30. Claire
30
The buttery smell of pastry does nothing to calm the storm swirling in my stomach as I sit, staring out the window of Sweet Escape.
I’m meeting Westley at eight to officially hand over the salon, but I barely managed a wink of sleep last night.
Leif left my bed just after two in the morning.
Over the last eight weeks that we’d been sleeping together, I never let him stay the night. Apart from the first night when I was getting my fill of the best sex I’d ever had, I made sure every other time stuck to the same rules I’d always set for myself with a casual partner.
Phone number, essential.
Names, not essential.
Sleepovers, absolutely not.
Never have I experienced the belly-hopping feeling of seeing a partner’s name pop up on my screen with a message.
Never have I said a partner’s name and had it feel so emotionally evoking.
Never have I hated waking up in my bed alone.
Any other time Leif has come around, it has been non-stop touching for pleasure. He wouldn’t leave my bed until we had gone for multiple rounds. Always getting our fill of each other.
But last night, we only did it that one time and then he held me tight in his arms, his fingers trailing across my skin in gentle admiration until he slipped out without a word.
I watched him dress, then he smiled at me, kissed my forehead, and left. Because that’s all I’ve ever let him have of me before.
“Do you want anything to eat, Claire?” Liv asks. “Or are you okay with your coffee?”
I look over my shoulder as Liv flicks her long brunette braid back over her shoulder.
A smearing of whatever sticky glaze she’d been working with shining on the apple of her cheek. I love the way she wears her creations every time I see her. I swivel on the stool to face her.
“I’m good with my coffee, but could I get a takeaway box of some goodies for the boys? I want to say thanks for all the work they did.”
“Sure, anything in particular?”
“I think Westley, my supervisor, visited a fair bit. Can you remember what his usual order was?” Blush floods her cheeks, making me smile. “I take it you’re familiar with Westley?”
Liv busies herself with assembling a pastry box and starts filling it with various treats. “He’s very nice, but I’m not looking to date at the moment.”
“Really?” I ask. “Is it okay to ask why you feel that way?”
Liv’s always so sweet. I feel like she’s got her shit together way better than I do. Maybe she can help my confused brain understand what I’m looking for in life and why it feels like every reason seems to point me to Leif.
She takes a deep breath and closes the pastry box. “A few years ago, my house was broken into. I was left for dead. Six weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. I don’t have all the answers from that night. In fact, I lost a lot of my memories from the year leading up to the accident. But, now that I have a daughter, she’s my only priority.”
Well, holy shit. Don’t my problems seem a bit dramatic in comparison?
“Fuck.” I gasp and shake my head. “Liv.” My eyes take in the bakery, making sure there’s no one close enough to hear my next words before I lean in closer to her. “Were you…?” I can barely think the word, let alone say it.
Understanding coats her features, and her eyes go wide as an owl. “Oh, no,” she quickly reassures me. “No, it turns out I was pregnant before the break-in. The trouble is, I don’t remember dating anyone before the accident, and none of my friends knew of anyone I’d been seeing or otherwise. My phone was taken during the break-in, and no one came around looking for me after that. I’m guessing I may have had a one-night stand, and that’s why no one came knocking. When Daisy was six months old, we moved here from Queens Coast for a new start.”
“I am in shock and awe right now. You run this bakery on your own and raise your daughter. If you ever need anything, you’ll tell me, right?”
Her cherub face is soft with a smile. “Thanks, Claire. My neighbour helps me a lot. There’s this little social group of older ladies on our street. They’re quite the rebel crew, actually.”
“Like the Golden Girls?”
“Oh my god! They are so the Golden Girls.” She laughs.
“Well, the offer stands. If you ever need anything, let me know.”
“Thanks, Claire.”
My watch lights up with a notification, an incoming text from Lex. I pick up my phone from where it sits on the bench that overlooks Main Street.
LEX: Okay, you were right. Sometimes yoga does jack shit to help your thoughts. What do I do?
Lex is normally the early riser in our household. Always waking with the sun and strolling down to the stretch of beach behind our house to set her daily intentions.
But this morning, it was me sitting on the couch before five a.m., coffee in hand—that was conveniently set up under the coffee machine before I woke up—and staring out the back window into nothingness. She took one look at me, said, “Yoga?” to which I nodded, and we both made our way down to the sand to stretch and contemplate.
We sat on the shore for a good half hour before she finally said, “I slept with my new boss.” She left to do a morning of intense Pilates to exhaust her body, but it clearly didn’t work.
ME: Tequila is the only way, babe
LEX: Bring me back an eclair
ME: LOL or pastries, I guess. Couch date tonight?
LEX: How about The Wayside?
ME: You’re suggesting a night out of drinking and dancing?!?! Where was this two months ago? Have we traded roles in life?
LEX: I need to see him.
I’m pulled back to the outside world when I notice a Connors Construction truck zooming past the window. It’s earlier than West said, but maybe he’s running early.
I throw my phone in my bag and pick up my coffee, then head over to the counter to pay for the goodies Liv boxed up for me.
“Can I grab one more éclair in a separate bag?”
“Of course.” Liv pops the dessert into a little box, the same powder blue as her shirt and all around the store, then rings up my total.
“Thanks, Liv. I’ll see you next week.”
