Chapter 4
Cece
“What’s going on?” Ada mutters into her pillow before cracking an eye. “Wait, what’s that smell?”
I smile down at my very hungover friend, stunning even in this state. “Do you want a potato?”
“Yes, please.”
“Good, because I’ve brought something I prepared earlier.” I produce from behind my back a couple of baked potatoes, their crispy skins covered in half a block of grated cheddar cheese. They’re not what I would choose for breakfast, but I know my friend back to front.
Ada sits up, reaches for the potatoes, then stops herself. “Why have you made me this delicious snack?”
My insides wriggle. I was hoping she’d eat first and fall into a cheese-induced coma before we actually got to this part.
“Because I love you.”
“Cecelia Anne Taylor...”
I draw in a deep breath for courage. “I think we should go to the centenary.”
Ada barks out a laugh. “Fuck no.”
“Come on. It could be fun?”
“It will not be fun. It will be a consortium of dickrags simping over their glory days while drinking prison-toilet-grade Chardonnay.”
“Okay, yes, that might be the case, but I still think we can have fun if we go together.” And for other Will-related reasons.
I edge the plate of cheese-melting potato goodness forward, as if coaxing a scared animal from a cage. “Don’t you want to show everyone how you’re the most talented…”
I move the plate closer. “Most gifted…”
Closer still. “Most successful…”
The plate is now inches from Ada’s folded arms, her eyes laser-beam focused on the steaming carbs. Her lips are slightly parted, and I can almost see her salivating.
“No,” she says, recoiling up the bed. “The only reason anyone in Pukekohe would care about my music is as a way to platform jokes about me shoving a flute up my twat. You’re not telling me something. Why are we really having this conversation?”
Goddammit. I can never hide anything from this woman. But she’s right, twenty-four hours ago, I would have rather shat in my hands and clapped than go to our high school reunion.
I exhale, sitting on the side of the bed. “I… Will Sharpe is single.”
Ada’s laughter fills the room. “There it is.”
“Please don’t,” I whisper, my cheeks blazing hot. “I’m being ultra-vulnerable here.”
“What you’re being is bonkers. You were gonna drag me all the way to Pukekohe on the weak promise of fun instead of just telling me you wanted legacy dick?” She shakes her head. “Honesty is the best policy, Cecelia.”
I feel a burst of home. “So you’ll come?”
“Hard no. Will Sharpe is a pants-shitting turbo loser, and you’re too good for him. But I respect the request. Now, please give me the potato and reevaluate your sexual urges.”
“Ada, come on! I know you don’t like Will—”
“Wrong. I hate that cunt. He threw an apple at me on the side field, remember? He got me in the back of the head?”
“You don’t actually know it was him.”
“I do. Also, best-case scenario, he still stood there laughing as one of his mates threw an apple at me. Is that better?”
It’s my turn to fold my arms. “No. Yes. I don’t know. What I do know is that he was a bit of a classic rugby guy—”
“Sadistic fuckbag.”
“—back then,” I continue, determinedly. “But that was a long time ago. Will’s really sweet, and I know you haven’t seen that side of him, but I have. Anyway, I can’t help the way I feel.”
“The way your pussy feels, more like.”
“Ada, please!” I beg. “What I’m saying is if my feelings haven’t gone away in fifteen years, maybe it’s time to act on them?”
She doesn’t say anything as she reaches for the plate.
I study her as she picks up a piece of potato and takes a bite.
Even hungover, even eating, with melted cheese all over her fingers, she’s gorgeous.
All eyes and lips and tits. The kind of woman guys would throw their wedding rings into a volcano to spend the night with.
Ada hasn’t known what it’s like to have an unrequited obsession since high school.
As soon as she left Pukekohe—where she was too intimidating for anyone to shoot their shot with—she’s been able to get whoever, whenever.
A lump forms in my stomach. Of course my best friend isn’t going to come to the reunion with me. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have the memory of one guy give you butterflies all the way through your twenties and into your thirties. It’s pathetic.
I’m pathetic.
But I’m pathetic enough to believe maybe it could be different now, without Tristan around, making me feel like a weird side character in his life.
Now Will and I are older, and Jenny’s shown her true colours, he might see me in a whole new light—as a hot, fully-grown woman and a successful business owner.
I’m not, obviously. But I can appear that way.
Nobody knows the bar’s finances are in the garbage except me.
Especially not Ada. She’d flip her lid if she knew I hadn’t paid myself a salary in almost a year.
