Chapter 2 WESTLEY
“Are you sure you don’t have any other dating prospects besides a single mum who wears more flour than face powder?” Liv asks.
I chuckle as I look down at my friend where she leans against the front counter in Sweet Escape.
“I’m sure, Liv. Please?”
She scrunches her nose, visible with indecision.
“I don’t think you’ve mentioned dating anyone in the five months since I’ve known you.
Are you even trying?” She picks up a flat piece of pale blue cardboard and starts folding the sides, fashioning it into a pastry box.
“I’m just your lazy little back-up, aren’t I?
” She tutts. “No more beignets for you.”
“You’re one to talk. I haven’t seen you give attention to anyone who walks in this place, and there are plenty of men who vie for it.”
“You know why that is,” she mutters quietly.
Yeah, I do know. Over the past few months, Liv and I have formed an open and honest friendship. She’s helped me understand how I can be there for my half-sister, who unexpectedly became a single mum, and I’ve learned that Liv has no idea who her daughter’s father is.
Liv was the victim of a home invasion that not only left her comatose, but also waking up with retrograde amnesia.
She has no recollection of the twelve months leading up to her attack, including any romantic partners she may have been with.
Thankfully, doctors confirmed her conception date as being well before the attack.
But that means there’s someone out there walking around, not realising they have a daughter.
And a woman who’s desperate to find him.
I finish tightening the screw on her new door latch, tuck the screwdriver back in my toolbelt, then close the door, making sure it stays in place this time.
“All fixed,” I say, picking up the rubbish I left and dumping it in the bin.
“Thanks for doing that so quickly. When I called you this morning, I didn’t mean you had to drop everything and come right over.” She chuckles.
I brush my hands over my work pants and attempt to casually look out the front window in the direction of Parlour Tricks.
My boss, Lee, is dating the owner of the excessively pink beauty salon.
The one I supervised the complete renovation of, finishing up a few weeks ago.
I could tell myself that’s why I’m looking over there now.
In reality, it’s because that’s where the dark-haired beauty escaped to.
The one with deep chocolate eyes, as decadent as the cocoa scent that seemed to float off her skin as she passed me.
“Westley?” I feel my cheeks burn from the knowing curiosity laced in Liv’s call.
“Sorry. What?”
Liv looks out the window, following where my distraction lies before smirking back at me. “That was Maevyn. Claire’s new manager.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Maybe you should ask her to be your date for the wedding.”
I throw my head back with a groan as I stomp out of the service area to the customer side of the counter, picking up the cappuccino she made for me.
A little blue box filled with a few beignets sits beside it.
“You can’t start dating someone, and after a few weeks, ask them to be your plus one for a wedding. Jesus, I’m not that desperate.”
“Why don’t you just go alone? Didn’t you say you’ve known most of the people going since high school?”
“Because I already RSVP’d with a plus one. And yes, there will be a lot of people from high school, including my ex.”
Liv leans against the counter, a conspiratorial look in her blue eyes. “Are you still holding a candle for your high school girlfriend?”
I shake my head. “We never dated in high school. We reconnected at our ten-year reunion. But she’s my… ex-fiancée.”
Her mouth drops, eyes darting behind me before she leans in closer. “You were engaged?”
It’s been five years since Phoebe and I ended.
What started as a whirlwind romance fizzled out just as quickly.
We got caught up in the honeymoon phase, completely bypassing the foundation of any good relationship.
Communication. We were engaged after only three months.
We’d briefly touched on having a family one day, but I didn’t realise the logistics of how that came about were destined to be our breaking point.
I had a vasectomy when I was twenty-five, well before Phoebe and I got together. I was adopted as an infant, and I always imagined doing the same thing, giving a kid a chance in life they wouldn’t have had otherwise. Just like my parents did for me.
Phoebe was determined to carry her own children, and I completely understood that. At first, we each tried to get the other to see our point of view, but then it turned to resentment and anger, both too set in our ways.
After one particularly bad fight, she stormed out, and I didn’t see her again until late the next morning.
She came back a mess, completely shattered as she confessed she’d slept with someone else.
She’d gotten so drunk the night before, so down on everything that felt out of her control, that she sought comfort in a stranger.
I didn’t hate her for it, only hated that we’d caused ourselves hurt for so long. We were never meant to work.
