7. Katy
Chapter seven
Katy
“C ome with us,” Amie says. It’s not really a request, more of a demand. She’s ironing her work uniform in her kitchen, and I’m braiding Maisy’s hair as she shovels spoonfuls of Cheerios into her mouth. Friday mornings at the Caine house are often hectic. It’s the one day a week Amie’s mum works without fail, so when Amie is getting ready for work too, it can be a little chaotic. I often come over just to help her get ready to leave, if I’m not already at work myself.
Amie’s not working today, though, merely preparing for a flight on Sunday. Today is just a rare Friday off work, and I’ve planned a girls’ day with my best friend and my goddaughter. I can’t wait to spend the entire day with my favourite people.
“Where you goin’, Mama?” Maisy asks, mouth full of cereal and milk dribbling down her chin. I reach forward to pick up a damp washcloth from the table, cleaning her face with one hand as I hold onto the half-finished braid with the other.
“We’re all going! We’re going to a place called Mexico, Maisy Mouse.” Amie sets the iron down and begins to fold a dress. “Do you remember how Daddy and I told you about it? We’re gonna fly all the way there and have a little holiday.”
It’s not really a holiday for Amie. She has to work on both flights, only getting to relax on the layover between the outbound and return sectors, such is the glamorous life of cabin crew. But with a long layover over her birthday, and whilst Cam is home, she’s turning it into a little family trip. I can’t say I blame her.
“We go on a plane!” Maisy exclaims excitedly. She spoons another small pile of cereal into her mouth.
“I have to work. Besides, I’ll just be a third wheel. If you already have Cam and Maisy with you, why do you need me to come? Other than to give you a babysitter so you can sit on his fa—”
“Katy,” Amie growls. Her eyes flick from me to her daughter. “Can you not?”
I smirk, tying off one braid and moving to the other side of Maisy’s head.
“I know for a fact that you’ve barely taken any leave for over a year. And you definitely haven’t been further than Eastbourne since before Maisy was born. Cash it in, sis. Besides,” she continues. “I want you there. You deserve a break. You’ve always wanted to go to Mexico, and I have seventy-two whole hours there—over my birthday, no less. I want to spend some of that with my best friend. Cocktails by the pool, some tacos y tequila … I miss you, Katy-cat.”
I weave Maisy’s soft curls around my fingers.
“I feel like I never see you anymore,” I whisper. “You have Cam now, and you’re always flying…”
“Exactly. You could never be a third wheel. You’re always my sister-before-my-mister.” Amie switches the iron off and comes around the table, wrapping me in a hug. The soft, familiar scent of her apple shampoo fills my nostrils, washing over me like a comforting balm to soothe a tired soul. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent more than an hour or two of quality time with my best friend. It’s been even longer since I’ve done anything other than move back and forth between work and home. I could do with the break. Amie’s right. I deserve a holiday.
“Okay. Take me to Mexico.” I tie off Maisy’s second braid and adjust them neatly on her shoulders.
“Maisy Mouse, Aunty K is coming with us to Mexico!”
Maisy cheers through a mouthful of cereal, bouncing in her seat, and Amie squeezes my shoulders. A couple of days away with my favourite people is exactly what I need.
I feel lighter than I have for a while when I walk home from Amie’s house later in the afternoon. The last couple of weeks haven’t been without upheaval, but I’ve spent more time with my best friends since the start of the year than I have in the last several months combined. And there’s a new kind of hope blooming in my chest when I think of Jay and how I’m drawn to him, how easy it is to spend time with him.
It’s not like I’m expecting anything to happen. He’s my best friend’s brother, and she all but demanded we keep our romantic distance. But she didn’t forbid us from being friends with him… and I think I quite like being friends with Jay Bevan.
Lunch at Flights and Fancies has become a weekly event. We usually meet on a Sunday, but this week, we’ve brought it forward to Saturday, instead. Ruth thinks I’m mad for having a standing brunch date with her ‘grumpy brother’ but I think she’s secretly quite pleased that I’ve adopted Jay as a friend. I told her it’s because no one else will enjoy craft beer with me, and that’s partially true, but the more time I spend with him, the more I enjoy his company.
It helps that he’s attractive, sure, but it’s more than that. There’s something about him that calls to me. Something that draws me to him whenever he’s around. Something in that faraway, haunted look in his eyes. Even when he’s not in the best of moods, when he’s reliving whatever nightmares I’m sure he experienced overseas, something about him makes me want to know him. To see him. Something tells me he needs someone to see him for who he is. And for reasons I’m not sure I fully understand, I’m determined to be the one to do it.
I’ve been doomscrolling on social media while I wait, adding more new books to my to-read list. I’m just reading an especially juicy snippet where the girl is bent over the handlebars of her man’s bike when a shadow falls over the table, and I lock my phone immediately. That one will definitely have to wait for later.
Jay slides into the booth opposite me as I push my phone back into my bag and rest my arms on the tabletop, regarding him for a minute. Lo and Amie were right. He’s hot as hell. He’s all sharp angles like Ruth, with sculpted cheekbones and a long nose. Fashionably scruffy stubble covers the lower half of his face. His chest and shoulders are broad, stretching his fashionably-worn blue-grey sweater to perfection. And the way he fills out those jeans… it has me wondering what those strong thighs look like unclothed, what he’s hiding beneath the perfectly-fitted denim. I almost have to stop myself from drooling.
