From what I can hear, this older woman used to know him when he was a child. ‘It’s wonderful to see you, Noah. You must have been six or seven when we lived next door to you and your father.’
I make myself busy and avoid looking at the two customers who are engaging in a lengthy kiss against the flower wall.
‘Excuse me,’ says an older man. ‘Can you take a photo of us?’ His smile stretches from ear to ear. ‘It’s our two-month anniversary.’
They both giggle like lovesick teenagers. Reluctantly I take his camera phone as they go to stand by the flower wall. I glare at the other couple who hurry away to their seats. After five minutes of waiting for the man to stop whispering sweet nothings to his girlfriend, I clear my throat. My patience is wearing thin. ‘Are you ready yet?’ I snap.
‘Hang on.’ She raises a manicured hand. ‘I need to apply an extra layer of lipstick.’
‘Oh, my dear Sugar Plum.’ The man snuggles into the side of the woman, placing his arm over her shoulders.
She giggles and gushes, ‘Oh, my big strong, Action Man.’
Rolling my eyes, I let out an impatient sigh. They both stare at me with worried faces. The woman smothers her lips in a bold red colour and pouts at the camera. I take two photos: one is very blurred and the other misses out half of the man’s head.
I’m about to hand the man his phone back when Noah comes up behind me. ‘I think we can do better than that, Alice.’ To my horror he takes the phone away from me. ‘Let’s take a good shot of you both,’ he beams to the man and woman.
I storm off to the counter. He returns a few minutes later.
‘Why do you keep doing that to me?’ I growl.
‘Helping an old friend,’ Noah says, in an ultra-happy voice. ‘You look like you could do with some help.’
I can’t stop the emotion and anger building inside of me. ‘You’renotan old friend, Noah, you’re an annoying ex-boyfriend.’
Noah pulls a face at me. ‘Oh, ex-boyfriends can’t be friends with you.’
Oh God, this man is making my blood lava hot. He is so annoying. ‘Noah, let’s get one thing straight. We’re not going to end up having iced frapps and giggles with each other.’
He smirks. ‘I don’t like iced frappes so no chance of that.’ As he walks away whistling, I turn my back on the café and let out a silent scream.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Noah and I agreed that Thursday would be his day off in the week and I would have Monday as mine. It’s my first day without him and so far, it’s been bliss… apart from the woman who complained about her Cuddle Muffin being cold and the couple who left me some handwritten feedback on a napkin which read,to the miserable woman behind the counter – you should smile more!
I’ve not missed Noah and his annoying ways at all. I’ve thought about him and our past a lot, but I think I’m still processing him being back.
The woman on table ten is still sat by herself. She’s gazing at the beach out of the café window. Her date has not arrived. ‘Is everything okay?’ I ask.
She looks at me. ‘I don’t think he’s coming.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I say. She casts me a weak smile. I slide into the seat opposite her with my back to the café door. ‘Has he not called you or texted?’
She shakes her head. ‘No. The last I heard from him was yesterday when he texted me to tell me the date and the time. He’s half an hour late. I think he’s stood me up.’
‘What a dirt bag,’ I exclaim, feeling all my pent-up anger over my failed relationships rise inside of me. ‘Relationships should come with a health warning. They’re not worth it. I’ve had my heart broken so many times, there’s a giant crack in it.’ The woman has an odd expression. I ignore her. ‘Does your scumbag of a date have a name?’
‘I’m sorry,’ says a male voice behind me. ‘Did you just call me a “scumbag”?’
I shoot out of my chair to find a man glaring at me. He looks at the woman. ‘Sarah, I’m sorry I’m late. Let’s go somewhere else. Don’t think I want to give this place our business.’
Feeling embarrassed, I hide behind the counter.
Pam, the cake supplier, bustles in after lunch and introduces herself. The first thing I notice is her beautiful light silvery hair piled on top of her head. It glistens under the ceiling light. She gestures to it. ‘I’m embracing my grey hair. No more hair dye.’
‘It’s stunning.’
She smiles and touches a flyaway wisp. ‘My ex-husband hates it.’
