Page 7 of What Did I Miss?

Will the same thing happen in future relationships?

Beau pops into her mind and her body feels the warmth of his weight when he was on top of her in bed.

She shakes away the image of his caring eyes because Quinn’s right.

It’s too soon. What about all the things Makayla wants to do with her newfound freedom?

Skinny dipping and holiday hook-ups! It’s her life, goddamnit, and she’ll do whatever and whomever she likes.

Her birthday is only a little over three months away. This’ll be a piece of cake.

‘You might as well start the paperwork, because this baby is mine.’ Makayla nestles into the seat that’s as stiff as cardboard. But who cares how uncomfortable it is when the sight of her in it will make Warren cry? He’ll finally understand what it’s like to lose something he loves.

‘You’re a little cocky for someone who’s going on a date tonight.’

‘It’s not a date,’ Makayla whines.

What if Beau thinks it is? What if he keeps asking her out? Quinn will get wind of it – there are only four decent restaurants in Goldbrooke. Before she knows it, Warren will be the one doing victory laps in Gertie.

Over my dead body.

Quinn fiddles with the radio, changing it from one crackling song to the next. While she’s distracted, Makayla sends Beau a message.

Something came up. Can’t make it tonight. Sorry.

Makayla arrives at the pool before the sun rises.

She inhales the sticky air while waiting for Rongo, Cece and Imogen, the food technology teacher, to show up for the training session they begrudgingly agreed to.

Once again, they’ve joined forces to compete in the teachers’ relay at the annual fundraiser swimming carnival.

The Whiny Bunch always wins. For someone who’s plastered most of the time and can barely walk straight, Agnes sure is fast at freestyle.

Not this year, though. As a sport teacher, Makayla has a reputation to restore.

If that means waking up at the crack of dawn to practise a few times per week, so be it.

Makayla checks her phone, groaning at the I’m running late excuses piling in.

They’d better hurry; the place is swarming with people.

The hardcore swimmers are easy to spot as they torpedo along the fast lane, showing off their perfect butterfly technique.

Meanwhile, the hydro pool is more like a human soup as pensioners squeeze in.

Their gasbagging echoes throughout the space.

Makayla stares at the fifty-metre pool, longing to dive in. There’s something meditative about being submerged in water. And after what happened – or rather, didn’t happen – with Beau on the weekend, she needs to quieten her mind.

He responded to her text, asking when they could reschedule.

She didn’t reply. Too busy frowning at her screen, working out how to shake him off for good.

In order to inherit Gertie and get sweet, sweet revenge on Warren (who will die when he sees her in Quinn’s car), there needs to be minimal contact with Beau.

Sure, they’ll see each other at work, but that’s where it ends.

There will be no after-hours fraternising.

Not because they’ll end up in a relationship ( that’s ridiculous ), but it’d be best not to lead him on.

Rongo finally strolls in, towel slung over one shoulder and tattoos covering the other. His goofy grin is larger than usual.

‘Guess who’s getting married?’ He wraps his humongous arms around Makayla and pulls her into his hairy armpit.

Makayla straightens her body like a bowling pin. ‘Why?’

Rongo releases the hold to study her face. ‘Because I’m in love, silly. I believe this is the part where you’re supposed to say congratulations.’

‘Sorry. My bad. Congrats to you and Noa.’ Makayla plasters a smile across her face. Why would Rongo want to get married again? Did he learn nothing the first time? ‘Tell me more. Have you thought about when? Where?’

‘Bali! We’ve already booked it for the school holidays. It’ll be on the beach with our nearest and dearest. I’ll send you the deets shortly so you can book accommodation.’

‘Bali?’ Saliva drains from her mouth.

When Makayla added ‘Travel’ to her list, she imagined hiring a caravan and visiting iconic Australian attractions. Warren never saw the point, he told her to google them instead. She didn’t. The Big Pineapple is something one ought to experience in person.

The mere thought of going to Bali makes Makayla’s skin hot and itchy.

A fear of heights can translate into a fear of flying, something she discovered the last time she tried it, when she sprinted off the plane before take-off.

If she couldn’t pull it together for her own honeymoon, how’s she supposed to manage it for Rongo’s big day?

She pictures herself thirty thousand feet in the air, having an epic panic attack and being restrained by a flight attendant repeating, ‘Calm down, ma’am. ’

‘But – but – but I’ve heard horror stories about overseas weddings. Don’t they have tropical monsoons? Do you have a back-up plan? Maybe there’s still time to get out of it.’ Why can’t people get hitched within a drivable distance?

‘My family’s coming over from New Zealand, and Noa’s from Japan. It’s the perfect middle ground. Why not have a holiday and kill two birds with one stone, eh? What’s up with you? I know you’re going through some stuff, but you’re being kind of a downer.’