That I’ve been living off the nursing money I haven’t already poured into the business.
If I told her, she’d be on her banking app making lump payments into my account before I finished the first sentence, but that would defeat the purpose of why I took over the bar.
I need to make this work myself. To prove to myself I can do it.
So what if it’s taking a little longer than expected?
I’ll get to a life where I don’t hyperventilate over bank statements eventually.
But for now, I just want people to see me the way I already see Future Me, glamorous and competent and sexy.
I want Will to see me that way.
Tears brew in the corners of my eyes. I turn my face to the sagging ceiling, blinking hard. Jesus. I thought I was feeling pathetic before, and now I’m crying?
“Cece,” Ada says calmly. “I get that people do stupid things for sex. I’m the last person who’d judge you for that. But Will Sharpe sucks hole.”
I scrub at the saltwater leaking across my cheeks. “Sure. Fine. That’s totally fine. We won’t go to the reunion.”
“Cece…”
I attempt a sunny smile. “So where were you last night? Did you get revenge on all the stags?”
Ada’s not willing to play along. “You look like a sad kitten.”
“I’m not sad,” I lie, swiping a stray tear. “This is hay fever. Seriously, where were you? I was worried. I couldn’t get to sleep until I heard you come in.”
She sighs. “I hooked up with Jake.”
My mouth falls open. I assumed she was starting fires or digging shallow graves or making voodoo dolls—anything but screwing one of the stag-party stags. “You mean… Jake Graves-Holland?”
She rolls her eyes. “God, what is with his name? Like, just fuckin’ pick one, hey?”
“You fucked Jake Graves-Holland?”
“Yuh-huh.”
“How… How was it?”
She shrugs. “I’ve had better.”
“Oh, poor Jake. Was he nice to you?”
“Yeah, I guess. Look, he was fine. And he’s still alive.
And so are the rest of the lad-pack, so there’s no need to worry.
” Ada puts the plate aside and crawls towards me, studying me closely.
“You really want to go to this reunion, don’t you?
Even though none of those people deserve to clap eyes on the most beautiful bar owner in all of Aotearoa? ”
We stare deep into each other’s eyes, like we’ve done a thousand times before. “I… Yes."
“I see.” Ada sighs again. “Well, since you’ve helped me out for months and you’re my oldest and, let’s face it, only friend, the least I can do is accommodate your baffling sexual impulses.”
My heart swells like a hot air balloon. “Ada! You don’t mean—”
“I do.” An answering smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “You know I can’t say no to your sad kitten face.”
I squeal, wrapping my arms around her.
“I have two conditions,” Ada says loudly into my hair.
I release her. “Name them! Anything you want!”
“One,” she holds up a finger. “I will be using this reunion as an opportunity to wreak havoc on those who wronged me.”
I hesitate. I don’t want another repeat of last night’s stag party. Still, Ada’s going to do what Ada’s going to do, and at least this way she’s going to do it at the reunion with me. “Okay.”
“Your lack of enthusiasm has been noted and will be monitored. Two,” she holds up another finger. “You have to let me buy you some clothes.”
“No!”
“Fuck off, ‘no.’ You said I could name my conditions, and those jeans look like you found them in a charity bin. For wine mums.”
The excitement that flooded through me a moment ago evaporates.
I look down at my high-waisted jeans. I did get them as a ‘thanks for shopping here so much’ freebie from the Salvation Army store, so I don’t have much to argue with.
I haven’t bought new clothes since I took over Afterglow.
And even when I was nursing, I wasn’t exactly spending big.
I think I have one nice dress that still fits and doesn’t have armpit stains.
Not exactly the best starting point for glamorous, competent, and sexy.
This is how she sees you, a charity case that needs handouts, a nagging voice whispers. “Ada, I don’t—”
“If you want me to come, then those are my terms, Cecelia. Take them or leave them.”
Will Sharpe. Officially separated. And Ada agreed to come with me to the reunion...
I inhale. “One outfit.”
“Five.”
“Three.”
“Deal. And new shoes,” Ada says, studying her lilac nails. “And you’re getting your hair done. And a manicure. And a pedicure. And a bag that hasn’t spent the majority of its life carrying garlic home from Woolworths.”
The thought of all that money being spent on me makes my skin itch, but I know Ada’s not messing around. Expensive body wash, indoor plants and elegant wine glasses have already ‘appeared’ in my apartment since she got here.
“Fine,” I grind out. “I mean, if wasting money on me really doesn’t matter to you.”