He nodded. “Yep, I understand. I picked a fight with a friend over a girl once. I was fourteen and thought we’d be in love forever.”
CeCe tried to imagine Luka as a fighter and failed. “No way.”
“It’s true. Broke my little finger.” He held it up so she could see the bend. “And you’ve met my mother—she’s all about peace, love, and mung beans. She was furious.”
“Well, you can hardly blame her.” CeCe sat forward in her chair. “Anyway, I should let you get back to your day.”
They both stood and walked to the door. As they stepped onto the gravel driveway, she turned to look at him. “Thank you for the tea.”
“My pleasure. And thanks for the cake and book.”
CeCe glanced away, stalling, and when she looked back, a thickness constricted her throat.
“What are you doing here? Really?” Luka asked, a frown settling on his forehead.
Tears threatened, but she was determined not to let them fall. “I came to say thank you.” She swallowed hard. “As I said. But…”
He reached for her hand. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“Is it? Up there in that hut, all alone with nothing but my crazy thoughts for company, you were on my mind. A lot. And then, there you were, kind and gentle and…well, I felt so small and insignificant. Like my dreams were unimportant and that all the hours I’d poured into my business had stopped me from seeing the big picture. Robbed me of my emotional focus.
“And now, I have no clue what life’s about. Why are we here? To run on an endless treadmill, trying to keep up while we pretend everything’s okay?” She swiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffed.
“I was so scared, Luka. Scared I’d never see you again, or that if I did, you’d be like this—aloof and indifferent—and that makes me so terribly sad. Sadder than the day you left Tulloch Point—the day you stood on your driveway and told me I shouldn’t be there.”
She rummaged in her bag for a tissue and pulled it free. Wiped her eyes. “And I wish we could go back to Sandwater Bay, eat burgers and fries out of a brown paper bag, and swim naked in the river. I wish we could live like there’s no tomorrow and love like there is.”
“CeCe, it’s okay,” he repeated, so softly she hardly heard him.
She looked up at him and dropped her sunglasses into place. “No, it’s not okay. And it never will be.”
“Hey, come here.” He reached for her, but she pulled away, climbed into her car, and drove off.
* * *
Luka stayed in CeCe’s head on the drive home, and as she turned left into Lime Tree Hill’s driveway, she failed to stem the tears.
Other than Pixie, who rushed to her side as soon as she walked through the bottom door, the packing shed was empty.
Tayla had texted earlier to say she’d left some moussakain the oven, and as she climbed the stairs, a wave of garlic greeted her. Now she was on maternity leave, Tayla’s nesting instincts had increased tenfold, and it made CeCe smile for the first time that day.
CeCe turned on the TV and flicked through to her favorite music channel. Then, with her hands covered in oven gloves, she removed the small casserole dish and set it on the cooktop. She grabbed a fork from the drawer and took a small mouthful, but when the heat of it burned her tongue, she left it to cool, planning to return to it later.
Although just after seven, all CeCe wanted was to crawl into bed. She shuffled into the bathroom and filled the tub as Pixie fussed around her. Lying in a hot bath minutes later, she picked up her phone, unlocked it, and scanned her texts.
Luka:I don’t mean to be aloof and indifferent. It’s a self-protection thing.
She thought about this for a moment. He wanted to protect himself from her; that was the crux of it.
CeCe:I get that. Guess I was trying to do the same. But that doesn’t seem so important anymore.
Luka:Well, maybe that’s your answer. Only you can work out what’s important to you.
The hand holding her phone draped over the rim of the tub, she lay her head back as a Gone West song drifted down the hallway. The water cooled, and she went through the motions—drying off, brushing her teeth, and her skincare routine—longing for this day to be over.
CeCe climbed into a cold bed and picked up her e-reader, but put it back down again, her energy spent. Even so, sleep took the long way around, and when she eventually drifted off, there was nothing deep about it.
When she entered the kitchen the following morning, the moussaka still sat on the counter.