Page 63 of For the Love of Lily

In the end, the video kept playing, but I lay on the grass letting the warm sun sink into my skin, wishing I could escape.

What was worse? To have stayed as I was, alone but trouble free. Or to have had two amazing new lives opened up to me, one of which had to go. Maybe wine would help…

Yet an afternoon lying in the sunshine with a chilled glass of white did nothing. I was frustrated at myself, angry at the world in general.

A random idea occurred to me, to recreate some Zack magic. By early evening, I dressed in tight jeans and a sheer top, put the Gucci’s back on and grabbed a cab to the restaurant we had shared our first date in.

A modern annexe had been built at the side, housing a stylish bar. I perched on a stool (tall girl win, no need to climb) and looked across at the main restaurant. I recognised the table we had been seated at that night.

The new section was striking and modern, lots of glass and chrome lighting, plus those massively oversized wine glasses that I loved. It was the middle of the week, and the place was just the right level of busy. Buzzing enough to stop me feeling self-conscious but not packed.

I ordered a large Pinot Grigio from a tall barman with long, brown hair in a ponytail. He looked to be in his early twenties, which made me feel old as he smiled at me and swiped the credit card. Yes, I was still using the joint credit card.

“Just the one drink? Waiting for someone?” he asked.

“Only me tonight,” I shrugged and took a sip of the cold wine, savouring the sharp bite.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he began. “I didn’t mean to cause any offence.”

I waved my hand, smiling as I placed the glass back down. “No, you haven’t. My choice, I needed to think.”

“Well, I do take my duties as a bartender seriously, so if you need anything, let me know,” he smiled and held his hand out. “I’m Jonathan.” His hazel brown eyes focused on me, and I could see how confident he was in himself. I’d never been like that, it must be nice to not doubt everything.

“Lily,” I shook his hand. “Please make sure I don’t start doing shots. I have a bad history with shots.”

“No shots allowed,” he grinned. “I make a mean cocktail though, so let me know if you want me to talk you through the list. Also, bartenders are great listeners if you want to talk.” He smiled as he moved to serve a middle-aged couple who had arrived.

I swiped through my phone as I enjoyed the wine. I read through old messages from Zack. Silly, flirty comments and steamy suggestions. Mundane day-to-day tasks - What’s for dinner? Are we going to the gym? Every message mattered to me. I looked through the hundreds and hundreds of photographs I had of us. We always looked so right together, we complemented each other, I could imagine our children so clearly, chocolate button-brown eyes and dark curls, freckled noses... The sheer wealth of our life together hit me like a slap across the face. There were photographs of us with Cassie, my parents, all of his family, his university friends, our joint work friends, neighbours. Then on top of that, a multitude of us together on nights out, cooking together, lazing in the garden, intimate ones that I swiped off as fast as I could with a blush. I landed on my favourite, the two of us in the castle together, with the sunshine behind us. It still took my breath away every time I saw it.

A voice pulled me out of my trance, startling me. “On the house,” it said as another large wine was placed on the bar. “Don’t tell anyone.”

I looked up and saw Jonathan. “Thank you, that’s so kind, and definitely needed.”

I still had the phone in my hand, the photograph open. “Is that your boyfriend?” he asked.

“I wish that was a simple yes or no. Yes, I guess. We live together. We’re ‘on a break’.” I did the air quotes. His laugh was warm.

“Think we’ve all been there. He doesn’t look like he wants to be on a break. Was it your idea?”

“No, it was his. An argument got crazy.” I took a long drink, realising that I’d already had a lot, and it always gave me loose lips.

“Look at this picture and tell me what you think then.” I swiped to a picture of Luke and me, cuddled up at his place a few nights ago.

“I think you both look happy. They’re genuine smiles, and your eyes look happy too, which is the giveaway.” He passed the phone back. “Is this… how you spent your ‘break’?” He did the air quotes too, and I laughed.

“Yep. We go back a long way. I wondered what someone outside of the situation would think.”

“What’s the situation?” Before I could reply, the phone on the bar rang. He mouthed, “sorry,” as he walked away to answer it.

Alone again, I went through the photographs of me and Luke. There were a lot, covering a wider range of time but with large gaps, which made me feel sad. I knew what those gaps were. So many were in my flat to begin with, from when I didn’t go out and he and Cassie kept me company there. Lots from work and nights out with the team. Gorgeous scenes from Snowdonia, The Lakes, Pendle, all the places we’d hiked together. So many of us dancing around, and coffee shop selfies. Then a huge gap. The twelve-month gap in my phone would be the busiest in his.

This wasn’t generating any revelations, but the wine was good, and it was nice to chat to someone who didn’t know me. The bar was busier, I saw Jonathan glance at me between customers. “What’s your favourite spirit?” he asked.

I puffed out a breath. “I like them all, to be honest! Probably… vodka.”

He nodded. “Nice choice. I’ll use the good stuff. I finish my shift in fifteen minutes. Why don’t you take a seat over there, and I’ll bring you one of my finest vodka creations.” He gestured to a table near the back, which seemed to be for staff breaks. “Then you can tell me the rest, see if I can help?” His eyes were kind as he spoke to me.

“Sure,” I nodded as I gracefully hopped off the stool (again, thankful for long legs!) and headed to the table with the last of my wine.

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