Page 14 of What Did I Miss?

Cece wraps her arms around Makayla the second she arrives at her townhouse, squeezing like a boa constrictor. ‘Tell me everything about speed dating and don’t spare any details.’

Adhering to Makayla’s strangled request to let go, Cece leads the way down her hall, which is covered in calypso wallpaper and crooked watercolour artwork.

It’s like stumbling into an op shop built on wonky stilts.

Cece must be the only person under thirty who owns a telephone bench with an operational rotary dial phone.

Beside it are mountains of decade-old Cosmopolitan magazines she flicks through while gasbagging to telemarketers.

In the living room, Makayla bypasses the claw chair that swallows its victims and opts instead for the canary-yellow couch that’s as musty as a granny flat.

She dangles a packet of mini-cupcakes in Cece’s face, hopeful the plastic-pink icing and sprinkles will distract her during the abridged version of what happened last night.

There’ll be no mention of Beau Shepherd, that’s for sure.

Cece waves her hand, dismissing the snack and fixating on Makayla, who stuffs one after another into her mouth. She’s determined to eat away her confusion about Beau.

The first time they slept together, she was floating afterwards, finally understanding why movie characters spontaneously break into song. This time’s different. Despite the incredible, albeit brief, release, she spent the morning pacing her lounge room, and clocked ten thousand steps before 9 am.

Cece brings out a clipboard covered in unicorn stickers and a fluffy pen.

‘Let me see.’ She runs her finger down a piece of paper. ‘Speed dating … There it is. Tick!’

The dopamine hit reaches Makayla instantly, quickly followed by the realisation that she’s only completed three items, leaving nine to go before her birthday in a little less than three months.

She needs to step up the pace. Tomorrow, she decides, she’ll meet with Jeffrey and make it clear she’s ready for more responsibility.

She’ll be on top of the career ladder in no time.

Makayla runs Cece through her speed-dating horror stories, including the guy who asked to take a photo of her feet and another who hinted at illegally owning a monkey.

‘Did you hit it off with anyone?’ Cece’s tone is suggestive, like she knows the answer already. Impossible.

Heat crawls up Makayla’s neck, giving her away.

‘Who’s the lucky guy?’ Cece’s practically frothing.

‘Um, his name is Orlando.’ That’s the only one she remembers, for no other reason than he was a dick. ‘Brown-ish hair? About yea high.’

Cece sits bolt upright. ‘Oh my gosh, did you sleep with Beau?’

‘What? How did you—’

‘It’s written all over your face.’

Makayla wipes at it, even though she meant it metaphorically.

‘I overheard him telling Rongo he was going, so I booked you in on the same night.’ Cece unsuccessfully hides a grin.

‘You’re diabolical.’ It wasn’t serendipity or any other woo-woo crap that brought them together – it was Cece, her accountability coach turned meddler. Makayla vows to keep a closer eye on Little Miss Sunshine.

‘I’ve been waiting for you to mention it. Why do you think I invited you over? I knew if I called, you’d lie. You’re shifty like that.’

Makayla’s mouth drops open. What’s wrong with keeping some things private?

Before she can give her friend the third degree, Cece’s fiancé barrels into the house.

Their daughter is napping in a three-wheeler pram, the type hyperathletic parents use to run with.

Through huffs and puffs, Jimmy says hello and wheels the baby over.

Tilly’s pillowy cheeks make Makayla want to smoosh her face up against them.

She won’t, though. She’s never held her.

Instead, Makayla comments, ‘Adorable’, which seems to be enough to stop the couple side-eyeing each other. They do that a lot when she comes over, which isn’t that often these days.

Jimmy must be hitting the pavement regularly because his usual cuddly self is lean, and there’s a hint of definition in his calves. Not everything has changed, though; he’s still in denial about his baldness, combing back the remaining strands of ginger.

‘Wedding shredding,’ he says in response to Makayla’s stare. ‘While you’re here, maybe we can go over some things. Flowers? Bridesmaid dresses?’

‘Another time!’ Cece snaps.

Jimmy’s vibrancy fades as he plonks onto a checkerboard ottoman.

They’re a civilised couple who don’t bicker in front of guests like Warren and Makayla used to.

As far as she’s aware, in fact, they never fight.

Something’s off, though. They normally squish together on a seat, rubbing noses and calling each other revolting nicknames like ‘Lovebug’.

Whatever is going on, it’s probably Jimmy’s fault; Cece has a heart of gold.