I’ve bumped into her a few times over the years, the last time being at a mutual friend’s thirtieth birthday party.
We were getting along, and it kinda felt like closure, which was a relief after such a messy breakup.
But then we both got too drunk and ended up in bed together.
I regretted it, but only because the next day, it was as though she thought sleeping together had erased all the hurt and reality of why we split to begin with.
She thought it meant we could magically get back together.
Since then, I’ve spent a lot of time getting right with myself and reflecting on what I want in a relationship. I won’t rush into anything again, and open communication is paramount.
I’m worried I’m going to see her at this wedding and accidentally mislead her just by being nice. It’s been three years since that night, but I’ve been riddled with anxiety since I got the damn invitation. That’s why I need to bring a date. A line of defence.
“Yeah,” I grunt. “It wasn’t a long engagement. Wasn’t a particularly long relationship either. We rushed into it too quickly, before we had a chance to really know each other.”
Liv twists her lips, her body melting on the spot as her resistance wavers, then she groans. “Let me see if I can figure out a sitter for Daisy, and I’ll go with you.”
A grin breaks out on my face, and I lean over the bench, collecting my pastry box before dropping a quick peck on her cheek. “You’re the best.”
“That’s what they tell me.”
I laugh as she follows me out the front door.
“I spoke to Callie yesterday,” Liv says, mentioning my baby sister. “She said she’s thinking of moving to the city?”
Callie lives in Trevally Falls, a small oceanside town south of the city, with our brother, Caspian.
I move to the back tray of my ute, unlocking the utility boxes and stowing the tools in their organised places.
“Yeah.” I nod. “With Derek out of the picture now, she feels like she’s got a chance to really start over. Why not do that in a new place?”
I unbuckle my toolbelt, dumping it in the footwell behind my driver’s seat. Patch has already moved to the front, knowing we’re taking off.
“I told her if she wanted a roommate, I’d be happy to clear out my spare room for her.”
I pause, arse half perched on my seat. “Really? I already offered her the spare room in my place. I figured she might need some help in the first few weeks after the baby’s born.”
“You’re a good brother, West. I just thought I’d put it out there, one new mum to another. I remember what it was like doing it alone.”
“That’s real nice of ya, Liv.” I reach a hand up, squeezing her bicep. “I appreciate it. Truly.”
“Secretly, I’m hoping it earns me free handyman work whenever I need it.” She winks, throwing her head back with a laugh as she walks back into the bakery.
I’m shaking my head as I swing on my seat and bring the engine to life, ready to head onto the next job. Before I can pull away, I glance over to Claire’s salon.
I haven’t dated anyone since Phoebe. I’m not sure it’s a great idea to date anyone now with the wedding coming up; it’s too close to know if anything new has the chance to turn serious, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t got me curious.
I reach for my phone in my back pocket, pulling up a chat with Lee.
ME:
Just leaving Sweet Escape, I’ll be at Smoke and Barrel in twenty.
I chew on my lip as I hesitate to send what I really want to say.
ME:
Met Claire’s new manager…
LEE:
thumbs-up-emoji Have you got a print out of the latest plans with you? Jem messed up the ones we have on site.
JEREMY:
That donut had far too much jam!
“Ohh, fuck me.” I groan as I run a palm down my face, realising I texted our group chat instead of one with just Lee.
Maybe Jem didn’t notice I asked about a woman.
He has some weird radar when it comes to this shit.
He plays the aloof jokester, but really, nothing gets past him. Especially when it comes to women.
JEREMY:
Wait, go back. New manager? Why u asking? She hot?
JEREMY:
No response. Interesting.
ME:
Fuck off. I’m driving.
JEREMY:
Then stop being a naughty boy and put your phone away.
ME:
FYI I was bringing beignets, but the third one has somehow gone missing…
I toss my phone on the passenger seat and start to pull away.
When I look across the road again, I swear I can see the silhouette of a woman staring right back at me.
But maybe my mind is playing tricks on me.
Shake it off, West. She was just unexpected, that’s all.
And beautiful. Intriguing. There’s no need to lose your head.
I won’t rush things ever again with a woman; slow and steady is my focus. Won’t get caught up in a whirlwind. Next time, it needs to be something real.