Outrageously in Love by Jen Morris

38

The seatbelt sign switches off and the plane levels out. This time I didn’t bat an eyelash during takeoff, which I’m putting down to two factors: one, I’m practically a seasoned traveler now, and two, I’m too bloody maudlin to care what happens to me at this point. Why should I? I’m in love with someone who doesn’t love me back, and my heart feels like it has been slashed to bits with a machete.

Oh, and I ruined my sister’s wedding, losing both her trust and respect.

The plane shudders as we hit a small patch of turbulence, but I just release a loud sigh and gaze out the window, thinking of Geoff. He was my savior in the end.

After fleeing the reception, I ran from the lodge down the road to the cabin, grabbed my things and was about to call a cab to take me back to the city when headlights swung up the driveway. For a moment I was overcome with joy because I thought Luke had followed me. He’d seen reason! He’d announced the truth to the whole reception! He’d come to declare his love! Oh, I knew he’d come through—

I was wrong, obviously.

Instead, Geoff leapt from the car and came running up the driveway, pulling me into a hug. When I told him I was getting a cab back to the city, he said it would cost me a fortune and offered to drive me.

I didn’t know what to say. I think I burst into tears because of his kindness, and he ushered me into the passenger seat. I asked him why he was helping me and pointed out that after what had happened, Alex wouldn’t be pleased. But he just shrugged and said that once Alex had calmed down, she’d be grateful I hadn’t been alone when I was upset.

I wasn’t so sure.

My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing with calls from my parents, and in the end I sent them a text to say I wasn’t feeling well and I’d check in with them later. I couldn’t bear to explain over the phone what had happened.

Geoff and I drove in silence for at least an hour, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to get the words out. “It was Luke,” I murmured in the dark.

I thought Geoff hadn’t heard me, because he didn’t say anything for the longest time. But then he sighed, and said, “I know.”

“How?”

He shrugged again, glancing at me with a soft smile. “I don’t know. I just had a feeling.”

I waited for him to say more—that he’d told me so, that I was delusional because Luke wasn’t divorced at all, and poor Alex, how selfish of me. But he said nothing like that. He did nothing that made me feel like he was judging me.

He took me straight to the airport, and even though I had three missed calls from Alex by then, I still just wanted to get on a plane and go home. After faffing about sorting out my ticket, I’m finally in the air. You’d think I’d be relieved, but instead I just feel… numb. The past two and a half weeks are a surreal blur in my mind, almost as if I dreamed them. And if it wasn’t for the red hair tumbling over my shoulders, I might even think I did.

I give the flight attendant a thin smile as she hands me a glass of water. I was tempted to ask for whiskey but couldn’t bring myself to say the words.

But the longer I sit here, processing the past couple of weeks, the more I do know one thing: I’m an idiot. Of course what Luke and I had couldn’t last. I live on the other side of the planet, our siblings are married, he’s barely divorced… not to mention the fact that I lied to him. There are so many reasons it could never work, no matter how much I wanted it to. He made that clear from the start, by refusing to tell anyone about us. Talk about not taking the hint, Harriet.

I laugh bitterly and the man to my right gives me a sideways look.

Great. Now I’m turning into a nutter who laughs to herself in public. Ah, I’m too depressed to care.

This is all Harriet 2.0’s fault. Who was I kidding with that whole thing? All I was doing was playing a foolish game—pretending to be someone I’m not, pretending to be adventurous, pretending I could have a little fling without consequences.

Pretending I was fearless.

I wish I’d never tapped into my alter ego. Well, I’m done with her, with her utter disregard for my feelings and how her outlandish actions might affect me. All she did was get me hurt.

Maybe Alex was right. She said she didn’t know me anymore and I can’t say I recognize myself right now, sitting here feeling sorry for myself because some guy rejected me. I never thought I’d be that woman, falling apart over a man, but that’s exactly what it feels like. It feels like I’m falling apart.

