Because of Them (Because of Love #2)

Chapter Twenty-Five

AUDREY

T he map on my phone screen flickers, reloading as I drive past my destination for the fifth time. There are still no parking spaces along the street.

My chin tips up as I drop my head against the headrest, huffing. Gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white, I turn up the nearest street to loop back around. Any other time, I would have driven a little further, parked up the street, or utilised the large parking lot behind the rows of shops. But I don’t want to walk. I want the convenience of a fifteen-minute parking space so I can get in and get out without feeling bad when I inevitably shy away from the small talk. I want to take as few steps as possible to reduce the likelihood of my ankles swelling in the heat. But much to my dismay, the shopping strip is packed. It’s to be expected, really, the week before Christmas.

It takes just as many laps of the parking lot to find an empty spot, and even then I have to chase down a woman carrying her loaded bags of shopping back to her car. The air in my oversized suburban SUV begins to heat as soon as I turn the ignition off. With no cool air flowing back into the space, it only takes a few seconds before the heat is unbearable. The summer sun glares through the windows, stealing away the breathable air only to replace it with a stifling dry heat that burns my throat. I step out, wanting to find relief but instead finding a muggy heat that sticks to my skin.

The babies flip in my stomach, and I wonder how much more of this I can take. My third trimester is only just beginning, but with two of them in there, my lungs are already as squished as I think possible, and the heat is only making it worse.

Cassidy’s painting is propped in the rear of the car, but now that I’m parked a few hundred metres away I have no idea how to get it to the shop. It’s too large for me to carry, especially now and certainly in this heat. In hindsight, I should have taken Callum up on his offer to pick it up, but I was determined to do this for myself. It was dumb really, not wanting to rely on my ex-husband. Considering the artwork is for his girlfriend and I can barely lift the thing up. Resigned, I pull my phone out to call Cassidy and ask for help.

When she doesn’t answer, I have to search for the boutique’s phone number. The phone rings and rings, and just when I’m about to give up and end the call, the receiver clicks.

“Thanks for calling Betty’s, I’m Cassidy, how can I help today?”

“Oh, thank God,” I sigh through the phone. “Cass, it’s Audrey. I’m in the rear parking lot with the painting but I—”

“I’m coming, will I see you from the entrance?”

I look across the parking lot toward the boom gates. She might. “I’ll walk down a bit so you can see where I am.”

“Okay, see you in a sec!”

The line is cut short before I can respond.

I can’t leave the painting to cook in the car, so I leave the boot open and waddle my way to the end of the aisle, thankful it’s only a few cars down.

Cassidy’s green summer dress floats behind her as she power walks into the carpark as I reach the end of the row. Her chocolate hair is scrunched on her head, and dark sunglasses shield her eyes. Her dark apron flaps against her legs, coming loose as she reaches a hand above her head to wave that she has seen me.

“Sorry.” I puff the word out as she approaches but she shrugs off the apology.

Seeing my open boot, she heads over and pulls the painting out. It’s not overly heavy, but the size is awkward, tilting off balance over her tiny frame. With the boot closed and car locked, I step toward Cassidy and help support the painting. Although she still carries most of the weight, it takes both of us awkwardly shuffling out of the parking lot and down the street to get the painting safely to her store.

A bouquet of scents hits me when we step through the open threshold and into her floristry cafe. Eucalyptus and florals mix with the deep aromatic smell of coffee and the sweet fruity flavours of all the baked goods on display next to the coffee machine.

Cassidy’s friend from the housewarming steps out from behind the coffee bar cart to take my side of the painting.

“Thanks Amira,” Cassidy says as they shuffle behind the long bench.

I say my own thanks and sit down on the edge of a low table scattered with buckets of flowers. My pulse races and my skin burns with the heat, but slowly under the cool flow of the giant overhead fan my heart returns to a steady rhythm and my panting breaths return to normal.

A young couple enters the shop as Cassidy and Amira prop the painting up against the wall.

Amira skitters over to the coffee cart and starts tinkering with glassware after taking the man’s order. The coffee machine whirs to life. Cassidy excuses herself to help the couple, who are now admiring the wall of greenery along the back of the shop.

The space is exquisite. I’m not sure what I was picturing when Cassidy told me how she had grown her floristry business to also include the boutique, and how, with Amira’s help and expertise, she added the coffee cart. I imagined a lot more pink, less native greenery, more cutesy decor and less exposed brick. But the rustic texture of the brick contrasts beautifully with the matte black fittings and the florals spread through the space. Most of the flowers are Australian natives, just like the Waratahs and Banksias I used in the painting. The low table I’ve made my chair, though, is full of more typical, brightly coloured flowers. Roses, Tulips, Dahlias and Gerberas in every colour of the rainbow.

