Never Fall for Your Back-Up Guy by Kate O’Keeffe

Chapter 22

Dear Dad

Never have I missed you more than I do today.

What felt like the top of the world to me a mere forty-eight hours ago, now feels like the exact opposite. I messed up, Dad. Badly.

I think I’ve lost the man I’ve been waiting for, my best friend, the guy who makes my heart race with just a smile.

And I don’t know how to get him back.

I wish more than anything that I could talk to you. I wish I could get your advice. I wish…I wish I’d never seen that photograph.

But I have and it’s all ruined now.

I miss you.

Your Za-Za xoxo

Wallowing.I’ll admit it, that’s what I’ve been doing, pure and simple. Wallowing. It’s been two full days since Asher’s and my date, and it’s been impossible to get him out of my mind. The look on his face when he realised I knew about his ex-wife has haunted me day and night. The way he told me to leave, the look on Kristen’s face, as though she’d won.

The way Asher wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Walking away from him, leaving the two of them together, was the hardest thing I’ve had to do since, well, since saying goodbye to my Dad.

What happened after I left? Did Kristen apologise for all that she put him through? Did he forgive her? Did he tell her he’d never stopped loving her, that I’m only a friend who he might have had feelings for but they’re nothing next to his grand love for her?

Why didn’t I tell him I had found out about Kristen the moment I saw that photo? If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my thirty years it’s that it’s always better to be honest. If I’d just told him I’d seen it, he could have come clean about the whole thing. It would have brought us closer together as friends and laid the foundation for what was to come between us.

But I didn’t. I should have, but I didn’t.

I’ve lost him. I’ve lost my heart.

Sure, we’ve messaged each other. We were friends before any of this, so it’d be weird not to be in touch in some way or another. They haven’t been deep. I apologised for not having let on that I knew. He said it was fine. He told me he hoped I’d got home okay. I said I did and thanked him for our date.

And then, nothing.

Now, it’s Monday evening and I’ve been at ScarZar since before seven in the morning. In a totally ill-guided attempt to take my mind off Asher, I closed the shop early and spent the whole afternoon going through all the books and upcoming appointments. It’s not looking pretty. I’ve got too much stock, too little cash flow, and too much overhead. In short, I need new interior design customers, and I need them yesterday.

But I’m not giving up. Not yet, anyway.

So, I set about rearranging the store. As I’m doing so, I put a bunch of items aside with which to design a new window display. With the size of the building, the windows aren’t huge, so all I can ever put in there is one or two pieces and then accessorise them. I head out to the back room where I locate a wallpapered board and pull it out. As I look at the bright pink background covered in oversized lilies, a smile creeps across my face. I loved this when it came in and Scarlett refused to let me use it, telling me it was garish and “off point” and “you shouldn’t design a room around the colour of your favourite coat.” Well, Scarlett, you are no longer here, so it’s going in the window. And I’ll admit, I poke my tongue out at her in a highly mature kind of way as I haul it out of the storage cupboard and out into the shop—not metaphorically, either.

Forty-five minutes later, I’ve got the board in place behind a white chest of drawers, a royal blue linen chair to the side, and a swathe of white muslin hanging from the ceiling as though it were curtains. I walk outside, take a step back, and take in my handiwork. The display looks fresh, colourful, and fun, but still stylish and elegant. And Scarlett would hate it. I allow myself an especially wide smile at the thought.

I return inside and switch off the computer. Stevie is bouncing around in her pen, full of puppy energy gained from snoring softly on her bed for the last hour or so, and I know she’ll be bursting to go outside and get some fresh air.

I clip on her lead and do one final glance around the shop. I look from the shelving, full of ornaments and candles and pottery, to the cushion display, and the gorgeous plush sofa I got in only weeks ago. I don’t want to lose this place. I love it here. I know the business has been in a nosedive since Karina moved in around the corner, but I believe in it. I know I can make a real go of it here.

I just need a break.

I flick off the lights and lock the door. “Come on, Stevie. Let’s go home.” I turn to see three familiar faces appear in front of me. Tabitha, Lottie, and Kennedy. I try out a smile. I know it’s feeble at best. “Hey, girls.”