We’ve been working our way through the menu methodically, trying a new beer and baked goods flight on each visit, so I ordered the next items on the list while I waited. Our food arrives seconds after Jay does, and the scent of freshly baked sweets fills my nostrils. I breathe deeply, letting the aroma blanket me before I speak.
“So, I’m going to Mexico next week.” I pick up a small glass from the wooden board and bring it to my face, inhaling the hoppy fragrance before taking a sip.
“You’re—wait, what? Mexico?”
I offer the glass across the table and Jay takes it, scrunching his nose as he sniffs and then sips. He replaces the glass on the board with a sour expression and takes a gulp of water. I smirk. I quite like that one. But then again, I like a citrusy beer. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Jay Bevan over the last couple of weeks of beer flight brunches, it’s that he definitely does not .
“Yeah, Amie invited me. She’s there for her birthday. Long layover. Cam’s home that week so he and Maisy are coming too, but I think it’ll be nice to get away, even just for a couple of days. I’ve always wanted to go, and I love Mexican food.”
“How long is a couple of days?”
“Her layover is seventy-two hours, but that’s plenty of time to explore and eat enough tacos to make myself sick. Besides, I’ll probably be on Maisy duty for a good chunk of it, anyway.”
“Sounds nice, though. Maisy’s cute.” He slides the other wooden board closer and selects a cookie, tearing it in half and biting into the smaller piece. A crumb sticks to his lip and I find myself transfixed by it. I clench my fingers into fists below the table to stop myself from reaching out to brush it away. What I wouldn’t give to lick it from his lips.
“Yeah, she is…”
“You don’t sound especially excited,” he notes drily. He’s not wrong. I don’t sound excited. Am I being ungrateful? This is the opportunity of a lifetime, to cross the world—something I’ve done so rarely, but always enjoyed—and visit a new country with my best friend. Buck up, buttercup. I paste the smile back on my face.
“No, I am. I am! I’ve always wanted to go to Mexico. It’s just, Roo will be in Austin, and Lo has too many bookings to move around, so it’ll just be me and Amie… and her boyfriend and kid. I feel like a third wheel... a fourth wheel, maybe, since Maisy will be there too. I love them, you know? Cam is like a brother to me already. And I love Maisy like she’s mine, I love her so much and I’ll never say no to hanging out with her. She’s the best little kid, you know? But… I just see what they’ve got and I know it’s dumb and irrational but…”
I stuff a piece of cookie into my mouth and wash it down with another sip of beer.
“You want that too?”
How does he always know?
“Yeah,” I say on a heavy sigh. “I mean, I don’t want to be jealous of my best friend’s happiness. It’s fucking stupid, isn’t it? I want to be happy for her. I am happy for her. It’s just… fuck.” I run my fingers through my hair.
“Sometimes it feels like the world is standing still for me and spinning for everyone else. Do you ever feel like that? Like, everyone else is getting all these things that you’ve always wanted, things you can only dream of for yourself, and you just have to stand by and be happy while you watch it happen to them and not to you?”
Jay’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, considering my words before answering.
“I think I do,” he says after a few beats. “It’s not quite the same, but… I joined up willingly. I always wanted to join the army. I loved it. Mostly. But towards the end, I’d get jealous. I’d be jealous of guys getting their orders and shipping home. Even when they came home because they were injured, or even worse, because they were dead—I mean, fuck , who the fuck is jealous of someone because they’ve lost a leg or had their fucking head blown off? What kind of man does that? What kind of man, what kind of fucking monster does that make me?”
His volume rises as he reaches the end of his monologue, his breathing heavier. I reach out and grab his flailing hand across the table, squeezing his fingers tight. His eyes are wide and wild, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly with quick, steady breaths. I watch helplessly as his eyes begin to glaze over and he falls away from me, spiralling somewhere deep in a memory I can only imagine he doesn’t want to relive.
“A good man,” I say. “An honourable man. One who served his country and who was ready to come home. You’re a good man, Jay. What you saw, what you did—no one should have to do or see that shit. But you did, and I don’t blame you for wanting to forget it.”
His hand trembles in mine, and the strain on his face tells me he’s working hard to keep his breathing even and steady. I bring my other hand to the table, holding his trembling hand in both of mine. I hold his eyes and force my breathing to remain steady, silently encouraging him to match it. I never lose my grip—on his hand, his eyes, his breath. When we first met, something about him told me he needed me, and maybe this is the moment. It takes a minute, but his breathing finally slows and his face and shoulders relax. He flexes his fingers in my hand, twisting it to grab mine in his.
“Thank you,” he whispers. The mask has gone. Suddenly, he’s not Jay, the quietly guarded army veteran, my best friend’s brother anymore. He’s a beautiful, tortured, vulnerable man with eyes the colour of molten chocolate and depth to rival the oceans. I see Jay , the man.
And he makes my heart skip a beat.