Page 23 of Five Years
Ariana pouted and frowned—it was the cutest display of cuteness Leah had ever witnessed. It went on to become her favourite of Ariana’s expressions. Whenever Ariana felt silly, she’d revert to that inner child seeking someone to absorb the embarrassment. Leah used to love being that person.
They spent the next 30 minutes watching one of the many fudge shops tend to their fudge. The cook used a large copperkettle, stirring continuously for the right consistency. They watched as he poured the thick chocolate mixture onto a marble slab—cooling and shaping had begun. He folded the fudge until creamy, then moved to the adjacent slab, where he rolled, stretched, and shaped it into loaf-like forms before slicing it into perfectly portioned pieces.
“Are you satisfied that no turtles were harmed?” Leah whispered.
Ariana playfully nudged her.
“Would you like to try a piece?” the fudge maker asked.
“Yes, please.” Ariana’s face lit up.
Leah had done the tour on previous visits, and still, the taste of fresh fudge ranked in her top five things she’d ever put in her mouth—food, not rude. Depressingly, Ariana still held the number one spot.
It was in that moment, watching the fudge maker chop a slice into smaller chunks and launch them toward the spectators, that Leah fell in love. It happened unexpectedly. The emotion weighed on her chest. That warm, queasy feeling in her stomach—offbeat and disarming—caught her off guard. And while she’d loved her ex before Ariana, she realised then she’d never truly been in love.
Now, she lived with the aftershocks of a relationship that once made her feel unstoppable. When her friends or family expressed concern about her inability to move on, her answer was always the same: “I will one day. I just haven’t found the right person.”
It was partly true. She hadn’t. Some might argue she hadn’t given anyone a chance. But the real truth? She couldn’t settle. Not when she knew what existed.
Urgh.
She hated that she’d once loved Ariana so deeply. As a result, any future partner had to break down walls as high as the SistineChapel, jump through Olympic rings of fire, and fight off rabid dogs guarding the small pumping organ she called her heart. It sounded like an illegal version ofWipeout. She honestly felt bad for whoever dared try.
Just one small bite couldn’t hurt.
She felt like Joey fromFriends, resisting chocolate cake. She pulled a fork from the third kitchen drawer she opened. The fudge was fresh—her fate was sealed. No way she could resist. There were six pieces and eight guests. But three were children—one too young to eat fudge. So technically, one piece for the twins. Girl math.
Just a small corner piece. She’d offer the rest to everyone else. Just one tiny sliver—
The fork sliced through the Turtle Fudge. The moist, sugary treat yielded easily. She pierced the small corner section that now lay flat in the box.
No going back. If this went south, she’d blame the children.
The creamy chocolate melted in her mouth. Hints of caramel engulfed her taste buds. She closed her eyes, letting the sweetness linger.
She sighed. “I think this is the best fudge I’ve ever tasted.”
“Is that so?” a voice interrupted.
Startled, Leah opened her eyes to find Ariana standing in front of her.
“I’m sorry,” Leah dropped the fork on the counter. “I couldn’t resist.”
Ariana smirked. Leah couldn’t wipe the sheepish look from her face. This was her worst nightmare—caught in the act. And by Ariana, of all people.
What was she even doing back at the house?
She walked over in the slow, effortless, almost floating way that she did, perusing the kitchen as if pieces of Van Gogh’s work blessed the surfaces. She approached Leah from the left, theirsudden proximity causing the air to crackle with tension. Her hand brushed past Leah’s exposed arm as she reached for the same fudge-stained fork Leah had just used.
“So, what flavours do we have?” she smiled. “Is that—” Ariana pointed the metal object towards the smaller, now misshaped piece of fudge.
“Turtle Fudge,” Leah answered.
“I remember—” Ariana smiled but turned her face back toward the sweet treat.
What was that?
Leah noticed it, only briefly, but it was there—a flicker of pain? Of discomfort? Maybe Leah imagined it.