“Hey yourself,” Kennedy says as the three of them take turns wrapping me up in a hug. “Gorgeous new window display, Zee,” she says as she takes in my new window. “You’re good at this styling thing.”

“Of course she is. She’s a qualified interior designer,” Tabitha replies.

Lottie hooks her arm through mine and we begin to plod up the mews. “Come on you. We’ve come to take you and Stevie to the pub.”

The thought of being in a room full of happy, chatting people adds a lead weight to my already heavy heart. “Thanks, but I’m not in the mood for a drink.”

“So, have a lemonade,” Tabitha replies with a shrug. “You’re coming. No excuses.”

I try a different tactic. “What about Stevie? She needs to go home. She’s had a big day.”

“Stevie will be just fine. She’ll love it at the pub. So many people to see and smells to sniff,” Lottie says as we walk around the corner and onto the high street, Stevie trotting along beside me.

“She needs her dinner,” I whine. Because it definitely sounds like a whine.

“Enough with the excuses already,” Kennedy complains. “We’re not taking no for an answer.”

“And we can order her something at the pub. Dogs like fish and chips, right?” Tabitha asks with a smile.

By now, we’ve reached Karina, and I find myself gazing in at their new window display. With its large bed covered in gorgeous pale yellow linens and throw pillows, to its rows upon rows of little paper butterflies hanging from the ceiling with white balls like a kid’s ball pit covering the floor, it looks inviting, trendy, and achingly chic, all at the same time.

I think of my new modest display and my eyelids grow hot.

My friends notice, and they slow their pace to a stop beside me.

Lottie gives my arm a squeeze. “Your new window display looks so much better, Zee.”

“Isn’t that whole butterflies on strings thing been done, like, a gazillion times already?” Tabitha says with a scowl.

“Yeah, and your window is designed by you, not a whole team of people,” Kennedy adds.

“What I want to know is how you could ever sleep with all those freaking butterflies flapping around your head?” Kennedy asks, and an unexpected giggle begins to build inside of me.

“And wouldn’t you slip over on all those balls if you had to get up to pee in the night?” Tabitha asks. “You’d be like, ‘wow, I need to pee,’ and then you’d swing your feet onto the floor and immediately fall flat on your face in a cushion of balls.” She mimes a faceplant, and my giggle bursts out of me and ends in a snort.

“Atta girl,” Kennedy says with a beaming smile.

“Come on, you.” Lottie pulls me along. “Let’s get that drink.”

Ten minutes later, we’re at The Lion, a once-regular haunt for a post-work wind down for Scarlett and me, with our drinks placed on one of the wooden picnic tables, under a large tree in the outdoor beer garden.

“Have you heard from him?” Kennedy asks. There’s no need to use Asher’s name. We all know exactly who she’s talking about.

My heavy heart reminds me it’s still full to the brim with lead, no matter how amazing and kind my friends are. “We’ve messaged a few times but nothing of any importance. I think he needs some space right now.”

“What is going on with him?” Kennedy asks. “I don’t get it.”

“He’s probably been busy dealing with that nasty piece of work, otherwise known as his ex,” Tabitha says.

“We don’t know she’s a nasty piece of work,” I protest.

“Yes, we do,” all three of my friends say with confidence.

Lottie rubs my arm. “I still can’t believe she turned up like that, totally out of the blue. I mean, how rude!”

“Rude is right,” Tabitha agrees. “Her timing could not have been any worse for our girl. I feel sick to my stomach as I think about it. Have you heard anything about it from your friends back home, Kennedy?”

She takes a sip of her glass of wine and places it back on the table in front of her. “Only that she’s here to see him. Everyone seems to know that part, but they don’t seem to know why.”

“Yeah,” I say as I let out a heavy breath. “That’s the million pound question.”

“What if she’s here to get back with him?” Lottie says.

“Oh, there’s no way Asher would go back to her after everything she’s done. If my husband did the dirty on me with one of you, I would sooner cut off his appendage and pin it to the wall than have him back,” Tabitha says, and we all believe her. Crossing Tabitha would not be a wise idea.

“Even if she has come to say sorry and ask him to come back to her, we don’t know if he’ll go for it,” Kennedy surmises.

