Page 42 of What Did I Miss?

Tilly is finally down for the night. Since her bunny has gone missing, she’ll only nod off in Makayla’s arms. After transferring the sleeping bomb into the cot, Makayla sneaks into the kitchen to raid the chocolate stash and steal a glass of wine.

Babysitting perks. All she finds is half a bottle of rosé.

Good enough. She takes a swig and winces. Pass. Too sweet for her liking.

Makayla’s and Cece’s fridges couldn’t be any more different. Makayla covers hers with bills she ignores until they’re overdue. Whereas Cece decorates every inch of the surface with happy snaps, invitations, cards and something unexpected – The No Regrets List!

Makayla frantically rips it off, sending a bunch of mismatched magnets and photos crashing onto the tiles.

‘Is everything okay?’ Beau calls from the living room.

‘Yep. Be there soon.’

Makayla races out the back door, setting off a sensor light and a neighbour’s yappy Pomeranian.

Thankfully, there aren’t any incriminating details on the list, such as her name.

If it caught Beau’s eye earlier, hopefully he’ll just think Cece and Jimmy are experimenting with alternative couples’ therapy. No harm done.

Before tossing it in the bin, she casts an eye over it and chuckles. So many of these activities went awry. Okay, all of them. So far, she’s completed half the items. They didn’t exactly play out the way she’d imagined, but at least she gave it a go.

Looking at the remaining tasks (tattoo, pole dancing, travel, holiday hook-up, another language and skinny dipping), Makayla’s competitive side awakens.

Pouring all her energy back into the list is exactly what she needs.

Who doesn’t love a victorious sprint to the finish line?

Sure beats sitting around feeling sorry for herself.

With her birthday less than a month away, she needs to get cracking. Makayla whips out her phone and types a message to Quinn.

Where did you get your tatt done? It’s time.

I’ll take you to the best artist in town. Next week?

Perfect.

I’ll see what she’s got available and let you know.

Excitement flutters in her chest. One down and onto the next – pole dancing. Being the good accountability coach she is, Cece has booked them into a beginners’ class. It’s marked on her calendar with love hearts, like they’re going on a cute date. Done. Next!

Makayla closes her eyes, considering the other four items. ‘Speak in another language’ pops into her mind.

If she was more organised, she would have enrolled in those night classes at the community centre and become fluent in French.

Ain’t got time for that now. She downloads Duolingo onto her phone and signs up for Indonesian, figuring it will be handy when she attends Rongo’s wedding.

She’ll start the lessons tomorrow and reach advanced status in no time.

Makayla mentally high-fives herself for her progress.

As for the other three items, they’ll all have to happen in Bali.

An unpleasant sensation swirls inside Makayla’s stomach at the thought of hooking up with anyone other than Beau.

She’d like it to be him, but how is that possible when he’s being so standoffish?

Makayla goes back inside the house, determined to change that.

Instead of treating her like a wounded animal, he needs to see her playful side again.

Makayla wriggles out of her pants and saunters into the living room, wearing nothing but her Nirvana tee, sensible underwear and a cheeky grin. Beau does a double-take as she sits down beside him and strokes her bare legs.

He drapes a blanket across her. ‘I don’t want you catching a cold,’ he explains.

In front of them on the coffee table, Beau has set up the dullest board game ever – Scrabble. Her clit is shrivelling by the second.

‘Maybe later.’ Makayla inches closer. ‘How about we start with This or That?’ It worked a treat when they first met at a bar. ‘Blondes or brunettes?’

‘Both.’ He glances at her two-toned hair, which she’s owning more each day. Full blonde mode is imminent. ‘ Rocky I or Rocky II ?’ he asks flatly.

‘Neither.’ Despite being a sports teacher, she hates those kinds of movies. ‘Giving or receiving?’ She raises her eyebrows.

He removes his arm from the back of the couch and shifts further away. On purpose? Surely not. This lumpy old two-seater is rather uncomfortable.

‘Blue or green?’ he asks, skipping her question.

‘As in, the colour?’

‘That’s right. Which one do you prefer?’

What kind of question is that? He was so suave the first time they did this. Maybe he’s a little rusty.

‘Green,’ she answers. ‘Whipped cream or melted chocolate?’ Makayla bites her lip, enjoying his breathy laugh as he contemplates his response.

After an agonising pause, ‘Whipped cream,’ crawls out.

