Page 45 of Second Chance with Seth

We’ve slowed to our usual mid-morning dribble of customers, and I glance up at him, taking a welcome break from cleaning down the barista machine.

“Of course.”

“It’s about Seth.”

It’s as though he expects me to change my mind once I know the subject matter, but I’m not going to. If anything, I’m even more intrigued, and I put down the cloth I’ve been using to polish the chrome, and fold my arms across my chest, before realizing how defensive that probably looks, and putting them in my pockets instead.

“What about him?” I say, remembering to talk.

“I think he’s okay.” He moves a little closer, lowering his voice. “He may have got things wrong in the past, but he’s sorry, and he’s trying to make it right… so you might wanna think about cutting him some slack.”

I wish I’d stuck with the defensive pose now. Standing like this, I feel a little exposed, bordering on vulnerable. I don’t want Owen to know that, though. I’ve never revealed the real me to anyone other than Seth, and I’m not going to start now. So,rather than changing my posture, I just tip my head at him. “I’m trying,” I say. “But it’s hard when we get so little time to talk.”

“I felt like that when I first met Tomas. It was tough learning to trust after everything that had happened with Colin, but Tomas convinced me I had to make the time if I wanted to be happy again. It’s the same with you. You need to prioritize… show Seth he’s worth it.”

I can’t help recalling the fight Seth and I had on the day he left, and how he told me I never spared any time for him, wondering if that was how I made him feel back then… like he wasn’t worth it.

I turn my head away, remembering the scene upstairs, and how he told me he was sick of coming second. I blamed him for asking too much, but was he? Was he really?

I shake my head, feeling the full scrutiny of Owen’s gaze, and let my eyes settle on table six.

“I need to clear those cups,” I say, bustling away before he can say anything else.

The table needs a wipe, too, and once I’ve done that and taken the cups to the kitchen, I return to the barista machine, only to find Owen waiting for me.

“Are you like this with him, too?” he asks.

“Like what?”

“Always finding excuses not to talk.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he says. “Those cups could have waited.”

“Maybe they could.”

“But you didn’t wanna talk?” I shrug my shoulders and he shakes his head. “Don’t push him away, Everly. He may have screwed up, but we all make mistakes. Seth knows he did, but remember, he came back. Not only that, but he’s still here, even though he said he had to go back to Concord today. That has to mean something.”

“Does it?”

“Yes. It means he wants this. He wants you. Don’t forget that.”

I let out a sigh and nod my head, and rather than push me any further, he goes into the kitchen and leaves me alone for a while.

I lean back against the countertop, wondering if he’s right. Have I been pushing Seth away? I know I did on Saturday, when he first came back. But that was justified… at least in my mind. I was scared he’d find out about River, and needed to think through how to tell him about her. What about yesterday, though? We went for a walk, didn’t we? Okay, so I put a time limit on it, using River as an excuse… again. And looking back, I don’t know why I did that. After all, we both know there are things we need to talk about, which we haven’t even touched on yet. Was it that I was scared of what I might hear, or was it that I was frightened of letting him get too close, knowing he was leaving again? He hasn’t left, of course, but I wasn’t to know he’d change his plans, was I? So, was that it? Was I protecting myself from the only man who’s ever made me feel safe?

It’s bizarre.

But that’s exactly what it feels like.

I think that was the busiest lunchtime we’ve had so far this year. It probably wasn’t helped by River waking up at just after one-thirty, which meant poor Owen has had to manage by himself for a while, until I can safely settle her in her crib and leave her under the watchful gaze of Sandra and Lyla, both of whom are still rushed off their feet. Harriet should have been here, but she called in sick, and Teresa couldn’t cover. It’s not been ideal for anyone.

Going through into the coffee shop, I let out a sigh at the chaos that’s ensued in my absence, giving Owen an apologeticsmile, which he returns, before I set about clearing some tables. Piled high with plates and cups, I go back out to the kitchen, where Lyla groans at me, although she keeps it quiet so as not to disturb River.

“Thanks for that,” she says, glancing at the dirty dishes.

“Anytime.”

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