“She didn’t hurt me. I could understand why she wanted to find him. I was terrified for her. That he would hurt her, that he would shun her the way he shunned me. The day Reilly was born, I knew nothing in this world would stop me from protecting her.”
I smile at her declaration of love, despite a kernel of buried hurt that’s deep inside me. “I’ve always wondered what that sort of love feels like. I didn’t have that from my own parents. Me and my sister, MJ, were simply unfortunate slip-ups from drug-filled nights of sex. It was a surprise my parents could reproduce considering the state their health was in.” I take a second toobserve Andrea, ensuring I’m not pushing too hard with my truth. She sits quietly and listens, a mask of no emotion on her face.
“I spent my youth raising my sister and trying to hide from our horrific reality. So, I had never had that unwavering protective feeling that a parent gives a child. Until MJ had Neive. The day that girl was born, I swore to protect her. I threw everything into holding that promise and put every part of myself on the line to do that. Even recently, I denied my feelings for Reilly, thinking it was necessary. I was wrong. And I will spend the rest of my life being sorry for that. Whether Reilly forgives me or not.”
Andrea picks up my untouched cup and pops it in the sink. She has been unnervingly quiet, taking in everything I have been saying and silently making her judgement.
She stares at the picture of Reilly and herself at prom. “What’s your plan? How are you going to win her back?”
“I need her to be in the same room as me first. To talk to me. Then I’ll give her everything to show her how sorry I am and how much she means to me.”
“Don’t try to buy her heart. Anyone can buy flowers and jewellery. Show Reilly you know her. Show her you really care about her.” Her body language is still standoffish, but she is giving me the go-ahead. An opportunity I won’t waste.
THIRTY-THREE
Reilly
Ilove it here, early in the morning; the sun is starting to rise, and the light is starting to shine through the window. It is still and quiet. My calm place, my zen.
I need some downtime this week, a little bit of quiet. Mum, Dorothy and the girls have rallied around me. They’ve seen how heartbroken I’ve been over Elton, and after seeing him last week I nearly slipped back into a world of pain. Opening Reilly’s Bakes could not have come at a better time. The perfect distraction, I’ve fully thrown myself into it. I spend most mornings here, prepping, and experimenting. Sometimes, I come here to sit and be still. Everything is still chaotic, but I have a week to get it sorted before I open.
There’s a knock at the door. It’s 6.30 a.m. No way the girls are up and over here at this time. I fold back the paper we so elegantly taped to the windows for a little privacy and to createa little sense of mystery and excitement. A signwriter is turning up today to sort the window graphics.
But it’s not the guy from the sign company. It’s a Costa employee. Why on earth is a Costa employee knocking on my door?
I crack the door open. “Delivery for Reilly.” A skinny young lad tries to pass a cup through the gap in the door.
“I didn’t order anything.”
The kid rolls his eyes. “Some guy came in first thing and told us to bring you over an oat vanilla latte and an almond croissant,” he says as if I should know what he is talking about. He peers behind me into the shop. “What’s this place going to be?”
“A bakery. What was the guy’s name?”
“I dunno. Some guy; tall, dark hair. Tips well, hence why I am here,” he says this as he not so discreetly thumbs behind his shoulder, pointing at the car idling over the road. “Look, lady, do you want the coffee or not?” He sighs, probably not keen on being involved in this so early in the morning.
Oh, I definitely want that coffee. I’ve got my espresso machine, but I haven’t had a chance to set it up yet. It’s still in the box. Must make that a priority for today.
I grab the coffee and thank the guy before shutting the door and locking back up, peeking out through the corner of the newspaper-taped window.
Elton slides the car window down and speaks to the delivery boy, while glancing my way. I flick the paper back quickly, praying he doesn’t see me.
There’s a note on the side of the cup.
To keep you going with all these early mornings that you actually hate.
Eltonx
As I take a sip of the coffee, the warmth and sweetness melt me. I do hate these mornings. I peek back outside. His car is still there. Go home, Elton. You’re wasting your time.
“This is ridiculous. He can’t sit out there all day.” I make my way back to the counter, taking a bite of the almond croissant. “Not as good as mine,” I whisper to myself.
Trying not to link the coffee and croissant to the man I’m trying to shove out of my mind, I catch the handwritten note on the back of the wrapper.
Not as good as yours
My heart swells. Such a simple bloody note turns me to complete goo for the man.
Eurgh, he’s ruining my early-morning zen time!