If Makayla finds out he’s done wrong by her friend, she’ll cut him off in a heartbeat.

‘Was it as good as last time?’ Cece circles back to Makayla and Beau.

‘Was what?’ Jimmy asks.

‘She went on a date with Beau.’

Jimmy ‘aah’s, like he knows all the ins and outs of Makayla’s personal life.

‘It wasn’t a date,’ Makayla relents.

‘Did you have dinner?’ Cece asks.

‘A few mouthfuls.’

‘Did he drive you home?’ Cece’s pitch goes up.

‘We were going in the same direction.’

‘Then you were all like “Beau, Beau, want to come in for a drink?” and he was like—’

‘Ha! You’re wrong, Detective Cece. He didn’t step foot inside my house.’

A thought reveals itself on Cece’s face before the words form. ‘Wait, did you do it in his car? How? You’re both so tall. Where did your legs go?’

‘High-five.’ Jimmy holds up his hand for ten excruciating seconds before tucking it under his thigh after Makayla leaves him hanging. ‘What?’ He shrugs at Cece. ‘At least someone’s getting some action around here.’

The room falls silent except for the clacking of the cuckoo clock that’s two hours behind.

How is it possible their sex life is nosediving before they’re married?

Especially those two. Makayla made the mistake of going away with them for a weekend once.

The walls were paper-thin; it sounded like gorilla mating season.

‘Who initiated it?’ Cece asks, not letting the conversation go.

‘Ummm …’

‘Makayla, it’s okay to have feelings.’

‘Ewww,’ she says, as though boys have cooties.

‘I don’t. It’s not like there were better options at that awful event.

Did you want me to slip into the back seat with the guy who shares a one-bedroom apartment with his sister?

Anyway, we agreed it won’t happen again.

I’m an adult. I can be casual about these things.

That’s the whole point of my to-do list.’

‘The No Regrets List.’ Cece turns the folder around, showing off her Canva creation with a fancy title and love hearts used for bullet points.

Cece and Jimmy excuse themselves to put Tilly to bed. Makayla rolls her eyes. Apparently transferring a sleeping baby is a two-person operation.

Makayla’s phone lights up with a text from Quinn and she winces. What if her aunty spotted her with Beau and made assumptions about their relationship status?

Are you free later? The club is having a committee meeting. I want to introduce you to the gang.

Can’t today. Cece needs me to babysit. Bummer.

If Cece can tell she’s been banging someone, Quinn will definitely know.

Which is fine – she’s allowed to have random hook-ups, after all – but any follow-up questions about two-night stands might jeopardise her chances of scoring the car.

Besides, she never actually agreed to the committee meetings.

Makayla demolishes the remaining cupcakes, trying to placate the knots in her stomach.

Forget kicking career goals; lying has become a full-time job.

Her phone dings with another text, which she assumes will be from Quinn, but it’s not.

Beau’s ears must be burning. Coughing out crumbs, she swipes through to a photo of him topless and dripping wet. He’s pulling a face that mimics pain.

My first training session with Agnes was brutal. She’s more of a drill sergeant than me.

Why does he have to send thirst traps? It’s an obvious attempt to lure her over to the dark side again.

Makayla leaves him on read. Cruel? Yes, but technically he didn’t ask a question, and therefore she’s not required to reply.

Them’s the rules. Beau mustn’t be aware of texting etiquette, however, because the eager beaver sends another within minutes. It’s a website link.

This place makes Hawaiian parmas. Should we continue our taste-testing tour next weekend?

Pineapple on a parmigiana is tempting ( and freakin’ genius ). One more bite wouldn’t hurt, would it? No, no, no. This has to stop.

However, since he’s now up to speed on asking questions in messages, it’d be rude not to respond.

Sorry. Have plans.

Makayla may be as blunt as an old pair of scissors, but at least this time she’s not lying.

Saturday is Trish’s birthday celebration.

It’ll take the entire weekend to recover from an afternoon with Warren.

Besides, being able to rub Gertie in his face will be more satisfying than tripling her daily carbohydrate intake with Beau.

The text exchange dies and guilt snakes its way around her lungs.

How is Beau feeling about last night? After accepting the damage was done, she didn’t rush to put her clothes on.

He kept her warm with cuddles and forehead kisses until midnight, when she finally sent him home.

She made no promises of parma pub crawls.

If his ego’s bruised, it’s Cece’s fault.

If she hadn’t interfered, there wouldn’t have been an encore.

Now it’s up to Makayla to make sure it doesn’t happen again.