‘I’m not going through anything. I’m perfectly fine.’ Do people think she’s one of those bitter, divorced people? Because she’s not. ‘I just want to make sure you’ve really thought about this.’ Makayla dances around his ex-wife’s affair.

Rongo reads between the lines. ‘Just because Lacey did me dirty doesn’t mean Noa will. She’s my soulmate. I know it, and I want that happily ever after. Don’t you?’

Makayla winces. Once upon a time, she thought Warren was her one true love. Now she wants to shake sense into her old self. Soulmates are supposed to be there for better or worse, in sickness and in health. Warren sure as hell didn’t get that memo.

But it’s pointless trying to talk Rongo out of his nuptials; he’s a sucker for all that lovey-dovey crap. After all, his favourite movie is The Little Mermaid . What’s romantic about a sixteen-year-old giving up her voice for a man she hardly knows?

Speaking of strangers, Beau wanders over in shorts with his impressive rig on display. Makayla steps backwards and only just catches herself before she falls in. What’s he doing here? Did he plant a tracking device on her?

Rongo greets him with a handshake and a one-armed hug. ‘You made it, bro. Makayla, you remember the new guy?’

Makayla shrugs, and gives Beau an intense warning stare: Rongo doesn’t know, and if you breathe a word of it, I’ll push you into the pool.

‘I invited him to join our team.’ Rongo puffs out his chest like a superhero.

‘Why would you do that? We’re already full.’ She smiles the way parents do when they’re arguing in front of their kids.

‘C’mon, we both know Cece will flake on us. She hasn’t rocked up to a single training session. Don’t you want to win? Beau here trains for triathlons. Look at him. The man’s a tank.’

Indeed. Legs of steel and biceps that were strong enough to hold Makayla up in the shower.

The scene unfolds in her mind like a movie she’s watched a hundred times.

Cocooned in steam, warm water trickling over their bodies as he kissed her like he couldn’t get enough.

Her lips, neck, the spot just below her belly button … then he kept going down, down, down …

Beau winks at her, and her cheeks burn. Can he read her thoughts?

How is Makayla supposed to focus with him around? She’s about to tell him he can’t join the team when Imogen bounces over in a high-cut, itty bitty red bikini. In her practical black one-piece and a swimming cap, Makayla looks like a nun in comparison.

‘Hi there, handsome.’ Imogen stares at Beau like he’s a tall drink and she’s parched.

‘Mornin’,’ he replies, maintaining full eye contact.

Makayla waits for his gaze to dip lower on the buxom blonde, but instead it trails back to her, and she wishes it hadn’t.

They fill Imogen in about the team changes and she’s fully onboard, despite Makayla’s best efforts to convince them Cece will come through. A group text undoes all her good work.

I’m sooo sorry. Can’t make it. Tilly has been up all night teething, and I just got her to sleep. Exhausted is an understatement! Next time. Promise. Don’t be mad xxx

‘Let’s warm up.’ Imogen tugs Beau towards the steps.

‘Be there in a sec.’ He wriggles free. ‘Makayla, can we chat?’

It’s not like she has a choice. If she snubs him, the others will know something is going on. She puts on goggles and blinks at him through the green lenses. She probably looks like a bug. Who cares? This isn’t a beauty contest, and she doesn’t want to impress him.

‘I didn’t hear back from you about rescheduling our date. I hope everything’s okay. Were you sick?’

‘So it was a date?’ Her spine tingles and she doesn’t know why.

‘Sorry, I meant dinner. But it can be, if you’re interested. I think we’d get along well if we took some time to get to know each other.’

Her heart bangs hard against her ribs. ‘I’m not dating at the moment because …’ She wobbles her head, searching for the right words.

‘Bad break-up?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Broken hearts are brutal. These things take time to heal, don’t they?’ It sounds like he knows a thing or two about that. ‘How about I finish up training today and get out of your hair? Seems like there’s no room for me.’

A sliver of panic pinches her chest. Is he referring to a spot on the team or something else?

If so, does she want him to back off? Self-aware, handsome bachelors don’t come around often.

If she doesn’t jump on this opportunity, someone else will.

Is Gertie really worth it? Mustangs are high-maintenance, and Makayla’s never been good at keeping her Jeep clean.

McDonald’s fries from three years ago are mummifying in her back seat.

But what’s the alternative? Warren gets her aunty’s car.

He’s already moved on first. It’s not a competition, but if it was, he’d be winning, and that doesn’t sit well with her.

He deserves to suffer the way Makayla does … did. I’m okay now. Absolutely fine.

‘That’s probably for the best,’ she replies, confident any lingering feelings from their night together will pass soon.

After all, there’s no point diving headfirst into a relationship that won’t last the distance.