Chapter 27
FLORENCE
‘There’s a parcel for you,’ says Laura as she comes into the café to start her shift. I note a glint in her eyes and a goofy smile across her face.
I take the small brown package from her and inspect the handwriting on the front. I don’t recognise it. ‘Strange – I’m not waiting for a parcel. How was Ronan?’
Laura giggles. ‘He was amazing.’
I arch my eyebrows. ‘Did your date end in his hotel room?’
She shakes her head. ‘He was lovely and didn’t want to rush things. Florence, when I say the man can kiss – his style was exquisite. Not like Vince’s washing machine impersonation.’
‘Sounds hopeful.’
‘His Irish accent is so sexy. He talked a lot in the Italian restaurant. I just wanted to take off my clothes and jump on him.’
We both laugh and head for the counter.
‘How was Molly?’
‘The perfect house guest,’ I say. ‘She went off to school this morning with a smile.’
Laura lets out a groan. ‘That’s more than I get.’
I recall what Clark advised Molly to do last night. ‘Why don’t you and Molly have a girlie shopping trip?’
Laura shrugs. ‘Maybe.’ She takes out her phone, already distracted by a notification. Her eyes widen and a pink flush blooms over her cheeks. ‘Ronan has sent me a saucy text.’
‘Wow – I thought you said you weren’t rushing things.’
She giggles. ‘Florence, I might have encouraged him when I got home, and we exchanged some spicy texts. It’s hard to go on a date with him and not get carried away with his beautiful accent and his muscular arms.’
I arch an eyebrow and she does a little celebratory dance.
Once she’s calmed down, she smiles. ‘Speaking of romance – how is Chris?’
I think back to his message before I went to sleep last night. It was a surprise as he’s gone a bit quiet over the last few days.
His message read:
You’re still my favourite plot twist.
Last night, while reading it, I did start to question why I was messaging a stranger. This is the first time I have thought this; I found myself comparing Chris to Clark, which was a shock.
Things have changed between Clark and me.
Every day he surprises me with something.
Yesterday it was all the work he did in the café and how he mentioned my mum being happy that we had finally done something my dad would have wanted.
I have never appreciated the fact that Clark and I grew up together and he knew my parents.
I love hearing him talk about Dad. I’m not sure I would want to date someone who doesn’t know my family.
There’s also the worry that Chris might be a weirdo.
Laura coos. ‘Can you imagine if Chris is not a stalker and is hot, handsome and into books?’
I nod as Clark’s face flashes up inside my mind.
Laura pulls me into a hug. ‘You deserve some happiness.’
I remember how Laura was a pillar of strength for me during that time.
When I was worried about how I was going to cope raising a child by myself, it was Laura who calmed me down with her warm hugs and beaming smile.
After I lost the baby, it was Laura who held me while I sobbed in the kitchen.
It was Laura who helped me sell the baby clothes I had bought.
If anything ever happened to me I would want her to know how appreciative I am of her support.
‘Thanks, Laura,’ I say as I pull apart.
‘For what?’ she says.
‘For being there for me after Ben and when I lost the baby.’
She rubs my shoulder. ‘We’re a team.’
I look down at the parcel. ‘Let’s open this.’
She hands me some scissors. ‘I wonder what it could be.’
A customer comes in and orders a flat white. Laura starts to make their drink.
I pull out a silver, glittery notebook, and I gasp. ‘Oh, wow. That’s so beautiful.’ A little note falls out with it. ‘Oh, Laura, it’s from Chris,’ I gasp as ripples of excitement go through me.
She arches an eyebrow. ‘He knows you work here?’
I nod. ‘It’s on my Instagram.’
‘Well, Florence, that’s a lovely gift.’ She passes the customer their coffee.
I hug the notebook. Maybe Chris does have potential?
Laura picks up the envelope and studies the postal label. ‘He’s posted it locally.’
Her eyes travel to the back cover of the notebook. ‘He’s been to Devon.’
‘What?’ I turn over the notebook and gasp. On the back, in swirly writing, is a label that says Pixie Cove Bookshop, Pixie Cove, Devon.
‘That’s strange. I know that place.’
Laura squeals. ‘Oh, I love it when the universe starts sending synchronicities. This is a sign, Florence. Chris could be legit.’
I glance at her excited face. ‘This is weird.’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s not. It’s a huge sign that you and Chris are meant to be. This is fate.’
Right on cue, a train screeches into the station.
Metal shrieks, the café windows rattle, and a peculiar feeling takes hold of me.
I look at the back of the notebook. Clark went to Pixie Cove the other day.
How weird is it that Chris has sent me a notebook from the same place?
Hang on – I was wondering how Clark knows about my book reviewing and yesterday I discovered he knew about my Instagram.
Chris, my mystery, book-loving crush, has something to do with Clark Fielding.
Is Clark secretly Chris?
An odd sensation in my gut answers that question for me.
If he is Chris, why is he doing this?
My heart begins to bang against my ribcage. Is this a sick joke of his? Has he been doing this to give me false hope about dating?
Hot, lava-like anger bubbles up inside of me. Clark has been catfishing me.
Laura is staring. ‘Your face is reddening, Florence. Are you okay?’
‘I’ll be in the kitchen,’ I say with gritted teeth.
Once in the privacy of the kitchen and with my back to the café, I feel a giant wave of emotion rise and crash over me.
I should have known Chris was too good to be true.
This is Clark’s attempt at a funny prank. I bet he and his friend, the one who looks like a walking loaf, have been laughing at me in the pub.
Anger courses through my body.
My mind kindly reminds me that I have a two-hour car journey with Clark this afternoon, and we’d agreed not to argue. That will not be happening. It will be hard to control my temper once I get in that car.
He’s so annoying.
Tears prick my eyes.
How could he do this to me? Does he hate me that much? I must be the laughingstock of the pub.
I wipe my wet cheeks.