Chapter 22 Shaun
Shaun
For like the hundredth time this afternoon, I re-read the text I got from Lara after I dropped Freddie off at work:
Hey Shauny! It was great to see you the other week.
Listen, I’m so sorry about Viggo. He suggested coming into the cafe and I’ve been meaning to visit you for ages so I just thought why not!
I didn’t think he’d make such a fuss over some silly matcha.
Don’t worry, I gave him a good telling-off on the way to the slopes.
It was so great to see the cafe in such good shape and Frankie was nice, (although you’d think someone so good-looking would know the difference between a front and rear-facing camera!
Does he know he filled my phone with about a hundred selfies when he was meant to be taking pictures of us?) Anyway, let’s catch up soon? Just me and you? Kiss-kiss x
What feels like draft number seven billion of my reply glares up from my phone screen, the unclicked “send” button taunting me:
Hi Lara. It was nice to see you too! Don’t be silly, Viggo was cool—and I learned a thing or two about matcha from him, so tell him thanks. It would be great to meet up! I’m pretty busy but I should have a bit more free time once Freddie’s fully trained. Let me know when would suit. Shaun.
Reading it back makes my toes curl. It’s full of lies: I don’t feel like hanging out, it wasn’t particularly nice to see her, and Viggo had, in fact, been a complete and utter dickhead. If I had it my way, she’d never set foot in the café again.
I’ve debated ignoring the text, not replying at all, but I’m a coward, beholden to social laws far beyond my understanding, so I hit send. It feels gross. Hopefully my message gets lost in the deluge of her inbox, never to be responded to, or even read at all!
Tossing my phone down on the sofa, I run a hand through my freshly showered hair and flop back so I’m staring at the ceiling.
Holy shit, I actually kissed Freddie. Or he kissed me. Right here on the sofa, and what’s more, I liked it. I bloody loved it!
If I close my eyes, I can still feel the ghost of his touch, those pillow-soft lips, his bold tongue inside my mouth while his hand explored my chest, inflicting pleasure from his fingertips.
Dropping him off at work was torture. The second we said goodbye, all I wanted was to bring him back here with me so we could, well, do all the things I’ve been fantasizing about. And more. Crikey. What has that boy done to me? It’s like my whole body is bursting when I’m around him.
And apparently even when I’m not!
I promised myself I’d hold off taking things further until I’d had time to think, and to calm down from what turned out to be one of the craziest, hottest days of my life, but I don’t want it to stop.
I want him. I want to text him, or call the café to see if it’s quiet, and invite him back over right this second. I want to kiss him again.
Freddie Young. My first guy crush. My first guy kiss. My hot new barista. My… employee.
Freddie, my employee. It still doesn’t sound great.
I think back to earlier, back when we were on the sofa and Freddie was edging closer towards me. Of the two of us, Freddie definitely made the first move. Does that make it okay?
Once again, all my good feelings unspool like an old cassette tape. The high was only going to last so long, I suppose. I still need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do.
I could kick myself. It felt like it was going so well. It is going so well! Ever since Freddie walked into the café, it’s like my heart remembered how to beat again. Is this just my brain self-sabotaging? Like it always does?
I take a deep breath.
There’s only one thing for it: a second opinion. I need to be judged, fairly but brutally. Time to do what any self-respecting thirty-three-year-old should do when they’re spiralling.
I’m going to call my mum.
Nel Harrison, my mother, picks up on the third ring.
“Hello, love! Two seconds, I’ll put you on speaker—my hands are covered in flour.”
“What?” The gruff voice of my father, John, shouts from another room.
Mum sighs.
“I wasn’t talking to you, dear! Shaun’s on the phone!” Her Brummie accent gets stronger when she shouts. Mum lowers her voice again. “Sorry, love. Can you hear me okay?”
“Loud and clear,” I say.
“What?” Dad shouts again.
“Oh for goodness sake. Be quiet, John!” There’s a click that can only be Mum shutting the kitchen door. “There. Sorry, you know what he’s like.”
“Deaf as a post?”
Mum giggles. “Selective hearing, I call it. Doesn’t stop him having the History channel on full blast every afternoon! I swear, you can hear artillery from the back garden. Anyway, it’s lovely to hear from you. How are you, love? I hear you’ve been getting snow?”
