Page 90 of Playdate

“Mmm.”

That’s herI don’t believe yousound.

Dad takes his tea back into the living room, leaving Mum and me alone in the kitchen. She leans against the counter and studies me for a moment.

“How was the trip really?” she asks.

“Cold.”

“I mean the people.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“The people?”

“Yes. The other parents. Teachers. Anyone interesting? Any good campfire gossip?”

Subtle. Very subtle.

“Everyone survived,” I say.

“That wasn’t my question.”

I grab a glass of water just to give my hands something to do.

“Freya went,” Mum adds casually, giving me the look.

God I hate that look. This woman seems to know everything.

“Yeah,” I say.

“She’s lovely.”

“Yep.” I reply, not making eye contact. Because if I do, I am sure she will be able to stare into my soul and see how I really feel about Freya Collins.

Another small pause settles in the kitchen. Mum watches me like she’s piecing together a puzzle.

“You’ve always had a soft spot for her.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement considering we grew up together.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

I sigh quietly.

“Hypothetically,” she continues, “if someone had feelings for a woman they’d known since childhood…”

“Hypothetically,” I interrupt, “that sounds like a terrible idea.”

She smiles slightly. “Why?”

“Because friendships are fragile. Especially when kids are involved.”

“Are they?”

“Yes.”

“Or are you just afraid of changing something that feels safe?”