

Jaz angles her head towards Mum. ‘See. Easy.’

Chandice’s brows shoot up. ‘Oh, hello, wedding of the year’s off, is it?’

I groan and drag my hands over my face. ‘I don’t know.’

Mum scoops vegetables into a separate frying pan. ‘Well, you’re going to have to tell her something soon, Casey. You don’t want to break it to her on the bleedin’ wedding day.’

‘I just … I feel bad.’ I pause. ‘And stupid for letting it go on this long.’