Chapter 23 #2
Lucas opened his mouth, closed it again.
A lump rose in Clem’s throat at his hesitation, and she fought it down, doing her best not to cry.
This was her fault for misjudging him and messing things up.
She couldn’t expect things to go smoothly now, not least because she’d admitted Sylvie had entered the contest for her.
Or maybe it had nothing to do with that, and everything to do with Genie.
‘Now we really have run into each other again, but you’re hesitating . . . I can see it. Is it because of Genie? She likes you,’ said Clem, swallowing down the lump again, harder this time – it wouldn’t stay gone. It was hard to speak around it.
‘It’s nothing to do with her,’ said Lucas. ‘I’ve already told her she’s like a sister to me.’
‘Then what? It sounds like we both liked each other. I definitely liked you and . . .’ She sucked in a breath. ‘Is it because we’re competing, or because I messed up?’
He watched Misha roll around on the rug, pushing her stripes into the fabric – the only happy party in the room. Lucas looked conflicted, the frown on his face never shifting.
‘No, it’s nothing you did. Misunderstandings happen.
It’s just . . . I have to help my parents,’ he said, sounding strained.
‘I can’t get distracted – by anything. And I think maybe this .
. .’ He gestured vaguely between them. ‘I don’t know, it’s not the right time.
I just wanted you to know I wouldn’t lie to you. ’
‘Okay. Well, thanks for coming,’ Clem told him, turning away, fighting against that lump in her throat again. Her vision became clouded with tears and she had to blink them away rapidly.
‘I’m sorry. It’s . . . it’s too important. My parents need me.’
His words hung in the air before she replied. ‘Do your best in the contest. Once it’s done, we don’t have to see each other again, if that’s what you want.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ he said, sounding utterly tortured. ‘I need to focus right now. On the contest.’
‘What about after the contest?’
‘I . . . I don’t know.’
She didn’t look back to see his expression and she didn’t reply, because she feared she would burst into tears in front of him if she did. Clem heard him tug open the door, his footsteps vanishing outside, the door closing with a thunk behind him.
*
The next day, after spending an ungodly amount of time on the sofa on Sunday being a sloth – and definitely not the cute kind – Clem went to work at Catpurrcino.
The weather was sunny, and birds were singing out tunes in the trees and winging their way across eggshell-blue skies.
The cherry tree was no longer in bloom outside Catpurrcino and Clem missed the sight of its vibrant pink petals scattered everywhere like sweets.
Still, today seemed more positive, possibly because of the sunshine and the crying she’d done, as if she’d purged everything she’d been feeling lately.
Maybe she could put Lucas behind her. It was for the best, she told herself.
A small part of her resisted the thought, wondering what could have happened if things had been different.
Inside the main room, the café was fairly quiet, as it usually was on a Monday – an elderly couple were enjoying a pot of tea by the window.
Most of the cats were sleeping, tucked away in alcoves around the café.
Salem bounded over to her to be stroked when she crossed the room, and she smiled, bending down to tickle him behind the ears and along his silky black fur.
The scent of brewed coffee hung in the air, tickling her nostrils.
Emmie was behind the counter, leaning against it, on her phone. Her hair was scooped up off her neck with a cat-shaped claw clip. She looked up when Clem pushed her way through the gate and smiled. ‘Hey, Clem,’ she said. ‘Thought I’d check my own socials, as it’s so quiet in here today.’
‘How’s it going?’
‘Really good,’ Emmie said, turning the screen round to show her a pink illustration of a strawberry shortcake with a cat’s white head poking from the top.
‘People like the illustrations of cats that look like cakes. I’ve been reposting them during the contest and I must have attracted some of the Whisked Away fans. ’
‘Glad to be of service,’ said Clem.
She still remembered Emmie asking her last year if it would be okay to do this – merge Clem’s cat-themed baking with her illustrating.
Emmie’s art had been taking off online since she’d launched a web shop with her boyfriend Jared’s help and started filming art progress videos, but Clem was glad the contest was bringing her more attention as well.
She deserved it. She’d been talking about dropping her hours to part-time, which was why Sylvie had hired Matt as a new barista, although he only worked a day or two at the moment.
‘I should make you a – oh . . .’ She trailed off, looking over Clem’s shoulder as the door to the café opened.
Clem turned. A couple had entered the door – a tall, portly man with a rounded belly and a sheen of sweat on his head, who was walking with a stick. There was a shorter woman at his side, her face creased with concern as she struggled to open the latched gate for him.
Hurrying across to them, Clem said, ‘Here, let me help you.’ She tugged open the latched gate, so the man could hobble through. The woman, wearing a pink top and a pair of shorts, followed.
‘Thank you so much,’ said the woman.
They both looked . . . oddly familiar. The woman had green eyes, the colour of grass, with a delicate shape to her nose.
And the man with her – even though his hair was completely grey, right down to each strand on his beard, it had the same messy and mussed-up quality as Lucas’s, and his brows were equally thick. They had the same jawline, too.
‘You must be Clem,’ said the woman, touching her arm. ‘I’m Meredith. This is Richie.’
‘You know me . . . ?’ Clem began.
‘Of course!’ Meredith’s smile widened. ‘We’ve been watching Whisked Away , and Lucas has told us all about you.’