Bingo. ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’

Before reporting for babysitting duties, they’d agreed Beau would cook dinner and Makayla would bring dessert. After he created a decadent lasagne from scratch, Makayla pretended she forgot to bring something sweet. He’d be horrified to learn she eats cream out of a can.

‘I saw some in the fridge. I’ll go get it and maybe we can play a different game,’ Makayla says, raring to get her freak on.

Beau leaps to his feet. ‘Did you hear that?’

‘Hear what?’ The only noise is the humming of the heater.

‘Tilly. I think she’s crying.’ His voice jitters.

She glances at the baby monitor. The toddler is out like a light.

‘Nope. She’s asleep. Let me get—’

‘I definitely heard something. I’ll go check.’ He bolts towards the nursery.

As Makayla makes her way to the kitchen, it occurs to her that Beau might be uncomfortable having adult time with a child in the house.

Should Makayla be worried too? Will they scar Tilly for life if she wakes up to their wild noises?

Parents mustn’t stress about such things; how else are siblings made?

Once Beau sees that Tilly’s sound asleep, he’ll calm down. If not, she can think of a few ways to help him relax.

Beau beats her back to the lounge room and she finds him laying a sheet across the couch.

‘Great idea. We don’t want to make a mess.’ Makayla shakes the can in preparation.

‘I’m knackered, actually. I might hit the hay,’ he says through a yawn.

‘Cece said it’s okay if we sleep in her room.’ She might feel differently if she knew they were bringing dairy products into it. ‘It’s a king-sized bed.’

‘That’s okay. You have it. I’ll do the night feed, and at least this way, I won’t wake you.’ Beau stretches on the couch, then rolls away with the blanket pulled up to his chin. ‘Night!’ he calls over his shoulder.

‘Sweet dreams,’ she mumbles to the back of his head.

Makayla scampers to the bedroom, trying to make sense of what happened.

She squirts whipped cream into her mouth.

The foam is as light as air, but it doesn’t reach any of the sweet spots Beau would have.

She takes another hit. And another. She drains the can, chasing a sugar high.

What else is there to do when faced with a nagging question she doesn’t want to know the answer to – has Beau lost interest?

It’s the last night of babysitting duties and Makayla’s only hope of getting things back on track with Beau. She has to woo him tonight. He slept in this morning and had a day nap, which means he can’t pull the old ‘I’m tired’ card. It’s business time.

‘Remember when you said if there was anything I needed, just ask?’ Makayla stands at the entrance to the living room in a fluffy robe covered in red hearts that she borrowed from Cece’s wardrobe.

‘Yes …’ Beau squints at the ensemble.

‘I’ve got a lot of tension in my body and I was wondering if you’d be kind enough to give me a massage?’

She drops the robe, revealing a bra and underwear set. It isn’t fancy lingerie, but the elastic is still intact, and it’s hole-free. It’ll do. Besides, it’s what’s underneath that counts.

‘Umm … umm …’ Beau glances around the room like he’s looking for an emergency exit.

What does she have to do to get this man’s attention? Walk around butt-naked?

‘If it’ll help,’ he concedes.

‘Come with me. I’ve set up the room.’ Makayla turns on her heels, charged with excitement about getting things between them back to how they used to be.

A waterbed that survived Jimmy’s bachelor days takes up most of the main bedroom.

He might’ve won the battle getting that hideous thing in here, but Cece won the war with her styling choices.

The quilt cover and endless number of cushions are fifty shades of pink.

It’s like sleeping in a dollhouse. Makayla turns off the light, and a dozen strawberry-scented tea light candles calm the space.

Makayla crawls across the bed, as seductive as one can be when it wobbles like jelly. On all fours, she throws a cheeky wink over her shoulder.

‘Lay down,’ Beau says with an authoritative tone that gets Makayla’s heart racing.

‘Yes, sir!’ She stretches like a cat with her bottom thrust into the air, before laying on her front.

The lights come back on and Beau snuffs out all the candles.

‘Fire hazard,’ he says, killing the ambience.

Makayla sighs and points to a bottle of massage oil she found when snooping through the bathroom drawers.

‘Feel free to use a Swedish accent,’ she half jokes, hoping to ease him into the character of Bjorn – a gentle giant who wants to bring Makayla to the point of no return with his firm touch. A little role-playing might lighten the mood.

Beau slaps the oil onto her back like a child making patty cakes with sand. Bjorn would never. He then shifts to feather-light strokes that make it hard to tell if he’s even touching her. The greasy oil cools as it puddles on the curve of her spine.

