Page 234 of Double or Nothing

That’s what this whole thing is. A bizarre arrangement. Of people, not cheeses.

Not relationship.

Not friendship.

Not anything we can defend or explain.

“Fine, we can share the Comté and your truffle brie and the…” Jack holds up a pack. “Bleu d’Auvergne. This arrangement suits me just fine.”

When the first batch is ready, we remain standing around the island rather than carrying plates to the table. Jack cuts each toastie into three pieces, screw which belongs to who.

Alice holds up a piece.

“To us,” she says. “And the joy of sharing cheese.”

There are no champagne glasses to raise. Just three chunks of toastie held above the island.

Jack touches his against Alice’s.

I add mine.

“To us,” I repeat.

We eat in silence.

Afterwards, Alice grabs her sketchbook from the sofa and draws the Toastique Pro. She actually sits at the kitchen island while we drink a fresh batch of coffee, and sketches out the toastie machine, with the plates still scattered around it.

Jack peers at the page.

“You’re immortalising an appliance? Is this a side effect of the upcycling programme? I’m worried about you, Alice.”

“It isn’t the machine I’m immortalising, jackass.”

She adds more detail to the three plates. Three hands touching pieces of toastie together.

“It’s this.”

Jack doesn’t make another joke.

We return to the sofa.

This time, Alice lies lengthways between us. Her head rests in Jack’s lap while her legs stretch across mine.

Jack combs his fingers through her hair.

I hold both her feet beneath my arm.

The upcycling programme continues, but nobody pays attention.

Alice studies Jack from below.

“What?”

“I’m looking at you.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”