Page 2 of Because of Her

A large part of me is still grieving my marriage, the ideals I had in my head and the future I always envisioned. Family has always been the most important thing in my life, my parents made sure my sister and I knew to always stick together. When she got married, we all welcomed her husband into our tight knit group, even though his dark red hair makes him stand out like the only deciduous tree in the botanic gardens during autumn.

When my relationship with Audrey was still young, I wanted nothing more than for her to join our family groupas well. In hindsight, the fact she never put in much effort probably should have been red flag number one. No one goes into a marriage thinking divorce is a possibility, but I never imagined my marriage might be the one destined to break down. I thought I had found the love of my life and would spend the rest of my years with her by my side. Instead, I’ll spend them alone.

I shake off the reflective thoughts and the sorrow adjoining them.

Refocusing on my family and the move, we form something that resembles a plan, but mostly involves one person waiting with the truck while the others carry a load in.

I move to the back of the truck, and as I lower the tailgate, goosebumps form on the back of my neck. An odd feeling washes over me and tingles spread down my spine. I look back to my family, but they stand in place, ready to help once we can get into the truck.

“You’ve got admirers,” Isobel calls from the sidewalk as I walk onto the truck bed.

I glance around. From a balcony above us, two women stand in the sun. I’m not surprised my new, third floor neighbours are watching. I don’t blame them, I would, too, and they aren’t the only ones.

My eyes are only drawn to them, though, and I watch them through my peripheral so they won’t shy away. One woman wears a bright, oversized dressing gown and has her hair tied in a long braid over her shoulder. But it isn’t her who catches my eye, it’s the other one. Wearing a simple sundress, her chocolate hair falls in soft waves to her collarbone. Sunlight surrounds her, and I can’t look away, or explain the way my spine continues to tingle at the sight of her. My insides flop at her beauty, even from this far away. More interesting than that, though, I can’t shake the feeling I know her.

CASSIDY

The hypnotic smell of coffee hits me at the same time as the ridiculous level of chatter. My ears buzz with the noise, and I pause to remind myself why I’m here.

Scanning the room, I’m drawn to the giant floral backdrop along the far wall, and the gaggle of women crowding the space. Men stand back, scattered through the tables, cradling handbags and occasionally stepping forward to take a social media worthy photo.

I spot Mike seated as far from the back wall as possible. I should feel relief, seeing the man I’m here to meet, but I don’t. Dread flows through my veins instead, as I realise he is far larger than his photos implied. He isn’t just fit, or well built. He is immense. Veins protrude from every bulging muscle on his crossed arms, and his neck is so wide it seems as though his shoulders are in a permanent shrug. The blond, beachy hair is long, tied back in a ridiculous ponytail. The kind of luscious waves that years past, would have made me jealous.

If I didn’t so desperately need a double shot latte, I would turn on my heel and remove myself from this ridiculous scenario.

I wonder, for the tiniest of moments, if I could order a sneaky coffee to go before bailing.Would he recognise me? Would he care if I never showed?To my dismay, Mike spots me, stretching up a hand to wave me over. His face twists into a goofy smile, and I catch a glimpse of the humorous man I’ve been chatting to. Maybe this date won’t be so bad after all.

On paper, or phone screen, I suppose, Mike ticked allthe right boxes. The banter between us flowed well. His messages made me chuckle and I’m sure my lame puns had him cringing.

“Hey.” I greet him with my own tight-lipped smile after zigzagging through the crowded room.

He doesn’t stand up when I approach the table.

When I pull out my chair to sit down, I notice how reserved his smile really is. His eyebrows pinched in a frown despite the upturn of his lips.

“You’re late,” he scoffs, as I pick up the menu and sit down.

When Mike recommended this café, I looked up the menu online. The website gave a cutesy, romantic vibe, and I hadn’t minded it would involve a twenty-minute tram ride to get here. I figured it would give me time to read my romance novel in peace. Now though, I feel like all it did was make me late and give me additional time to develop my already unrealistic expectations in men.

Like Mike.

Because although I’m not counting, I’m pretty sure I’m up to red flag number five, and I haven’t even ordered my coffee. I try to keep my expression sympathetic.

“Sorry, the tram was overcrowded so I waited for a second one.”

Mike responds with a blank stare.

“Which was late,” I add, trying to keep my tone light. “So, I’m late. Sorry.”

Without a word, Mike waves a waitress over and orders himself an oat milk cappuccino before gesturing for me to order.

“I’ll have a double shot latte please.” After she writes my drink order on her little notepad, I add, “and the bacon avocado smash with a poached egg.”

Her grin is wide as she writes down the order. When she turns to Mike, her slick high ponytail flips over her shoulder.

“Would you—”

“No food for me, thanks.” He cuts her off, his voice blunt and growly.

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