I step outside the bakery into the warm air, the sweet smells from the florist next door dancing up the sidewalk.
A maudlin smile crosses my face as I think of the relief that my salon is finally complete, happiness for the next phase of my life, but also the finality of whatever had been between Leif and me. That chapter between us is over, but I’m apprehensive about closing the book.
I stop in front of the doors to the salon, staring through the windows, and think about my mum. My childhood. She raised me with strength and determination.
I think, in her head, if she wore her armour, it would speak to her resilience of not letting the hurt stop her. It would prove that as a single mother, she could raise me well, and we would both go through life as successful, independent women. I don’t think she saw the fact that by walking around with her shields raised, she was letting her hurt define her.
Being brave would have meant not letting the betrayals of my father keep her from experiencing all the things life offered. And life offers both hurt and happiness.
She trusted the wrong person, and it meant, in my life, I walked around without the ability to trust. Not even that. I have lived my life without ever giving someone the chance to earn it.
Leif wasn’t trying to earn it, though. He just turned up every time I asked and gave me his loyalty on a silver platter.
With every opportunity he had to get close to me, he kept stacking the platter with more offerings: his patience, his protection. He was vulnerable and upfront with me, challenging me to do the same and letting me know the safety of his open arms, there and ready to catch me when I decided to let go of my past hangups.
It makes me wonder if I had missed out on other opportunities to feel more because of the walls I’d built. But then I think, if anyone else wanted to do that, to be that with me, for me, then they would have tried. They would have kept showing up and being there even when I tried to push them away.
Leif is the only one who’s ever worked so hard to keep me.
I shake off the thoughts and pull the salon keys from my handbag to let myself in the front door.
The smell of paint still lingers in the air, and I make a mental note to buy some candles for the place.
I stand just inside the door of the salon, a weightless high taking over my senses as I absorb every little detail. The rose gold waterfall chandelier above the welcome desk, the off-white cabinetry set up along the makeup wall, and then all the little touches of Leif that somehow still feel like me.
The diamond laid tiles with the pink mosaic flowers dotted here and there, the peony wallpaper, the soft pink walls. Unspoken Love, it was called.
I leave the pastry box on the front desk and walk further into the room. Looking around the corner, I see the nail stations set up along one wall, another chandelier hanging in the centre, and the private treatment rooms along the other wall. At the very end are the huge barn doors—with their rose gold pull handles—painted in bubblegum pink. Romance pink.
With a smile, I move toward the room and open the doors to my beauty classroom.
Another chandelier sits front and centre, having the exact wow factor I was hoping for. What I wasn’t expecting, however, are the hundreds of flowers lining the workstations.
Vases completely cover the desks, full of roses in every colour. Holy shit. Tears burn my eyes as I think of Leif. This has his name written all over it.
“You’re here already!” Westley says from behind me.
I swipe under my eyes and plaster a smile on my face. “Was too excited to sleep.”
“I thought I’d have time to run over to Sweet Escape first.” He chuckles.
“I put a box of treats from Liv on the front desk for you to take back for the boys. A little thank you from me.”
“It’s been our pleasure, Claire. I’m looking forward to your opening party. I think all the boys are.”
“You’re all coming?” I ask, hoping he can vouch for Leif’s attendance.
I’m almost positive he will be there. He said he would be when we ran into each other last weekend, but I almost need someone else to say it.
“Oh, yeah, boss said everyone had to be there.” My heart punches against my chest with the confirmation. “Will any of the local business owners be attending?”
“Yep, tech guys upstairs, the florist, a few of the people from Chord and Coupe, and Liv, if she can get a babysitter, I guess.”
“I met her little girl a few weeks ago.” He smiles. “I’m going to be an uncle myself soon. I’ve been asking Liv about being a single mum. My sister’s in the same boat.”
Oh, maybe he hasn’t been flirting. He was asking for his sister.
“That’s nice. Sorry your sister’s going through it alone. Liv definitely seems like a good go-to person for that.”
“She’s a real sweetheart, so willing to answer all my questions. Even passed on her number for me to give to my sister. Lee’s been a great support, too. Let me take off a few weeks back to go visit her.”
My chest goes off like fireworks at the mention of his name. It’s not my name. Leif. But then I remember what his sister said. Only family calls him Leif. Everyone else calls him Lee. Why did he tell me to call him something that was meant for only his closest people? I can’t ignore all the ways that man constantly puts himself out there for me. Even when I didn’t give him the same back.
“Anyway,” Westley interrupts my mental turbulence, “we should do your walk-through and get this baby handed over to you.”
We walk through the salon from the front to the back, inspecting all the walls, fixtures, and fittings. We make sure everything works properly and there’s no damage from when various trades have been working throughout the space.
We save the kitchen for last, and I’m surprised, yet again, when I see a pink coffee machine sitting on the bench. A white mug with gold ‘boss lady’ embellished on the front sits under the filter with a bag of red licorice beside it.
“I can’t believe you found a pink coffee machine.” Westley laughs. “It already looks like Barbie threw up in here.”
“I didn’t put that there.” But I know who did. The same guy who’s imprinted himself in every step of this project. He’s conquered the barren wasteland that used to be my heart. Now it’s in full bloom.