“Most of it’s slush, but yeah. It’s Baltic.”
“And how’s the café?”
“It’s good. Great, actually. It’s great.” No point telling her how tough it’s been. She’ll only worry.
“And are you taking care of yourself?”
“Sort of.”
I can practically hear her eyes rolling.
“You work too hard, Shaun. I’ve always said it. You’re going to burn yourself out if you’re not careful.”
“I think I’m past that, to be honest, Mum,” I say. “All burnt out. A pile of ash, that’s me.”
“We can send you some money, if that would help—”
“No no,” I interrupt. “I’m fine for money. There’s just a lot going on. The first couple of months were always going to be the hardest. It’ll get easier.”
It had bloody better get easier.
There’s a rattle of a kitchen drawer as Mum clears her throat. “And how’s, you know, everything else?”
She’s referring to my break-up with Lara, and the subsequent spin of depression it sent me on.
“Fine,” I say. “Better, actually.”
“Oh love, I’m so glad. I always said she was a bit of a princess, that one. Very charming but didn’t give you much in return—”
“Mum…” I cut across her.
“Alright, alright, I’ll leave it at that. You deserve better, that’s all I’ll say.”
A dense, slapping sound crackles down the phone—a noise I’ve heard a thousand times.
“What are you making?” I ask.
“Just bread.”
“What kind?”
“Stilton and walnut.”
“Mmm,” I salivate at the thought. “You know, if you put a tablespoon of treacle—”
“Do you think I was born yesterday?” Mum teases. “Who taught you that trick, again? Remind me.”
A slight pause as I swallow my pride. “You.”
“Look at that, he remembers! I still think you should have named that place after me, what with all the old recipes I taught you.”
“I could change it,” I suggest with a smirk. “What about Nutty Nel’s Bakehouse?”
“Watch it, sunshine,” she teases. We chuckle and, for a fleeting moment, I forget what I called to talk to her about. “So what else is going on with you, love?”
Whoosh. The nerves come flooding back. I don’t know what I’m more nervous about: being told what I’m doing is wrong, or that it’s not. Either way, it’s time to bite the bullet.
“I, er, had to hire a new barista actually. His name’s Freddie.”
“Oh? What happened to Kyle?”
“Something gruesome, hopefully,” I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “He got an acting job. Up and left with no notice.”
Mum tuts. “Oh for goodness sake! You know, that’s the thing with these creative types, they never stick around. No respect for contracts or the business or anything. Aw, I’m so sorry that happened, love. What’s this new guy like? Is he nice?”
“He’s a musician,” I say.
An awkward pause.
“Right…” says Mum, clearly in disbelief that she gave birth to such a moron.
“I know, I know. But honestly, he’s great! Really great.”
“If you say so, love. I just don’t want you getting hurt again on top of everything else.”
If only she knew the half of it. Come on, Shaun. Be brave.
“Mum?” I say, my voice small but serious.
“Yes, love?”
“I need to tell you something.” I take a deep breath. “I know how this will sound, but hear me out, okay? And I want your honest opinion after. Not just what you think I want to hear.”
The slapping of bread dough stops. I have her full attention.
“Of course, love. Oh gosh, you’re not in trouble, are you?” There’s genuine concern in her voice.
“No, don’t worry. I’m fine. Better than fine, actually. I…” My fingers are burning. I look down and discover I’ve been furiously rubbing a cushion between my fingertips. I trap my hand under my thigh and steel myself. Then, I say the words, “I’ve met someone.”
Silence for one heartbeat. Two.
“Oh Shaun, that’s fantastic news!” Mum exclaims, excitedly.
“Yeah. Thanks, Mum.”
She sounds elated. That’s the first hurdle crossed, at least.
Mum prattles on: “Gosh, I know the split from Lara hit you hard, but it’s great to hear you’re getting back out there. Tell me everything. What’s her name? Where did you meet?”
Shit. Here we go.
“Mum, you remember the new barista I hired?”
“Freddie? Yes, I was listening.”
“Yeah. Well, we’ve been, sort of, we’ve been spending some time together and I haven’t known him for very long but, well, he’s really nice and we sort of clicked and, um, it’s… him. Freddie, that is. He’s, um, he’s a he.”
My heart’s slamming against my ribs. Mum doesn’t say anything right away, so I forge ahead.
