Page 100 of Rafferty's Rules
‘Well, what’s a size zero?’ Edie asks as her uncle’s shoulders begin to shake.
‘Not worth living for?’ her grandmother answers, almost as though her answer is a guess. ‘Why darl? Where have you heard that said?’
‘Poppy just said her big sister, Bethany, is a size zero.’ The little girl pushes her elbow against her cocked hip, the iPad she’s holding wavering in her hand.
‘Have you been chatting to your little friends on iMessage again? You know you’ll get grounded from using that thing. Byron’s quite strict about how they spend their time,’ Sally murmurs in my direction.
‘Byron’s delusional,’ Roman grumbles around a bite of his toast.
‘Yes but, what isa size zero, Nana,’ Edie demands, her frustration almost palpable.
‘It’s a clothing size, darl.’
‘For coat hangers,’ Roman adds.
‘But how can zero be a size?’ she demands. ‘How can anyone be a zero—not even a newborn baby is zero! Unless they’ve just been borned? Come on, Poppy’s sister would have to be invisdible if she was a size zero, wouldn’t she?’
‘Ah, I see what you mean,’ her grandmother answers patiently. ‘Size zero is a clothing size. Look.’ At this point, she pulls the neck of Roman’s T-shirt who pretends to fall off his chair. Edie begins to giggle, the sound infectious and causing us all to smile at her. She’s the troublesome twin, sure, but so darn cute and endearing.
‘See how uncle Roman’s T-shirt is size M?’ The little girl nods, still giggling. ‘That’s M for—’
‘Mediocre,’ Roman says.
‘M formedium.’
‘Yes, I know that. M for medium, S for small, but where does zero come?’
‘Skinny chicks who don’t eat biscuits,’ Roman says.
‘Well, that’s just stupid,’ Edie answers. ‘People who don’t eat biscuits deserve to be invisible.’
I excuse myself from the kitchen, and take my laundry back to the cottage. The day is warm but overcast. Sally says the forecast is for rain today and tomorrow, but that the sun will be back for the weekend, just in time for the big day. The house is abuzz with preparations and it’s not hard to see how much Amber and Byron are looking forward to the official start of their lives together. Even if they’re already living in sin, according to the edicts of my family. Or as Gammie would say,tryin’ the goods before committin’ to the purchase. As far as I can tell, the Phillips boys are exactly the kind of men that are worth committing to, without the benefit of perusing their reviews.
As I walk the path between the main house and the cottage, I hold several imagined conversations with Rafferty in my head about how it would go if I told him how I really feel about him. In one, he tells me he’s far too young and too pretty to be pinned down. In another, he rails and yells, insisting I promised I wouldn’t fall in love with him. In another, he barely speaks, though buys me a bus ticket to get me back to Sydney. But the pretend conversation that most resonates is where he tells me he just doesn’t feel the same way.
‘What’s up?’ As I reach the cottage, Rafferty is standing at the door.
‘Nothing,’ I answer trying hard to banish the fictitious Rafferty’s from my head. It’s hard, and that final Rafferty is so stubbornly insistent that I can’t help my deep sigh.
His arms folded across his chest, he has all the bearing of a man comfortable in his skin.
‘Did someone say something to you over at the house to upset you?’
‘No.’ Why would they?
‘So I don’t need to kick someone’s arse for upsetting you?’ As he straightens, he looks like he means it.
‘Nothing happened.’ As usual, they made me feel like part of the family, even though we both know I’m not. ‘Your mom ironed my clothes for me,’ I add, swallowing thickly as I hug the downy softness to my chest to hide.
‘Did she put pleats in your undies?’ he asks, a small grin pulling at his lips.That mouth, that man.It is completely unfair that he is so...overwhelming. How did I ever think I’d get out of this arrangement unscathed?
I look away and when I look back, I catch his eyes flicking away from my mouth, my insides suddenly warm and fluttering. But then I remind myself;he might want me, just not in the way I want him.
‘Want to do something this afternoon?’
‘Sure, but your mom says it’s going to rain.’ We could stay in. Close the shutters, lie on the bed and listen to the rain on the roof. Kiss until we’re hot and sweaty and you’re begging for my mouth someplace else.
Apparently, I still have a little work to do on my telepathy as he steps down from the doorway instead ofin.