‘Harder,’ she breathes, to no avail; his fingertips are barely on her. ‘Harder,’ she fake moans. Air could do a better job. ‘Harder!’ If anything, she’s more tense than before they started.

Beau kneads so deep into her skin she winces, feeling it in her bones.

‘Not that hard. Maybe try my legs.’

Makayla parts them, creating an obvious highway. Her eyes roll back in her head, but not in a state of ecstasy like she wants. He isn’t getting the hint, and no amount of panting can move him along from her ankles.

‘Let’s do the front.’ She rolls over, giving it one last shot.

Draping her arms above her head, she pops a knee and arches her back. That’s how the women on Instagram pose in their thirst traps. Beau’s crinkled forehead says otherwise.

‘My thighs are pretty sore.’ She pitter patters her fingers along one.

‘Are they?’ Beau grins, resting his palm on the inside of her leg.

Now we’re talking.

Makayla closes her eyes, willing his hand to move.

Her skin lights up with goosebumps from the simple stroke of his thumb.

Hugged by the soft cotton sheets beneath, she sinks into the waterbed’s embrace.

Under Beau’s warm touch, her body tingles from head to toe.

Tension builds between her legs and anticipation grows.

If only he’d inch his fingers a little higher and put her out of her misery.

Their breathing syncs as they stare at one another, and desire dances across his lips.

He wants this as much as she does. She can feel it.

Desperate to move things along, she reaches for his hand to guide him there, but he pulls it away.

‘I … ahh … have to go to the bathroom,’ he announces, leaving the room.

Makayla’s mind tries to catch up with her body, which aches for him. She’s offering herself up on a platter, for goodness’ sake. Why won’t he take a bite?

She stretches her long limbs, toying with the idea that Beau got a little too excited and jumped the gun. Her ego swells. As long as he finishes the job, she’s okay with that.

Beau returns, holding up his phone like he’s speaking to someone on camera and throws a towel at Makayla.

‘Yes, Cece. She’s right here.’ He passes her the mobile.

Makayla covers herself and sits up as straight as the moving waterbed will allow. Cece has the worst timing. They only spoke an hour ago. When will she trust they have everything under control?

To get this over and done with, Makayla nods and grins as Cece feverishly recounts the same details she shared earlier. Beau’s disappeared, who knows where? Cece squeals as Jimmy comes up behind her to dot her neck with kisses. Take the hint.

‘I’m sorry. Listen to me going on and on. What did you want to talk about?’ Cece asks.

‘Huh? You called me.’

‘No. Beau called and said you needed to chat. Is everything okay? Is Tilly—’

‘He called you ?’

‘See, they’re all fine,’ Jimmy says off-camera. ‘Come back to bed, foxy mama.’ The call ends as he goes in for a passionate kiss.

Someone’s getting lucky tonight, and it ain’t Makayla. She storms into the lounge room and, as suspected, finds Beau curled up under a blanket, fake snoring his head off.

‘What the hell is going on?’ She plops on top of him to pin him to the couch until she gets answers.

‘I’m wrecked. That’s all.’ Beau forces a yawn.

‘Cut the crap, Shepherd. It’s not even eight o’clock. You’re not that old. Look, it’s obvious you’re not into me anymore. Be a man and say it.’

He sits up, pulling her into his lap, and she doesn’t resist. She can’t; massage oil glues them together. She’s also rather fond of his big arms.

‘That’s not true, and you know it,’ he says, pulling his serious face.

‘What I know is two weeks ago, you and I would have broken that waterbed, and now you’re pretending to be asleep. I was married for years, buddy, I invented that move.’

‘I know you don’t want to hear this, Makayla, but I’m giving you space to deal with things. That’s what you need.’

‘No. What I need is for you to lie on top of me.’ She caresses the hairs at the nape of his neck.

‘God, you’re the most persistent woman I’ve ever met.

’ He exhales through a smile. ‘And unbelievably hot.’ His gaze burns through her.

‘That’s why it kills me to say this. It’s not happening.

At least, not this weekend. You can’t skip parts of the grieving process.

I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’s something you have to let yourself feel.

’ He stares into her eyes, like he sees her more clearly than anyone ever has.

‘Is that the only reason you don’t want to sleep with me?’ She trembles in his arms.

‘Of course. What else would there be?’

His demeanour is calm as always. He might be telling the truth, or he could be covering his tracks, not wanting to admit that if kids aren’t in her future, then she won’t be in his.

‘I don’t know. Just double checking.’ Makayla sinks further into the embrace, unsure how many hugs they have left.