Page 55 of In the Same Boat

I can’t help but pull a face. But what kind of wingman would I be if I didn’t say…

‘Sure.’

Sammie walks over and casts a curious eye over the breakfast. She’s wearing a floaty blue dress, one without straps – I don’t think I’ve ever truly appreciated how much there is to admire about a pair of shoulders, a neckline, the way she strokes her collarbone as she thinks. As she gets closer I can smell the sun cream on her skin.

‘Do you like pancakes?’ I ask.

‘Hmm, sometimes,’ she replies.

I wonder if that’s true, or if she’s messing with me. I know that she’s smart – her mum mentioned she has two degrees. I wonder if one of them is in psychological warfare, because what do you mean ‘hmm, sometimes’? How has this woman walked out here and made me feel insecure about breakfast? It’s a shame she doesn’t play video games, because that kind of expert-level thinking could make her a valuable asset on my squad.

‘You made all of this from scratch?’ she asks.

‘No,’ Dad says brightly, appearing beside me with a coffee for Sammie. ‘We did.’

Sammie takes the coffee from him, smiling as though she knows that might not be true.

‘I do a lot for morale,’ Dad insists.

‘It’s an important job,’ Chrissy assures him.

We sit outside on the deck because Dad likes to make the most of the sun before it gets too hot to sit out. The morning is already warming up, the marina is twinkling, people are starting to move around. Monte Carlo is coming to life.

As we all sit down, I’m proud of the job I’ve done with the table. Pancakes stacked on a large white plate, toppings laid out in bowls so everyone can help themselves – the flowers from last night are still here, and I’m not usually a fan of flowers, but they elevate my efforts for sure.

I serve Chrissy first. Then Sammie, who watches me like I might be trying to poison her. She cuts into hers with a scepticism usually reserved for defusing bombs. I try not to watch as she takes her first bite, but I do and I could swear her eyes are trying to roll into the back of her head, but she’s fighting it. Her poker face holds firm. I think she’s enjoying them though. Her eyebrows lift very slightly, and she looks down at the plate like she can’t quite believe it.

‘Are they okay?’ I check.

‘Yeah, they’re okay,’ she says simply.

There’s a woman trying to hide her delight, if ever I saw one.

‘I’ve had better,’ she adds.

Ouch. Now those are the words of someone who is trying to hurt me.

‘Well, they’re the best I’ve ever had,’ Chrissy assures me. ‘You’ll have to give me the recipe.’

‘Ah, but then you wouldn’t have a reason to come back,’ Dad replies.

She smiles at him.

‘I’m sure I’d find one.’

Ha. They’re going to put me off my breakfast if they don’t give it a rest.

By the time Dad starts telling a story I would very much prefer he didn’t tell – as is almost always the case – I notice that half of Sammie’s food has vanished already.

‘Nico is usually a nightmare in the kitchen,’ Dad tells them.

I shoot him a look, telling him to leave it there, but I can see his smile growing. He thinks it’s charming when he tells this story. He’s the only one who thinks that.

‘There was one time when he cooked dinner for one of his girlfriends and nearly burned the flat down,’ he tells them.

Brilliant. Not only has he made me look like I can’t usually cook without a 999 call, but his choice of words, ‘one of his girlfriends’, makes it sound like I have multiple girlfriends at once. Sammie gives me a look, like maybe she heard it that way too.

‘They left a pan on,’ Dad continues. ‘The two of them… got distracted.’