It’s overwhelming how beautiful the shop is. And it’s inspiring to think that Cassidy created this all on her own. It refills that creative desire in my heart, threatening to spill over until I’m full from the inside out, ready to give up the career I’ve paved for my artwork. It wouldn’t be the worst idea, and with every long day and painful interaction with my boss, I’m closer to deciding not to go back to real estate after my maternity leave than I’ve ever been.

The painting I created for Cassidy has been propped along the wall behind the counter, still wrapped as the women finish serving their customers. It was thrilling to finish the artwork and see Cassidy’s payment hit my bank account. This piece will always be special to me.

“Can we open it now?” Cassidy asks as the couple leaves the store, iced drinks in hand, along with a posy of yellow flowers.

She yanks at the thick tissue paper and stands back with her hands on her hips. I can only see the side of her face, but her cheek puffs out as she beams down at the panting. I push off my makeshift chair, taking far too long to stand and shuffle my feet over to Cassidy.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Do you know how you’re going to hang it?”

Amira chuckles from behind the cart. “Yeah, she is going to call her boyfriend to do it for us.” Her hand slaps up to cover her mouth. A deep crimson tinge spreads to the tips of her ears as she looks over to me. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. Is that weird? Should I stop talking about her boyfriend? You know, because he is your ex and all?”

Cassidy grumbles. “Shut up.”

Amira drops her hand to her front, wiping it on her apron. She steps out from the coffee cart and moves to throw an arm over Cassidy’s shoulders. “Right, sorry. Probably weirder that you went on a date with her baby daddy.”

I freeze. It’s not news to me, Cassidy had mentioned it at the housewarming after all, but it’s no easier hearing about it now than it was then. Come to think of it, it’s probably harder now considering the new lines we’ve started marking out for our relationship. My stomach sinks and churns.

Cassidy turns to me. Her cheeks are brighter than Amira’s ears.

“I promise it didn’t mean anything. In fact, it was a pretty miserable date.”

“Yeah, she crawled onto the couch afterwards. Moaning and whining about how bad it was.” Amira nudges Cassidy, but her smile drops when she sees the agitation on my face.

I reach for the comforting edges of my cardigan, cursing myself when I come up short. It’s too damn hot for anything more than my simple summer dress, but without a cardigan to wrap around me, I feel naked and exposed. I hug myself all the same.

“We just weren’t right for each other.” Cassidy’s voice is soft as she tries to explain away awkward tension floating all through the room. “I was lofty and carefree and he was … on a tighter time schedule.”

“He had lunch plans. And dinner plans.” Amira squeaks. Her mouth is tight as the words escape, and she throws a hand up to cover them again. “You know what, I’ve got some … ah … paperwork. Yeah, in the office.” She scurries to the room behind the giant floral wall.

“He did,” Cassidy says. “But from what I can tell, he has changed now. At the housewarming he might as well have been a different person. If it wasn’t for the long blond hair and his gigantic muscles, I wouldn’t have recognised him.”

“The muscles, woah,” Amira calls out from the back room. “Is he ever at home or does he live at the gym?”

I bite my lips together and nod, trying to ignore the pulling from deep in my chest.

“Amira!” Cassidy snaps.

I want to scream that it’s not true. To tell her that he spends more time with me than he does at the gym. But I don’t know if that’s the truth. For all I know he probably does spend a lot of time there. He’d have to, for his muscles to still be as firm and delightful as they are. And the few times he’s stayed he did rush off early in the morning. For work, he’d said, but maybe it was so he could go to the gym first?

“It’s fine,” I say instead, choking the words out through the pain and stepping towards the street. It’s not awkward unless I make it awkward. Isn’t that what I told myself when I first found out they had been on a date?

And it’s still mostly true but finding out he also had plans with two other women on the same day has me questioning everything. I knew he had been with a lot of women before me. If that wasn’t obvious by the expert way he knew a woman’s body, he’d practically said as much when we first started to see each other more often. Long before the babies were involved and we spoke about our relationship the very first time. The exact words have erased from my memory but it was along the lines of him playing the field but finally feeling like he found the right person. I’d brushed it off as cheesy but now? Now it feels like a cop out.

Doubt starts to fester. I rush a goodbye to Cassidy and hobble my way back to my car. The seed rocks in my gut and nausea swirls. How can Michael be sure I’m the one if there have been so many others? There’s nothing special about me. Nothing except the babies.

No. I force the spiteful feeling out before it has a chance to fertilise the tiny doubt seed that has been planted. He told me his feelings aren’t because of them. I have to believe that. I do believe that. If I don’t, everything crumbles right as it is beginning to bloom.

Forcibly, I swallow down the lump in my throat, burying the bitter seed down with it. I can’t do anything to get rid of it now, but I can refuse to feed it. I won’t let it grow. I won’t let it sprout into something that could tear us apart for no good reason.

And if it grows on its own, without my negative thoughts feeding it? Well then maybe it was meant to be there all along.