What sort of fucked-up dumpster fire was Cherry Paradise’s so-called life?
Chapter 7
Sean
‘Morning!’ At 8 a.m., Sean was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast and belting out a Dolly Parton song when he glanced up to see Cherry pad downstairs – a little sleep tempered but luminous, nonetheless, in black jogging bottoms and a well-worn Poker Winners t-shirt. Her hair was tumbled up in a messy bun, but she’d applied some light make-up. Or not removed yesterday’s.
‘You seem happy, Seany.’ Cherry glanced into the scrambled egg pan before landing upon the spread of veggies on the kitchen island. ‘This is healthy.’
‘I’m always happy, Cher.’ This was true. Sean was a genuinely upbeat person, grateful for his lot in life, despite recent loss. ‘And I’m trying to be a better cook, despite still recovering from the disaster that was Scrambled Eggs Whisky Irn-Bru.’
She laughed. ‘Sounds…um…’
‘Like a shocker? Aye, nobody needs that. Nobody. Take a seat, and I’ll bring you something nicer.’
Cherry tentatively seated herself at the table, and Seanbrought her a glass of orange juice and a plate near overflowing with scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns and spinach.
‘Hope you like all that stuff. Most of it was in the freezer, but I’m a bit low on supplies.’ With a plate of his own, he sat opposite her. Was she thinking about yesterday? What was she thinking? She was acting like there was nothing wrong, but it may be just that – an act. He hoped so. Because if she was fine and dandy with the annulment then that meant the end, but with hope of her pretending came a chance of saving their marriage.
‘I love it all.’ Cherry held her fork over the plate. ‘I don’t know where to start. Do you always do mornings hotel-breakfast style?’
‘Nah. Except on the weekend after I’ve been surfing. I figured, after all the travel, you might want a decent meal. And I need to start eating healthy for the Kintyre Way.’
‘Bad habits?’
‘Kind of. When I’m at work, I’ll grab a BLT from the shop, telling myself it’s healthy ’cause it’s got lettuce in it. Then add on some chocolate and Irn-Bru. And I’m surrounded by lads doing the same thing, so it’s become a habit. At home, I try to cook something decent – a bit of a drag when I’m exhausted after work and surfing or training.’
‘How many miles are you cycling again?’
‘A hundred... You want to come?’
Cherry lifted a shoulder into half a shrug. Sean regretted suggesting she commit to something else with him when she wanted out of the first thing.
‘Sorry... Listen...’ He hoovered over the awkwardness. ‘I’m going to lay it on the line here.’
‘You are? At 8 a.m.?’
‘Aye, I’m a “lay it on the line at 8 a.m.” type of guy.You’ll find that out if you stay married to me for long enough, which is what I want to talk to you about.’ It was stupidly early to embark on this conversation, but Sean had a fitful night’s sleep and wanted the swarm of thoughts in his brain to calm down. Fuck off, preferably. However, in the swell of last night’s insomnia, an idea had appeared that might buy them some time and some hope.
Cherry chewed hurriedly on a piece of hash brown. ‘I can be out of here this morning if you show me where the bus stop is.’
‘What? Don’t be daft. You literally got here last night. Why leave today?’
‘I don’t know. It didn’t seem right saying goodbye yesterday.’
‘Or you didn’t want to?’
Her wide-eyed expression suggested he’d hit the nail on the head. ‘Yeah, I didn’t want to, but nothing has changed overnight.’
If that meant her feelings about him then it was a good thing.
‘Okay, I’ve been thinking, and I have a proposal for you. Only this one’s a bit different.’ Sean put down his cutlery, threw back some orange juice and cleared his throat like he was about to deliver the groom’s speech he never got to. ‘Look, for some reason, you’re here. You could have stopped at your mum’s, but you stayed in the car for five hours – even if you did ignore me by sleeping most of the time – and now we’ve spent our first night under the same roof as husband and wife. I won’t pressure you to stay married, but I have a suggestion. It might be something you can work on while the annulment or whatever is coming through.’
Cherry laid her fork on her plate. ‘Hit me, hubby.’
Jesus!‘That kind of talk is practically foreplay, so stop it. Wifey.’
‘Sorry.’ She glanced down at the remainder of her breakfast and returned to him, seemingly composed. ‘Tell me your idea please. Sean.’
