Page 62 of Tiers of Joy

“Thank you Esme! I won’t let you down.” Josie promises excitedly before running out of the door to her mum who is waiting in their truck.

“Thank you Esme! I look forward to working here. Gaige was right, your sponges really are moist.” She smiles.

I feel terrible for lying to her all of this time. I can't keep it in any longer.

“Amy, come and sit down with me for a second.” I gesture to the chair.

“Okay, did I do something wrong?” She asks.

“Oh god no, not at all. I owe you a massive apology and I hope it doesn’t effect you working here because I really think you’ll be great.” I smile.

“Okay.” She says cautiously.

“I slept with Gaige.” I blurt and wince, waiting for her reaction.

“Okay.” She shrugs.

“No honey. I slept with Gaige when you were dating him.” I clarify.

“Oh well I know that.” She states, surprising the ever loving crap out of me.

“What?!” I ask confused.

“Gaige told me straight away. I wasn’t bothered as we were only dating. We never even slept together. He was nice and all but a bit quiet and grumpy. I saw how he was with you though. He was different with you.” She states.

I sit back in my chair. I’m stunned. The whole time I felt guilty, why didn’t he tell me?!

“I thought you knew that he told me. Oh gosh, you’ve been carrying that guilt on your shoulders the entire time?” She says sympathetically.

“The bastard. Why would he not just tell me that?” I ask.

“I don’t know, maybe because he wanted you to think that him and I were more.” She states.

“I was going to try with him. I ran to tell him. Then I saw you two together and thought he was happily involved with you.” I say, feeling gutted.

“That time you came into the bar?” She asks.

I nod.

“Oh Esme.” She hugs me.

“Well who knows if we will see him now? Considering that he’s gone back to Chicago.” She says.

“What?!” I yell.

“Oh hell, you didn’t know that either, did you?” She sighs.

“No I fucking did not! Where did you hear that?” I ask. I stand up and open a bottle of wine.

“You keep wine in the bakery kitchen?” She asks in disbelief.

“Yes, for moments just like this one.” I open the wine and drink a large amount. “Who told you he was in Chicago?” I ask.

“Bob. He called Bob a week after he’d gone. His mother had been in contact. Well, apparently she’d been tracking him down for years. Anyway, she sorted herself out and become a high profile councillor. She has a book and everything, even does those radio call in shows.” She says.

“Who’s his mum, Dr Phil?!” I ask.

Amy laughs.

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