“I know you’re probably thinking this is a bit of a curveball.
It might seem like I’m rebounding, or maybe like I’ve lost my mind, but honestly, it doesn’t feel like that.
It feels different with him. He makes me happy and he’s, well, he’s like no one I’ve ever met.
I don’t know how to explain it, and I hope you’re not disappointed, but—”
“Oh, love,” Mum says. “I could never be disappointed! You thought I’d be upset that you’re dating a man?”
“Well, we’re not dating,” I clarify. “It’s still…
actually, I’m not even sure what it is yet.
Everything’s happened pretty fast. Really fast. But no, I knew you wouldn’t mind.
I know I’ve never talked about my sexuality before, but I totally would have if I’d needed to!
This is just the first time I’ve questioned it.
I still like women, but now I think—I know—I like men too. ”
A gentle sigh down the phone.
“Of course, love. Oh Shaun, thank you for telling me. I don’t mind who you’re with! So long as they treat you well and you’re happy, that’s all that matters. Same goes for your father too!”
“What?”
Mum ignores him. “So why did you think I’d be disappointed?”
I’m surprised she hasn’t picked up on it immediately.
“Well, because I’m his boss, Mum. I have a responsibility to him, don’t I? I thought you might think I’m, I dunno, taking advantage, or something?”
To my surprise, she laughs.
“Oh gosh I’m sorry love, but the idea of you taking advantage of anyone is quite frankly ridiculous. You’ve always been so selfless. Too selfless, I might add. You could never do that!”
I’m stunned. I expected at least a bit of a grilling. I’d have settled for some stern disapproval followed by a reluctant acceptance. Paranoia forces me to double-down.
“But isn’t it unethical? Or something?”
She sighs.
“Oh love, I’m sorry to be blunt but it’s the twenty-first century and you work in a café.
Plus, it’s so hard to meet people nowadays.
Everyone says so! I’m not saying there aren’t bad people out there who do abuse their power, and unwanted advances are never okay, but I assume this is a mutual attraction? ”
“Yeah,” I admit, with a faint hint of pride. “Definitely mutual.”
“Well then! If you’re both consenting adults and you’re being as respectful as I know you will be, you don’t have anything to worry about. Goodness knows there’s enough badness in the world. You should let love blossom wherever it can!”
My turn to roll my eyes.
“Okay, love is a strong word. We’ve had one date.”
Mum lets out a little whoop of glee. “So you have been on a date with him! Okay, you have to tell me everything! Go.”
I can’t help but grin. “It was this morning. It wasn’t supposed to be a date, mind you. It just sort of turned into one by accident.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“Mum,” I sigh. “Yes. We kissed.”
She squeals. “Aww, that’s so cute! You’ll have to send me a picture of him. Is he handsome?”
“Yes. Unbelievably so.”
Mum sucks her teeth. “Well, you have that in common.”
“You’re my mum. You have to say that.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not true!”
The next few minutes whizz by as Mum asks all sorts of questions about Freddie and makes me give her a blow-by-blow account of our accidental date.
The more I talk, the better I feel about it all.
If Nel Harrison, whose opinion is worth her weight in coffee beans, says it’s okay, then I guess it’s okay.
By the time conversation drifts to Christmas plans and Mum and Dad’s recent trip down to London, I’ve made up my mind.
I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask Freddie out.
Properly. If I hadn’t already been through the most humiliating break-up ever this year, I’d be worried about the worst that could happen.
Instead, for the first time in ages, I’m not worried about anything.
All I want is to have him in my arms again.
And for the first time, I feel like I can.
Mum and I say goodbye, making loose plans for them to swing by the café in the next week or two, and I hang up the phone. Immediately, I draft a text to Freddie:
Hey Freddie, hope your shift is going well. Do you fancy dinner tonight? I can cook us something. It’d be lovely to see you again, if you’re free. Let me know. X
Hitting send, I set my phone down on the coffee table and get up to make myself a caramel latte as a reward for being a big, brave boy.
I’ve hardly gotten the milk out of the fridge when my phone buzzes. Practically throwing myself across the room, I snatch up the device to read Freddie’s reply.
Only the reply isn’t from Freddie.
It’s from Lara.
Perfect! I’ll swing by Cream & Sugar on Wednesday. See you then, Shauny. Xx