Page 11 of Whimsical Ink

Emma returns with plates, and we demolish the pizzas in record time. Wine is refilled and everyone relaxes.

Dad’s eyes twinkle as he turns to Maddy. “Maddy, are you joining us tomorrow for our annual cricket game to determine who the champion is?”

“Oh, no. I usually watch the games.”

“Liar,” I sing. She turns to me with pursed lips, and a smirk spreads across my face. No way am I letting her out of this. “I remember watching a very aggressive football game before you left uni.”

Her eyes widen when it dawns on her, and she laughs. “Well, she shouldn’t have pulled my hair.”

“No. And you’re joining us to determine who gets eternal glory.”

“Fine.”

I lean forward to whisper against her cheek, “You’re gonna lose.”

“You wish, corporate boy.”

“Like drawing pictures will help you.”

She smirks. “Means I’m good with my hands, no?”

I grin at her and nearly miss the hitch in Maddy’s breath. A small flush stains her cheeks, but it could be from the wine.

The conversation breaks off to gossip about the other families who have been on this street as long as us. We essentially grew up together, always here for the summer, always get a big update about their lives from Mum and Dad at Christmas.

This year I tune it out and focus on Maddy. She’s tired.

When she yawns for the third time, I decide it’s time for bed. She had a long day, and I don’t want exhaustion to interrupt her relaxing tomorrow. And I need her in top-notch form to demolish Emma at cricket.

“I think it’s bedtime.” I take the empty glass she’s barely holding upright and set it on the coffee table.

She rubs her eyes and sits up straighter. “No, I’m fine.”

“Come on.”

She glances at the others talking amongst themselves, and I click.

“Don’t worry about them. They’ll stay up for ages and probably put on an old cricket game.”

“I don’t want to be rude,” she whispers.

I lower my voice to match hers. “They don’t care if you’re tired and would rather sleep.” When she bites her lip and looks at the stairs longingly, I change tactics. “If you don’t stand, I’ll carry you.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “I’m up.”

“Thought so,” I say and cover my disappointment that I don’t get to carry her. To clutch her thighs and feel her head on my chest. Another time. Maybe at the wedding.

We stand and Mum waves at us while Emma says, “Good night. Let me know if you need anything, Maddy.”

“Thank you. Good night.” She hovers at the stairs, holding her bag to her chest.

Right. I never showed her my room.

Oh shit.

There isn’t a spare room.

There’s my parent’s room, Emma’s room…and my room.