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“Keep it. Looked better on you anyway.” He dons his winter boots and leaves the apartment without another word.
The door shuts, encasing me in silence. I hold myself in place, muscles taught as I fight for control over my emotions.
This will not take me down,I repeat to myself, like a mantra.I have survived far worse on my own. This is nothing.I take slow, steadying breaths, trying to think of any next steps. Any and every relationship I’ve had here is ruined. While Beck andHazel might be the forgiving type, James and Nessa aren’t. Nessa is Beck’s best friend, and Hazel is Nessa’s best friend. James is an integral part of their group. Nessa and Hazel might have been the people closest to me in my life, however, out of everyone, I’m the easiest to let go. The most removeable. Replaceable.
I crawl under my covers and pull out my phone, bringing up a renters app.
Maybe this city is done with me. Maybe I’m meant to be somewhere else.
Stud
I’m sorry. There’s no excusing my behaviour. I understand that none of this was your fault. Like you said, you know the house I grew up in. I expect manipulation everywhere, even when I shouldn’t. I acted before I thought. Whether or not you forgive me, I hope you can accept my apology. You really are the brightest star in the sky.
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Chapter 36
Stella
Idon’t know what part of me thought he might come in today. I was the first one in this morning after I asked Beck to put me only on the café side from now on. Nessa only works the bar side, and I doubt I’ll be seeing James in the café any time soon. Beck had seemed sad when I asked him but agreed to my request anyway. I didn’t give him any more information than that, despite how clear it was that he had questions. I simply need to keep my head down, work hard, and figure out my next steps.
When the morning rush dies down, I dip into the kitchen to get started on some baking. This is my retreat, my refuge in the café. It’s the one place where people don’t usually bother me. I get started mixing my dry ingredients, figuring out what kind of muffins to make. I trail my hands over the options. Chocolate chips, dried cranberries, walnuts, the options have grown since Beck saw what I could do with my baking.
I stop, my palm hovering over a pint of blueberries someone must have pulled from the fridge earlier.
You said you wanted to make muffins at work, but the supplier was out. I saw them when I grabbed the flowers.
I stare at them, remembering how much that meant to me at the time. That one thought is enough to drag me into an onslaught of recent memories, bringing all that pain that I’ve spent the day pushing down to the forefront of my mind.
I pull myself out of my thoughts, grabbing chocolate and some nuts. It’ll give a warm, cozy vibe to the space and smell incredible. I’m ready to put them in the oven when Kyle pops his head in the back. He’s a good kid, if not a bit of an idiot.
“Yo, Stella, Miriam’s here. She asked if you were working, said I’d grab you.” He gives me a goofy smile before going back up to the front without waiting for an answer. He knows that I’ll stop whatever I’m doing to see her.
I slide the tray into the oven, quickly rinse my hands and go looking for my best (last) friend. I spot her puff of white hair right away and slide on up to her.
“Miriam! It’s so good to see you,” I say, flashing a genuine smile.
“Oh dear, look at you! I haven’t seen you in ages! Have you grown?” She’s teasing me. It’s refreshing.
“I haven’t grown since I was fifteen, nice try,” I laugh along with her.
“Where have you been? That sweet young thing over there is terrible at making my usual, I was about to hunt you down!” Kyle’s head pops up from behind the counter, having heard us, and he looks like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and alert.
“Don’t be mean to him, he’s just a kid,” I chide.
“Well, you have to shame the stupid out of them young,” Miriam says offhandedly.
“Ah, I love you.” The words slip out before I can stop them. Miriam’s face lights up as she swings her arms around my middle.
“I love you too, girly. Now, sit down with an old woman and let’s have a chat.” She says it with such authority that I plunk down next to her. I check my phone timer, knowing I have a while before the muffins are done.
“So,” Miriam starts, sitting across from me with her hands balanced on the top of her candy pink cane. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”
Miriam might be a witch.
Within five minutes, my entire story came pouring out of me. I told her about my parents, James, the drama with Nessa, wanting to travel, the debt, everything. Not once did she interrupt or ask a question, merely nodded along, humming occasionally in agreement.
Once my guts are fully spilled between us, she finally speaks. “That’s quite a story,” she starts. “First things first, let me remind you that you still have one friend left in the city, so don’t go running away too soon.” She covers my hand with hers. It’s small and pale, the blue veins prominent. If my grandmother had lived this long, I’m sure hers would look like this now, too.
