But she’s not alone.
Amara, Mabel and some of the others from the Burnt Bones are right there with her.
The tavern isn’t officially open for a little longer, but they all take a seat around their chosen table in the far corner.
I watch as Amara and Mabel cosy up together, without a care in the world as they gaze at one another. My attention split between their performance and Cyrus.
Cyrus– who appears like she has no emotion or opinion on this– who appears to be just watching her friend and her new girlfriend love one another. But I can see the difference in her.
The way her eyes lock on, them then dart away, only to end up back on them a second later. Sorrow filling those deep irises with each pass. And then there’s the way her chest caves a little quicker with each inhale.
The useless organ in my chest cracks with each pass of her eyes.
Not once does her gaze swoop over to me.
Turning on my heel, I head out back. If they have a problem with not being served, then they should come back when we’re actually open.
As I make it into the modest, little kitchen of the tavern, two things become abundantly clear.
One, even after months of Cyrus and I doing what we’ve been doing, she’s still utterly in love with her Captain. The one in love with somebody else. Stuck in her loop of unrequited love.
Two, I’m now stuck in my own loop of unrequited love.
Because I foolishly ignored my own advice to not fall in love with someone who can never be in love with me.
I’m in love with Cyrus.
Chapter Twenty-Five
TALLY
The stupid basket is still sitting in front of me an hour later.
The chatter from inside the tavern is a continuous stream of annoyance.
I’ve already come to the conclusion, I’m not in the right headspace to take Cyrus back to the pool. To have a date and pretend I didn’t just witness something that’s making my heart want to fall to pieces within my chest.
It’s also very clear that Cyrus doesn’t plan on excusing herself from the group to go about our plans.
Fuck this and fuck her.
Everything around me feels fragile, and I want nothing more than to lash out and break something. Only to remember, I knew not to let this happen. Yet, I let it happen anyway.
And this fucking basket is just sat there, waiting for something that isn’t going to happen.
With a deep huff, I stand, intending on putting away the basket’s contents. My fingers graze over the fabric of the blankets, the soft material catching on my skin. My thoughts instantly change direction.
I can still go and have a picnic. Even if it’s on my own.
It's truly sad and pathetic. But I have everything ready to go, an evening off and going somewhere that I cherish so fondly will make all these emotions seem so pointless. So insignificant compared to everything else out there. The pool– heck any place on this Island– has always had the knack of calming me, making the big things seem not quite so suffocating.
Swiping the basket from the side, exiting the kitchen and padding as quietly as I can towards the back door, so that I'm not seen. It's the coward's way out, but everything’s feeling a little too raw. I can’t see her right now.
It’s not even her fault.
Although I’ll still put all the blame on her.
It's notmy faultshe’s beautiful.
