Page 14 of Because of Her

“You’re allowed to move on,” is all she says, before finishing the last swig of her bottle and leaning back. With her face in the setting sun, she closes her eyes. Her hands fold across her waist, holding the cardigan she wears close. We got lucky this time of year, to have such a lovely day for a backyardparty, but as the sun lowers, the cool breeze has picked up. As a flurry rushes over us, I feel goosebumps prickle on my arms and wish I’d brought a sweater.

“Just because I’m allowed to, doesn’t mean I want to,” I spit back after contemplating Isobel’s statement. The look on her face has me regretting my mini outburst. I run a hand over my face, hating the snappy person I’ve become lately.

“Sorry,” I say. “I’m still getting over what I had with Audrey. You know more than anyone I never wanted things to work out this way.”

What Audrey and I had was great, until it wasn’t. When I first noticed our growing issues, I had tried to convince her we needed to work a little harder to find our relationship again. I found a couple’s therapist, organised date nights, and tried my hardest to romance Audrey; to be the man she fell in love with again. But nothing I did convinced her we were worth fighting for, and eventually, I resigned to the fact we had grown too far apart. We had become housemates who shared a child and a bank account, and the longer it went on, the harder it was to bring our love back.

Despite no longer loving Audrey, I’m not ready to move on. It’s not just my heart on the line anymore. I have to think about Maisie and what is right for her. Introducing a new woman into my life, into Maisie’s life, is simply not on the cards. No matter how much my heart flutters over the woman across the hall.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and staring into the now empty backyard. I realise I’ll have to get Maisie back to Audrey soon.

For a while, the only sound between us is the gentle fizz from the small puddle of beer and the rush of leaves from the trees.

“Issy?”

“What?”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Nah just thinking about all the cleaning I’ll have to do tomorrow.” She sighs, sitting up.

“Yeah, good luck with that.” I laugh. “I’ve got to take Maisie back.”

She stands up with me and we share one of those awkward adult siblings’ hugs. As we pull apart, she reaches around to whack the back of my head with her palm.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past.”

Her attempt at a Swahili accent is terrible, but I pick up on the Lion King reference and one side of my mouth creeps up. What started as a couple of kids finding a sneaky excuse to hit each other, eventually morphed into our coded way to remind each other to look forward, instead of back.

“Thanks,” I say. I appreciate the reminder, even if it has left a subtle sting under my hair.

Despite my sister’s nudge, I’m not sure the way forward is with Cassidy. Our history aside, I can’t bounce from one shitty marriage to another half-hearted relationship.

So I’ll look forward, but not across the hall. I’ll focus on gaining Audrey’s trust and showing her how Maisie can thrive with two homes. I’ll focus on making sure my days with my daughter are full of love and joy. I’ll focus on moving on from the life I thought I would have, and my future as a single dad.

CASSIDY

Sweat trickles down my forehead as I load the last pile of empty buckets into my van. It’s my last wedding of the season, but instead of relief at a quiet few months ahead, I’m nervous as all hell. The landlord increased rent on my tiny storefront, and unless I magically sell twice as many bouquets as I did last winter, it’s going to be a tough run.

Other florists would be settling in, enjoying a little peace before the craziness that always comes with Mother’s Day. But I refuse. Although it might be detrimental to my business, it’s the one day I refuse to open. It feels wrong in far too many ways. The fear my business will fail sweeps through me as a cool breeze raises the tiny hairs on my arms. Mother’s Day might be my only way out this year, and I hate the thought.

As glad as I am that I was able to secure a Friday wedding, self-doubt has me wondering why I hadn’t been able to secure an event for tomorrow as well.

My self-doubt creeps in a lot.

Especially since last weekend. Funny how one conversation with Amira about my sucky love life had me so confident to step away from dating and men, and one guy from my past made me question my decision. As much as Amira was right when she said I needed to take a break from dating, there’s something about the timing of Callum’s reappearance that feels like fate.

Either my head wasn’t screwed on tight enough, or part of me was still a messy teenage girl with a giant crush. I need to pull myself together. We’re not teenagers anymore, and a quickconversation with Callum showed he was still well and truly out of my league. Maybe even more than he used to be. What did he say his job was, running the board? It seems important. White collar, upper management style professional. Very unlike little old me getting her hands all green and wet cutting flowers every day.

And that’s without thinking about the conversations we used to share in the tearoom. Callum was all ‘when I’m a dad’ and ‘imagine a little me running around’, and at the time, I was the same. But things change, life happens and what we thought we wanted doesn’t always pan out.

Fate aside, I need to remember those conversations.

Closing the van, I pull my phone out of my pocket and head back towards the ceremony location. I’ve never done a wedding at this winery, but it’s stunning. I remind myself to thank my cousin for recommending me to the bride. He is the new event coordinator, and I’m hopeful he’ll continue to recommend me as a vendor. Either way, photos of all the different arrangements and locations will be great for all my socials.

My Betty Blooms pages have thousands of followers, and I regularly get shared across other vendor pages. But if I can grow it even further, it could mean that next wedding season, my services are highly sought after, and fully booked out. I chuckle at the thought.A florist can dream, right?

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