oil, garlic, bacon, sundried tomatoes.’
‘Sounds good.’ Tash held out her plate and Isla ladled a large serve of penne onto it, then some salad. She watched her do the same for Kody, inordinately proud of her daughter, who politely served her parents first. At home, they often had informal dinners curled up on the couch, cradling bowls of risotto or pasta while watching their favourite reality show. Tash knew the experts would frown upon that, citing family dinners should always be at a table. But Tash loved those nights on the couch and from what she could see, Isla had turned out just fine.
She stabbed at the penne and forked it into her mouth. Her appetite had fled around the time her father had yelled at her, but she’d have to make some show of eating to avoid an interrogation.
‘I’m auditioning for a play at school,’ Isla said. ‘The drama teacher wanted us to do Macbeth or Romeo and Juliet, but our class said we want to write our own.’
Kody’s eyebrows shot up, pride shining in his eyes. ‘That’s a big undertaking.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ Isla shrugged. ‘But we want to ditch the usual and do something different.’
‘Is it a musical?’
Isla rolled her eyes. ‘Everything doesn’t revolve around music, Dad.’
‘Yeah, it does,’ he said, and as they laughed, Tash felt more of an outsider than ever. Stupid to feel jealous when she’d had Isla all to herself for twelve years.
Sensing her discomfort, Kody shot her a concerned glance. As their gazes locked, her disquiet gave way to something else as heat filtered through her body like slow-moving lava. She clenched her thighs to stop herself from squirming under his intense gaze, wanting to break the deadlock but unable to look away.
‘Coach says I should keep training so I can slot back into the netball team when my suspension is over,’ Isla said, oblivious to the tension simmering between her parents. ‘Pretty stupid though, training on my own, and I told her so.’
That caught Tash’s attention and she turned to her daughter. ‘Why would you do that?’
Isla’s lips compressed in a mutinous line and she gave a slight shake of her head.
Kody opened his mouth but before he could say anything Tash jumped in. ‘Isla, I asked you a question.’
Isla’s fork hit her plate with a clatter as she glared at her. ‘Because I was mad at you, okay? It was a few days after you told me about Dad and I was angry you’d kept him from me and everything was topsy-turvy.’
Tash’s heart sank. She’d been afraid of this, Isla bottling up her anger then letting it spill out. And as her daughter slouched in her chair, arms folded and looking anywhere but at her, she wondered if she’d been fooling herself by believing things would ever be the same between them again.
Kody shot her a sympathetic glance. ‘What did the coach say after that?’
Tash watched her daughter revert to normal as she looked at Kody with open adoration.
‘She told me off and extended my suspension for a week. Harsh, but I guess I shouldn’t have spoken to her like that. I get it now.’
Tash swallowed, hating that Isla had taken so long to reveal this, hoping when she spoke her voice wouldn’t reveal how damn miserable she felt at causing her daughter so much angst. ‘Did you apologise?’
Isla nodded. ‘Anyway, can we forget about it? I’m not mad anymore, Mum, and I’d really like dessert now.’
‘I’ll get it,’ Tash said, eager to escape the table and Kody’s all-seeing stare. Did he blame her for causing their daughter pain as much as she blamed herself? Did he know how truly crappy she felt?
As she sliced the cake and stuck a spoon into the crumble, she let Isla and Kody’s chatter wash over her. They were so at ease with one another, so incredibly comfortable after knowing each other such a short time.
‘When can I have another guitar lesson, Dad?’
Tash stilled. Isla’s innocuous question reinforced the yawning gap between them and the close relationship her daughter had quickly built with Kody. The last time they were together he’d told her about being unable to touch a guitar let alone face anything to do with music, so for him to teach Isla how to play he’d undergone a massive shift. Had he sought professional help? Had he come to terms with the concert accident? She hoped so, because the world didn’t deserve to be deprived of his talent. No other rock star had