A lone tear escapes down my cheek but I don’t bother to wipe it away. I hurt my sister and ruined her wedding. She’ll probably never forgive me.

And I’ve lost the man who made me feel more alive than anyone ever has.

I just hope I haven’t lost myself, too.

* * *

I’m going backto work today. I don’t want to see Paula because she’ll be all excited to hear about my trip, and even though it’s been four days since I arrived home, I’m still in pieces. Tiny, fragmented little pieces that I can’t put back together. Every time I try, there’s a piece missing.

I haven’t been sleeping well. At night I lie awake in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the past few weeks. When I do drift off to sleep, it’s fitful and full of messed-up dreams. I had one where I was drowning in the lake but Luke didn’t notice, and when he finally tried to save me it was too late. I had another dream where I was down on a subway platform but it was empty and quiet, like at the museum. Then I noticed that Alex was on the tracks so I went down to talk to her, and a train came screaming around the corner. I woke before it hit us, but… clearly I have some issues.

It’s been a weird few days. I’ve never missed someone like I miss Luke. It’s an ache, a physical pain in my chest. My heart has been dropped off a cliff and now it’s so bruised I’m not sure how it will recover. I know I shouldn’t miss him, not after he left me to fend for myself at the wedding, but I can’t help it. I keep thinking of things I want to share with him or say to him, then I realize I can’t. It’s like that phantom limb syndrome where people who’ve lost limbs keep thinking they’re still there. How on earth can I feel like that after only knowing him for two and a half weeks? I must be losing my mind.

Alex has called a few more times and I’ve let it go to voicemail. I just can’t face her yet. At least Steph hasn’t been home, showering me with questions. She’s been up in Auckland for work and I could not be more glad. It feels like a tiny mercy from this cruel and heartless universe.

Anyway. Enough moping. Enough feeling like shit over something so stupid. Time to get on with my life. Work today.

I do have a bit of a conundrum, though. It’s going to sound silly, but I don’t know what to wear to work. On autopilot I put on my slim-fitting jeans and a simple T-shirt, pulling my hair up into the tight bun on my head. But when I look at myself in the mirror, it doesn’t feel right. I might be done with the outrageous version of myself, but I’m not the old me anymore, either. The trip to New York changed me, whether I like it or not.

In the end I stay in my jeans and T-shirt, but I put my red lipstick on and wear my hair half-up, half-down. It seems like a kind of compromise, and I smile at myself in the mirror when I’m done. The smile doesn’t reach my eyes.

I drag my feet the whole walk to work, but when I finally push through the glass doors and inhale the familiar scent of coffee beans and Paula baking something delicious, a little part of me unfurls. It’s nice to be back here, actually. Comforting. Maybe I can do this. Maybe today will be good.

Paula pops out from the kitchen, grinning when she sees me. “Hey, chick!” She wraps me in a tight hug, then releases me. “You look fantastic! How was your trip?”

I burst into tears.

Fuck. Not a brilliant start.

“Oh, love!” She takes my hand and guides me over to a table. “What’s wrong?”

I sit there for a moment, studying the woodgrain in the table-top. Then, I draw a wobbly breath and tell her. Everything. The plane, the fling with Luke, his divorce, the wedding, how I let Alex down. How I convinced myself Luke was falling for me, then realized how deluded I was.

When I’m finally done, she puts an arm around my shoulder and squeezes. “Oh, chick. I’m sorry. That sounds…” She shakes her head. She doesn’t give me advice, or make me feel bad, and I love her for it.

I dry my eyes and glance at the clock above the counter. Shit, I’ve been sitting here blubbering for twenty minutes. It’s nearly time to open up.

“Thanks for listening and not judging. I haven’t shared it all with anyone and it was good to get it out.” And strangely, I do feel a little better. Not much, but a bit.

I stand and grab my apron from the counter, tying it around my waist, but Paula doesn’t move from the table.

