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Her text keeps replaying on repeat in my mind, along with her moans from our night together. I wanted this. I wanted her to move on and forget about me. But why does it feel so wrong? Why do I feel like I’ve made the worst mistake of my life?
“Listen, boss, you can scream and shout at me all you want. It’s water off a duck's back. But Chef doesn’t like it and today has been one step too far. So you either piss off or we close for thenight because a restaurant without a chef or sous chef—yep, he’s joining the mutiny—isn’t a restaurant anyone will want to be at.”
I’m about to open my mouth to tell her they can all go to hell, but she slams her hand on the desk and silences me with an angry glare. “I know you’re pissed right now, but so am I, boss. You’re not the only one who loves this place. You’re not the only one who wants it to succeed. Who’s put blood, sweat, and tears into making it what it is today. You’re also not the only one who knows what it meant to Reg, either. So shut up, go home, and let me do what you pay me to do.” With both palms flat on my desk, determination glinting in her eyes, I dip my head in resignation and leave the office without a word.
As soon as I’m in my car, I smash my palms against the steering wheel in frustration and yell into the silence. Why is everything so fucking difficult? Why couldn’t my dad still be alive? Any why can’t I get out of my fucking head and do what everyone else does and live happily ever after?
Because I know what happens when after comes, that’s why. You’re left half a person with a heart that's hollow. I can’t do that to Pheebs.
The all familiar pain shoots through my chest and I try to ignore the tingles in my fingers. I place my forehead on the steering wheel and breathe through the pain, through the fear, and through the guilt. After a few seconds, it subsides and I start the ignition and drive to the only place that brings me comfort.
“Mum, it’s me.” I pause to take my shoes off in the hallway and I’m faced with my dad’s magical smile. She’s been putting more pictures up. I look away from his eyes that are twinkling withhappiness and instead focus on the other pair of shoes next to mine. Lola’s here.
I try to quickly put my trainers back on and head out the same door I just walked through, but she catches me in the act. Arms folded over her chest, her brow raised, and her lips are drawn into a thin angry line. Shit, she’s pissed. She’s definitely spoken to Phoebe.
“I know you’re pissed off, but before you say anything?—”
“Oh no. You don’t get to talk right now. You get to listen. In the kitchen. Now, Freddie. And you bet your arse I’m pissed. Move it.”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard Lola sound so fierce. She’s normally so happy and smiley. I dutifully follow her into the kitchen because she’s my baby sister and I’ll do anything for her, but I’m really not in the mood for this verbal bashing from her. She’ll never understand.
A twinge in my chest has me throwing my arms out to the side and shaking them loose as I take a couple of deep breaths. I stroll into the kitchen and find not only Lola but my mum and Ivy there as well. I didn’t see her shoes in the hallway.
As if she can hear my thoughts, she offers her foot up and I see the little blue bags she has covering her heels. Dammit.
“Sit.” Lola holds out a chair for me and I gulp at her firmness. I follow her commands and plonk my elbows on the table, placing my head in my hands.
“Why did you do it, Freddie?” Lola’s voice sounds a little softer and I look up, hopeful that she isn’t going to rip me a new one. But with a clearing of her throat, Ivy reminds her of her stance and the frown is back on her face. “Phoebe is one of the best people we all know. She didn’t deserve it. She deserves everything good in the world and I was stupid enough to believe you could give it to her.”
“Well that’s on you not me, Lo. I’m sorry, but I’m not the happily ever after guy you all think I am,” I bite back.
Before I can say anything else, Mum interrupts me. “You used to be. You once told me you were going to marry Phoebe and make her an official Camden. What happened?”
A lump forms in my throat and I swallow back the emotion before schooling my features into the perpetual scowl they've grown accustomed to. “I grew up,” I utter out through a multitude of emotions.
“Bullshit!” Ivy shouts, and Mum tuts at her outburst. “I’m sorry, Mum but he’s talking utter bullpoop. Dad died, that's what happened. He knows it. You know it. We all do. And I’m fed up with pussyfooting around him. Dad’s dead.” I flinch at her harshness and Mum places a hand on her arm to silence her, but she pays it no attention. “No. I’m done. I won’t be silenced anymore. We’re allowed to talk about him. We’re allowed to remember him. And Mum’s allowed to put up photos of him without worrying about how you'll react. You need to start dealing with him not being here and stop putting everything into that bloody restaurant, pretending to yourself that you’re making him happy by being miserable. Because you’re not.
“We all lost him, Fred. Not just you. But we’re all able to appreciate the time we had with him instead of mourning over the time we didn’t.” She sits back in her chair and folds her arms over her chest, her breaths coming through thick and fast whilst I glare at her.
It’s my turn now.
“Yeah, you’re right.” My voice is eerily calm. “But just remember who was here after Dad died. Who was the one picking up the pieces when you threw yourself into your studies. Who made sure Lola was okay on a daily basis and who watched our mum fall apart at losing half of her soul.” I pause to take abreath and her mouth opens and closes, as if to defend herself, but thinking better of it.
“You talk about me moving on. To stop putting my all into the restaurant. But me putting my all into that restaurant helped pay your uni fees. It kept a roof over Mum’s head and allowed you all the time you needed to grieve and ‘move on’ from losing him. I wasn’t given that luxury.
“And before you interrupt, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I was the oldest and I promised him I’d look after you all. But I’m sorry if I can’t ‘move on’ the way you all have. I’m sorry that seeing his smile haunts me. That I hear his words on a daily basis, willing me to look afterhis girls.
“I love you all so much, but I don’t have it in me to love anyone else, to have to think about the pain when they inevitably leave me. Or when I leave them. It’s too much for my heart to take. I guess I’m just not as strong as you.” I stand and edge away from the table, averting my eyes from Lola’s tear stained cheeks, and head toward the hall.
I manage to throw my shoes on quickly and open the door when a hand touches my arm. I know it’s my mum. She rubs her thumb on my forearm and my gaze finds my dad’s smiling face again. I lower my head, shame taking over me. He’d be so ashamed of how I treated Phoebe.
I am too.
“I’m sorry, Freddie. I put too much pressure on you. And your dad should never have made you make a promise like that. You were so strong after he died, but I didn’t realise that while I fell apart, you were building walls around your heart. Tear them down, Fred. Let yourself be happy. You can’t live your life worrying about what will happen in the future. Be happy. That’s the only promise you should be abiding by. And it’s the only one your dad would want you to follow blindly.”
She pauses for a breath and I whisper through my emotions, “I can’t, Mum. Losing him broke you. I can’t do that to Phoebe.”
“You already have.” My eyes fly open and shoot to hers. “She lost you the minute you shut yourself off from her. Don’t make her grieve you whilst you’re still alive. Not when you have so much more you can give.” She reaches up on her tiptoes and strokes the hair from my head, places a kiss on my cheek, and turns on her heels and heads back into the kitchen whilst I contemplate my life choices.
