Page 10 of The Quirky Vet

He blows out a breath, drumming his fingers on the table. "Any word from Erin?"

"No. Anything from Maisey?"

"Nope." He pops thep.

"Are you ready to talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about? We're over. She doesn't want to marry me."

"Did she say why?"

He tenses up, a wrinkle emerging between his eyebrows. Unlike me, Muir keeps things close to his chest—he doesn't open up until he really knows someone.

I think that explains why we didn't hit it off straight away. I've always been a blabbermouth, Muir's always been more reserved and cautious.

When I confided in him that my twin brother, Lleyton, had drowned the summer before starting year five, it broke through his defences, and it changed the dynamic between us. Even then, though, it still took him a few more months to let me in on the shitshow his mother and fucktard stepfather were putting him through.

We've been thick as thieves ever since, there for one another through all the ups and downs life—and our chaotic families—have thrown at us. So if Muir's hesitating to tell me what happened with Maisey, it's probably because he's still processing it.

"It's okay if you need more time," I assure him. "I'm still working shit out in my own head."

He relaxes a fraction. "Yeah. I do. Thanks… Are you okay?"

"As okay as can be expected." I take a few sips of coffee. "Part of me is still in shock, but…"

"Yeah?"

"Part of me isn't."

"Why's that?"

"Dunno. Something's been off between Erin and me for a while now. We had a massive blowup a few months ago, and even though we worked it out, things haven't been the same."

"Is this the fight about?—?"

"Moving to Brisbane," I finish for him. "It is. Asking a city girl to relocate to a small town is hard." She and I met when I was at a vet conference in Brisbane, and we did the long-distance thing for about six months before she relocated to Scuttlebutt. Outback living ain't for everyone. It was an uphill battle from the get-go.

But our issues ran deeper than just agreeing on where to live. With Erin, like with the handful of girls I dated before her, there's always been something…missing. I can't put my finger on what exactly, but it's this niggling feeling that's always been there in the background.

I gulp down the rest of my coffee. "Should we go find this pop-up chapel and figure out what the fuck we did last night?"

He stares at me for a moment then nods. "Yeah. Let's do it."

"That doesn't sound very legal," I say once the overly exuberant American lady inside the pop-up chapel is done explaining about some bullshit cross-promo tourism campaign between the Gold Coast and Las Vegas.

"Oh, I assure you it's very legal. And you two"—she glances at her laptop—"Mr. Fitzgerald Mortimer Humphrey Eastridge and Mr. Muir Landers are officially married as of 3:25 a.m. today."

I glare at her then scan the tent, checking how close the few people in here are. "Thanks. Now everyone knows my middle names."

My mortifying middle names, because my parents decided they wanted to embarrass their kids from day one, giving them anindication nice and early of what they could expect for the rest of their lives.

She looks up and smiles. "I think they're adorable."

"What's your middle name?" I ask.

Her smile vanishes, and she clears her throat. "Never mind. Anyway, since I'm assuming you've misplaced it, here is a copy of your wedding certificate." She slides it under the plexiglass. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

I blow out a frustrated breath and ask Muir, "Is there anything else we want to know?"