Page 78 of Because of Her

The orange glow from the rising sun peeks through the curtains. Yesterday is still playing on repeat in my head and I’m struggling to make heads or tails of my emotions.

Everything hurts, no matter how tightly I wrap myself in my grandma’s blanket.

Seeing Maisie in the stairwell right after my conversation with Madison, I panicked. Her sling was a crushing physical reminder of all the reasons Callum and I shouldn’t be together. When Callum rounded the bend, every hair on my body stood on end. Like always, I’ve found myself wanting something I can’t have. And it feels like a stone slab sits on my chest.

My sister is at the shop with the barista we hired, and Amira left far too early this morning. I should have woken up late to wallow, to contemplate, to figure out what it is I’m going to do with my life. Instead, I’m curled in bed, on the verge of tears.

My phone rings, the sound echoing through the apartment while I stretch across the pillow to find it.

“Wha—” I choke on the phlegm caught in the back of my throat when I answer.

“Are you still in bed?” Noah groans down the phone. “I don’t have time for this, I need flowers.”

Grunting as I sit up, I hear him add, “I’ll pay double.”

Adrenaline surges, the creative outlet exactly what I need. I always think better when I’m making art.

“What for?”

“There’s an … event. I forgot to add it to the calendar. Bring whatever you can at short notice.”

I race to the store to pick up as much stock as I think we can spare, not stopping to explain the situation to Madison, before driving out to the winery to set up. Noah wants a floral arbour at the start of the pathway that leads through the vines, with as many scattered flowers hidden through the rows. He never told me what they were for, but I’d imagined a couple on a romantic stroll through the vines.

After I finish, I find a spot on the grass and lie back.

“Here,” Noah says when he comes to say thanks. He hands me a bottle of Rosé and a glass, “Madison said you might need this. Enjoy the sun.”

Grass tickles my toes as I push myself up to pour a glass of wine.

I would enjoy the moment, soaking in the unusual winter sun, if only my brain would shut up. I wonder, now, if there was a last minute event, or if it was all a ploy to make sure I didn’t spend the day in bed. Madison has a way of knowing just what I need, and I wouldn’t put it past her to call Noah into her tricks.

The thought reminds me of all the things I’ve ever wanted, how I never got what I wished for.

For my mum to come back. For Callum, all those years ago. For a baby. For Callum, again. Only this time, for Maisie, too.

Callum is a package deal, and at first that was hard to accept. Now though? It feels right. Callum and me as a couple feels right, but so does Callum and Maisie and me as a family. I want to be part of his daughter’s life almost as much as I want to be part of his.

Two weeks ago, at Madison’s ultrasound, a desire I’d long ago snuffed out was reignited. Only, it’s different now, like the flame of a scented candle instead of a cheap birthdaycake one. It has more depth, more meaning. I don’t want a baby, I don’t even want a child.

I want Maisie. I really like her. I liked sharing my love of ballet with her. I liked helping Callum look after her.

It’s as though my heart knows she belongs with Callum, and accepted Maisie with every piece it had. And now it’s aching, knowing she’s always going to be so close, yet so far.

I drink the last sip of my wine, before leaning back down to tap my head on the grass. Groaning, I roll over and push myself to sit. When the sun hits my face, a lightbulb clicks in my mind and I know what to do.

All this crap swirl of emotion is because I love Callum. But I made it clear, many times, we would never work. And I finally pushed hard enough that he listened. We’ve shared nothing but tight nods and thin lipped smiles as we passed each other in the hall for the past two weeks.

So, if I can get over my love for Callum, everything will feel better. Right?

Returning to the cellar door, I head towards the bar to deposit my now empty wine bottle and glass. Aside from the group of women on a boozy bridal brunch, everyone seems to be paired up.

There’s an older couple sitting by the window, holding hands across the table as they sip at their red wine and gaze out the window. The younger couple, possibly on a first date, sitting in a booth and looking deep in conversation. The family with young kids, both parents looking equal parts exhausted, happy, and in love.

It feels like love and coupledom is surrounding me. It makes me gag.

“Need another?” a baritone voice reaches across the bar as I approach.

Looking up, I’m shocked at the man I see before me. He feels too young to own such a deep voice.

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