‘I wasn’t trying to…’ Callie stopped. ‘I don’t know what I’m trying to do, actually.’
Mae couldn’t think of a response to that. It was better she didn’t. Her mouth had done enough damage as it was.
Another silence followed.
Callie sighed. ‘Would it be better if I went?’
‘Yes,’ Mae said. She meant it. This was no good.
Callie nodded. ‘If that’s what you want.’ And she stood and walked out.
Mae kept sitting on that couch, thinking,How the hell am I right back here?
Back Then
On the way home, Mae’s feet didn’t touch the ground.
Her whole body felt fizzy, light, as if something heavy she’d been lugging around for years had quietly dropped off somewhere between the bakery and their tree.
But she was not stupid. She knew this changed everything. You didn’t go on a date with your best friend under your childhood tree and kiss them like that, and then go back to ‘mate, can you pass me the remote’ as if nothing had happened. And with the change came risk. She’d gambled everything on this. That was a frightening thought.
But she wasn’t looking her fear in the eye. She was letting it sit in the corner of her vision, ignored. She was letting herself have this feeling. This love.
She smiled so much on the walk back that two separate neighbours gave her suspicious looks. At one point, she caught sight of herself in the post office window and almost didn’t recognise the dopey, moon-faced idiot reflected there.
‘Pull yourself together,’ she muttered, cheeks hurting.
She went up to the flat. The shop was shut for the day. The clatter downstairs told her that her dad was still tidying up.
Mae desperately wanted to go to her room and lie on her bed and replay every second of her afternoon before any of it could fade. But then she heard the thud of stairs, and the front door swung open.
‘Oh good, you’re back,’ her dad said, wiping his hands on a tea towel. He was still in his apron, hair flattened with sweat. ‘I was just about to come looking.’
‘You’d have had to send a search party,’ Mae said. ‘I’d emigrated to ten minutes away.’
‘Did Callie enjoy the food?’
‘Mmm. Thanks for that.’ She didn’t want to say more. She wasn’t ready to.
‘You’ve got grass in your hair, love.’
She reached up, felt a stray stalk, and yanked it free, cheeks heating.
‘There’s some cake left if you’re hungry,’ he said. ‘That lemon drizzle that didn’t sell.’
‘Their loss.’
‘Quite. Before you disappear, can we have a quick chat?’
She swallowed. ‘About what?’
‘Let’s have a cuppa,’ he said, already heading for the kitchen.
She followed him. Her bedroom door, second on the left, called to her as they passed. She resisted the urge to dart in and barricade herself in with her silly grin and her memories.
In the kitchen, her dad was filling the kettle. Real life was coming calling, she could smell it.
She sat down at the table.