The thought of Asher with Kristen sends an uneasy shiver down my spine. “Can we not talk about this?” I hold up my glass of lemonade on ice. “Otherwise, I’ll need something a whole lot stronger than this.”

“Okay, let’s change the subject then. I vote we brainstorm ideas on how to save Zara’s business,” Lottie offers. “At least that’s something we can help with. Right?”

“Men are a total enigma,” Tabitha says.

“I might be able to help,” Kennedy says, and all eyes turn to her. “The rumour is that the magazine is going to be sold, so they’re considering anything and everything for features. Sandra, my boss, told me on Friday that she was considering a feature on cat fashion, which is totally left field for our chic magazine.”

“Cat fashion? Like dresses for cats?” Lottie questions.

“Mainly costumes, really. Apparently, it’s a thing. Mermaids, astronauts, princesses. Who knew, right?”

“Why exactly are you talking about cats getting dressed up as mermaids when we’re trying to work out how to help Zara save ScarZar?” Tabitha quips, ever the pragmatist. She may let loose a little too often for her own good, but she’s as sharp as a tack and doesn’t hold any prisoners, as Granny would say.

“It’s not going to be ScarZar anymore,” I reply.

Tabitha nods. “Clearly. You’ve got to cut ‘Scarlett’ out of the name right now—and your life, babe.”

“Oh, that’s already done,” I say with a bitter laugh.

“She’s dead to me,” Lottie says and Tabitha and Kennedy both agree.

“Dead as a Dodo.”

“Scarlett who?”

My friends are the absolute best.

“Anyway,” Kennedy begins in order to refocus us, “my point is that since they’re accepting features on things like cats’ costumes, I bet they’ll be more open to running a feature on up-and-coming local interior designer, Zara Huntington-Ross.” She picks up her phone. “In fact, I’m gonna message Sandra right this minute and pitch it to her once more.” She begins to tap at her phone.

Tears of gratitude well in my eyes and I wipe them away quickly with my fingertips before they get any ideas about spilling down my cheeks. “Thanks, Kennedy. You’re wonderful.”

She puts her phone back down on the table. “Done.”

“That would be amazing exposure for Zee’s new business. Ooh, I know what you can call it! It’s so simple, I don’t know why we hadn’t thought of it before.” Lottie’s grin is as wide as the Channel Tunnel. “Zara,” she says and she beams at us proudly.

“Honey, that name’s already in use. Zara the global Spanish fashion chain, remember?” Kennedy says.

“Oh. Right. I forgot about them.”

“But it’s a great idea,” I say to her. “I’ll work on the name.”

Kennedy’s phone beeps and she picks it up to read the screen. Her face falls. “Sandra isn’t leaping at the idea. But don’t worry, babe. I’ll work on her.”

My little glimmer of hope has dulled. “Sure. Thanks.”

“I know what. How about we upscale your online presence, babe?” Tabitha suggests. “I’ve got some skills in that department, and I know someone who can help.”

“That’s a great idea! We can all help with promoting you on social media, too. Oh, and talk to all our friends and families about how amazing you are.” Lottie says. “Between Tabitha and Kennedy and me, we have got you covered.”

I smile at my friends, my spirits doing their best to bounce back. “Thanks, girls. You’re the best.”

“And as for Asher McMillan? He loves you. That ex-wife of his is old news. You’ll see,” Lottie says with assuredness.

“Lottie’s right,” Kennedy adds. “He probably just needs time to process his ex turning up here unexpectedly.”

“And me not telling him that I knew about her,” I add with a slump of my shoulders. “Don’t forget that part.”

Tabitha leans back in her seat. “He’ll come ’round, Zee. We all know he’s crazy about you.”

“She’s right. He calls you ‘wifey,’ for goodness sake,” Kennedy adds. “And he’s your back-up guy. That’s got to mean something.”

Lottie slings her arm around my shoulders. “And if he doesn’t remember how incredible you are, that’s his loss, because we think you’re amazing. Now, will someone get my girl here a proper drink? We need to celebrate Zara’s new, exciting, Scarlett-free interior design business.”

I laugh, shaking my head and feeling lighter than before.

I might well have lost the man I love, but I’ve got the best friends a girl could ever have.