“I suppose we should get on with things,” I say, trying to keep my tone bright. “It’s good to be back here. I missed this place.” I wait for Paula to stand, but she doesn’t.

Instead, she sends me a worried look. “You should probably sit down again, love. I have some news.”

Her tone makes a weight settle in my gut, and I lower myself back into the chair.

“I’m so sorry to drop this on you after everything you’ve just been through, but I need to tell you.” She pauses, fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers on the table between us. “I’m selling—well, actually, I’ve sold—the cafe.”

Oh shit. Of course, Mum and Dad said something about that. With everything going on with Luke, I completely forgot.

“Right. What, er, what brought this on?” As far as I’ve always known, she loves running this place.

“Actually, it was you.”

“Me?”

She nods. “When you left for New York, it got me thinking. I’ve always wanted to travel, to get out and see the world a bit more. I’m getting older and it sort of feels like now or never.”

“Wow.”

“It happened very quickly. I put the cafe on the market to see if there might be some interest, to see what response I’d get. But I got an offer after only three days and I couldn’t turn it down.”

“Right,” I murmur. I’m so shocked I don’t know what to think. “So… where will you go? What will you do?”

An excited smile plays on her lips. “I don’t know! I thought I might go to New York, see what all the fuss is about. But you know, eventually, I’ll want to do something like this again.” She gestures around us. “I do love this place and I’m sad to leave, but I’m excited to explore somewhere new, build something new.”

I give her a faint smile. She’s brave, giving up something that she loves to see what else is out there.

“Anyway.” Her smile fades. “Unfortunately—God, I hate to have to do this, chick—but the new owner doesn’t want things to stay the same. He has ideas to redo the place and he’ll be hiring new staff.” She grimaces, reaching across the table for my hand. “So, that means—”

“Yeah. I get it.” I push my mouth into a smile, but I can’t stop my shoulders from sagging. The one good thing I had left in my life is now also being taken away.

Way to kick me when I’m down, universe.

“I’m sorry.” Paula’s face lines with remorse but I wave her apology away.

“Don’t be silly. I’m really happy for you.”

“What will you do?”

I chew my cheek, gazing around at the cafe. I’ve gotten so used to coming here all the time, to spending my days here, that I can’t really imagine going anywhere else. Well, there was that one place in New York, that board game cafe that felt like my dream come to life…

“I could start my own cafe,” I say, but it sounds like a joke to my ears.

Paula’s face lights up. “Yes! You should! I’ve seen you scribbling ideas on that napkin.”

“Oh…” I’m taken aback by her enthusiasm, and I did not know she’d seen my napkin. “Well, I don’t know.”

“Why not? You’ve worked for me for so long, wouldn’t you love to be your own boss?”

I shrug, recalling Luke’s enthusiasm and belief in me, the folder with all the numbers still in my bag, the empty store on the Lower East Side. I remember how I could see the ideas from my napkin come to life in that place, how I thought I’d call it something fun, like Game of Scones.

But thinking of that now sends a sharp sting through my chest and I quickly shake my head. The girl that stood in that empty shop space and pictured starting her own business was a different person. That was Harriet 2.0. When I think of that idea now it feels ridiculous. It feels impossible.

“I’d love to help you set something up,” Paula says. “Maybe when I’m back from seeing the world, we could—”

“Thanks, but I don’t think so.” A shaky laugh drops from my lips. “I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll find another job.” As much as I hate the thought of having to redo my resume and find a new job, I guess that will give me something to focus on, to distract me from the pool of misery I’ve been wallowing in. And it’s a lot less overwhelming than contemplating some wild fantasy of flitting off to start my own business in a new country.

Paula sighs, setting the salt and pepper shakers down, but she doesn’t say anything more.

I force another smile and stand. “I’m so happy for you. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” I wander to the counter and turn on the espresso machine, willing the tears brimming my eyes to go away, the hollowness inside to disappear.

It feels like I’m losing everything I know, and soon there won’t be anything left.