Page 37 of What Did I Miss?

‘Settle, caveman.’ Makayla grabs his arm before he causes a scene. ‘They’re waltzing, not grinding on one another. At least it gets her off our case for a while. Isn’t that what you want?’

Beau appears beside Makayla and asks, ‘Would you like to dance?’

Makayla laughs until she’s nudged by Warren, who’s her new pimp, apparently.

As soon as Makayla’s stiletto hits the parquet flooring, the five-piece band starts playing ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’. She sinks into Beau’s arms and they sway along to the slinky ballad. A disco ball twinkles above, showering them with dots of light. It’s a shame the moment is about to be ruined.

‘I’m sorry to ask, but I need a favour. As you saw, Trish is having a hard time accepting that Warren and I are over. He suggested we act as though you and I like each other. Like , like each other, in order to get her off our backs. Would you be okay with pretending for the night?’

‘Pretend? Sure.’ He smiles like he’s privy to an inside joke.

Heat licks at her cheeks. It’s impossible for her to not think about him every waking second, excruciating to be in the same room without touching him, and unbearable getting through weekends without seeing him. The only person pretending here is Makayla.

As they sway, she soaks in every feature of his face, committing it to memory.

The tiny nick on his left eyebrow that makes him look mysterious, his forest of eyelashes that frame the bluest of blue eyes, and those pillowy lips she can taste even when he’s not around.

He’s achingly gorgeous. But he’s so much more than that.

Without warning, he spins and dips her.

The singer climbs to the chorus, bringing the house down, and the trumpet seduces her with its brassy notes. Beau’s mouth hovers above Makayla’s. They lock eyes, his gaze searing. She swallows her anticipation, pulse soaring.

The music screeches as it cuts out and ugly lights flash on. Beau pulls her upright. Who ruined their perfect moment?

Speakers squeal as Trish bosses the musicians off the stage to give her speech. ‘Makayla,’ she hisses into the microphone. ‘Why don’t you join me?’

‘No, no, I’m all good.’ Makayla doesn’t want the spotlight.

Beau comes to her rescue, sliding his arms around her waist from the back and cuddling into her. He plants a light kiss on her neck, setting her body ablaze with goosebumps.

Trish frowns into the crowd before continuing with the formalities, which involve a lengthy slide show.

Makayla has the photos memorised. It starts with Trish and Eddie cutting their heart-shaped wedding cake, followed by them honeymooning in Queensland.

Next is their first home, the one she still lives in, then it skips a few years.

The photo of Trish barefoot and pregnant is missing.

So is the one of her cradling her son in the hospital that everyone always laughs at because Warren had an enormous head.

Trish mixes things up with a photo that hasn’t made the cut before.

It’s baby-faced Makayla and Warren in their school uniforms. Mr Too-Cool-For-School has a filthy cigarette dangling out of his mouth.

Sixteen-year-old Makayla, in her rebellious short skirt that landed her a suspension, grins at the camera, blissfully unaware she’d end up marrying that chump.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says to Beau, as more embarrassing photos are unearthed. ‘I’ll put a stop to this.’

‘It looks like Warren’s dealing with it.’

Warren crouches over a laptop, yanking all the cords to end the show. He storms onto the stage to have words with his mother.

‘You’re making everyone uncomfortable,’ Trish says, chastising him like he’s a ten-year-old.

Warren pries the microphone from her hand and clears his throat. Is he making a speech? Trish begs him to give one every year, and he’s never conceded. What could be so important he’s willing to overcome his fear of public speaking?

‘Hey, everyone. Thanks for coming. Youse are good people to keep showing up for Ma. The free bevvies probably help.’

His cousin, who’s rocked up in shorts and a T-shirt, thrusts his schooner into the air.

‘If Pa was alive, my parents would be celebrating forty years together. Since that’s a big deal, I’ve got a special present for Ma. Diamond, come up here, babe.’

Makayla covers her mouth, but not before ‘Holy Moly! He’s going to propose’ slips out. How clever of him to do it in front of family and friends, where etiquette will force Trish to fake delight.

Diamond appears beside Warren, concealing something in her hands. Their nervous glances at one another blow the engagement theory out of the water. The couple count down, and on three Diamond holds up a onesie with I love Nana printed across the front.

‘We’re having a baby!’ Warren screams at the applauding crowd.

Trish stumbles backwards, clutching her chest. It’s a good thing Dr Richard is here; she’s primed for a heart attack.

Heads turn to catch Makayla’s reaction. She’s motionless, retreating to a place within where no one can touch her. She barely registers the argument whirring around her.

‘How dare you announce that in front of Makayla? After what you did to her, I’m ashamed to be your mother.’

‘You promised you wouldn’t take sides. If anything, you should take mine. I messed up, but I said sorry a million times. She wouldn’t have a bar of me. What was I supposed to do?’

‘You shouldn’t have done it in the first place, then none of this would be happening. You barely know that woman.’ Trish loses her manners and points viciously at Diamond.

‘ That woman is having your grandchild. Why can’t you be happy for us? Makayla’s fine with me moving on. She told me earlier she was over it. Tell her, Makayla.’

The sound of her name pierces the force field and drags her back to reality.

As Warren’s announcement replays in her mind, anger brews, spreading throughout her body.

That bastard hasn’t learned a damn thing.

Well, he can kiss Gertie goodbye forever.

It’s the only way he’ll understand what it’s like to lose something he loves more than anything.

Makayla forces eye contact. ‘Fuck you.’

She fights her way out of Beau’s arms and races through the emergency exit. Standing beside an overflowing dumpster, every emotion she’s bottled up violently pours out. Smooth jazz floats outside and a warm hand touches her shoulder.

‘Hey, I get it. It’s hard when an ex moves on,’ Beau says.

‘It’s not about that,’ she half laughs, half cries. It’d be simpler if that was the problem. ‘Thank you for coming to this shitshow. I have to go.’

Beau is a step behind her.

‘Stop! Don’t follow me. Not now, not ever. I can’t give you whatever it is you want, and even if I could, trust me, you don’t want this. I’m not worth it.’

‘Makayla.’ He cocks his head to one side. ‘Let me be here for you, as a friend.’

Beau catches Makayla as she collapses. She needs him, and he doesn’t hesitate, sitting in the gutter in his fancy suit and cradling her. She curls into his chest, staining his white shirt with mascara. He strokes her hair, letting her be messy until she’s so numb the icy wind becomes unnoticeable.