Page 12 of The Quirky Vet

"What do we tell everyone when we get back?"

"How about nothing? You know what people are like. They'll never let us live this down. They're still talking about the time I accidentally provoked an emu when I was fourteen and ended up being chased through town by that stupid, deranged bird."

Some older folks even occasionally call me Emu and then crack up, like it's the funniest thing in the world. It doesn't take much to amuse people in the outback.

"Family and Scuttlebuttians, sure," Muir says. "They don't need to know about this. But what about our friends? Are we seriously going to keep this from Wilby, Col, Linus and Ryde?"

They're not just our closest friends, they're also the guys we work with at the vet clinic, so we see them all the time.

"That is a bit tricky." I think about it but don't have any ideas. "What do you think we should do?"

His eyes dart left to right while he considers it. "Look," he eventually says. "Wilby and Col are getting married next week. Let's maybe keep it under wraps until then. We don't want to steal their thunder."

I nod. "That makes sense." We both peel our blankets off and make our way to the door. "Wait."

Muir stops walking. "What?"

"Are you sure that's the real reason you don't want to tell our friends about us?"

"Uh, yeah." His eyes slide away from me, and a guilty look flashes across his face like the time we tried to nick candy from the local store and got busted by the attendant. "What else would it be?"

I realise the gravity of the situation we're in. We're legit legally actually technically married. But who says I can't lighten things up a little?

I step in closer to him. "You wouldn't happen to want to hold off telling everyone about us because you're embarrassed to be married to me by any chance, would you?"

He rolls his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. We got married by accident."

"Ouch." I clutch my chest. "Your husband has a very sensitive ego."

"Fuck off."

I latch on to his wrist, forcing him to look at me. "That's no way to speak to the man you're going to spend the rest of your life with."

With my eyes locked on his, I see the exact moment my words wash over him. I'm going for some light-hearted humour to relieve some of the awkwardness of the situation, but Muir doesn't seem to be taking it that way.

His pupils dilate. "You're being an idiot," he says, voice raspy.

Still holding his wrist, I tug him towards me. The smell of the hotel body wash wafts in the small gap between us, but I can't tell whose body it's coming from. Not that it matters. I don't even know why I noticed it. This hangover is messing with me.

Since my attempt at humour is flatlining, I take a different approach.

"Things will be fine," I say, my voice low and serious. "I promise you. We'll get whatever this is sorted out, and nothing will change, okay? It's you and me and just another crazy adventure to add to our ever-expanding list of crazy adventures."

I lean forwards, trying to coax a smile out of him with my eyes.

"Okay." The corners of his mouthfinallytip up a little. "You really think we can get this sorted?"

"One hundred percent." I let go of his wrist and place my hand on his shoulder. "I promise you, mate, everything will go back to normal in no time."

3

Muir

Fitz is shirtless, his beard is wet, and his hair is tucked under a shower cap, the green dye he applied to both areas ten minutes ago still setting, and he's perched on his bed painting his fingernails a glittery green because colour coordination is important.

Welcome toournormal.

It's all part of the territory that comes with being besties with a TikTokker. He's going to film some new content since his double proposal plan didn't come to pass for reasons that need no further explanation. With some free time on my hands after we got back from the Gold Coast, I offered to help him out. To be honest, I think Gramps was keen to see the back of my miserable, moping arse for a few hours.