Page 45 of Fat Enemy Mate

"Can I ask you something?" Fern suddenly asks.

"Sure," I reply, grateful for the distraction.

"It's about Wilf." She says, glancing at Skylar in a way that tells me they’ve already talked about this. “Tell us to mind our own business, but how's that going?”

I take a breath. My initial reaction is to brush off the question, deflect, or deny it. But something stops me. Perhaps it’s the kindness on their faces, or the fact that I’ve never been in this situation and certainly never had anyone to talk to about things like this before. Suddenly, I’m talking before I’ve even thought it through.

"Good, I think. Complicated," I tell them, and saying it out loud is somehow worse than I expected but also a relief. "I'm in his cabin every day, and we…there's something there. I'm not pretending there isn't. But I can't see him wanting anything permanent. He's been on his own for a long time. He's not…saying anything. I know he doesn’t talk much to anyone, but I doubt he wants me to stay. He hasn’t said, and…"

"Lara…" Fern starts.

"And even if he did," I tell her, before she can finish, "I don't think I could. I can't see myself living in a town of shifters. I can't see myself never going back to my cabin. My whole life is there, and I don’t belong here, I…”

I stop, completely running out of words, and look down at my plate.

"Lara," Fern says, gently.

"Sorry," I tell her. "I don't know where all that came from."

"Don't apologize for it." Skylar says, “We did ask.”

"I don't know either of you well enough to dump all that on," I laugh

"Yes, you do," Skylar tells me. "You've known us a fortnight, and that’s long enough for us to decide we like you well enough to be at this lunch. We’re friends now."

"Okay," I reply, a lump in my throat preventing me from saying anything else.

"Lara," Fern says, "You don't have to know what you want yet. You're allowed to have feelings for a Wilf but not know if you want to live in his town. You're allowed to want him and still want to go home. You don't have to have a whole plan right now."

"Yeah, but he…" I start.

"He’s a grown man," Fern goes on. "He seems very invested from what we can all see, and what you’ve said confirms that. It sounds like you two just need to have a chat about what you want."

“Easier said than done,” I groan.

“Well,” Skylar laughs, “that’s why it’s easier to give advice than to take it.”

I laugh despite the situation, but feel grateful when the bill comes because I’m not sure I trust myself not to keep spilling. I’ve never had close female friends, and the thought thatthese two women already consider us friends makes my heart swell. Wilf insisted on giving me some money for lunch, but Skylar won’t take it, declaring that it’s her treat and we can take it in turns for the next lunch. Stepping out of the café into the sunshine, I feel slightly lighter, perhaps spilling about Wilf was actually what I needed.

We’re still talking as we begin the walk through the park toward the clinic. Skylar and Fern declare it the best walk in town, and I can see why, with the river flowing alongside, benches and fitness equipment line the path, with people jogging or just out walking like us. I know I don’t have to walk the entire length of the park, but it’s so lovely out, I do anyway, and soon we’re almost in front of the clinic doors.

Stopping at the gate, Skylar turns to me. "Come in for a drink before you head back? Wilf can pick you up from here." She offers.

"No, thanks," I tell her. "I'll walk back. I told Wilf I'd meet him at the hall, and I don’t even have a phone yet to tell him. The walk's nice anyway."

"Alright," Skylar says. "If you’re sure."

We hug goodbye, and I watch as they both head into the clinic before turning and heading back the way we came. The river park is the same path, with the same benches, the same crystal blue water. But the wind has picked up now, and the clouds have rolled in. There aren’t any joggers now, and I realize the path is completely empty.

I'm halfway along when I spot three men by one of the gates that cut down toward the river. For a moment, I feel relief. More people are exactly what I want because with the path empty, I’d started to feel a bit nervous. But as I watch them approach, my gut starts to twist. They’re not talking, they don’thave coffee, they’re not out for a run. They’re walking, staring straight at me. I realize they’re picking up their pace.

I slow down without meaning to and see the exact moment they clock it.

They’re closer now, and as they approach, I notice something around one of their necks glistening in the pale sunlight. A small dark disc on a thong.

A talisman.

The world goes hard around me, and I turn, walking back the other way, hoping it comes off as natural, but I quickly hear them approaching fast from behind, so I break into a run.