Page 63 of Because of Her

“Is she asleep?” Concern laces her words as they hitch in her throat.

“I think so,” I whisper. Maisie’s breathing is still slow, but with every few exhales a slight whimper escapes.

Audrey shifts her legs as she sits on the floor. She leans back against my leg and drapes her arm over Maisie like a blanket. She sings softly, her breathy allure comforting me, even though it was intended for Maisie.

It’s not until the nurse calls Maisie’s name I notice Cassidy has left. My heart twists at the realisation, dropping low in my stomach. I hate myself for it.

My daughter is in pain in my arms, and I’m thinking about Cassidy. I’m feeling things for her I have no right to feel. Not now at least. Cassidy is a distraction I so badly wanted, but I don’t need.

I was so worried about how me being with Cassidy would make Maisie feel, I never stopped to think she might actually get hurt. But she did. And I will never let that happen again.

CASSIDY

From this side of the cart, the roasted smell of coffee beans blend with the sweet aroma of syrups and the subtle creaminess of warm milk. Amira kicked me off barista duty after my second failed attempt at making a heart in the milk foam. Instead, I’ve resigned to writing names on paper cups and placing homemade biscuits into little paper bags—when I’m not assembling bouquets or relieving Madison behind the till.

Pride swells through me. Teachers who told me I didn’t have enough motivation to work in the creativity field be damned. I spent years building my skills and business to the level it is today. And it’s all thanks to an idea, and a best friend with a passion for coffee and sweets.

It’s been busy. Hectic. None of us have stopped moving since we opened hours ago.

“I’m going live.” Blondie bounces her way over, her expert waves flowing behind her.

Amira wipes her hands on her denim apron, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Okay, I’m ready.” She tilts her head a little to the left, with her chin tucked down and her shoulders rolled back.

I attempt to straighten the collar of my shirt—denim, to match Amira’s apron. My hands are still up around my neck when Blondie slides an arm around me. Phone in the air above us, she smiles at the screen. Hearts and thumbs float across the filtered image of us. I look odd. Good, maybe, but odd. My nose is smaller, lips bigger, and my skin is flawless.

“You guys have all seen the incredible floral wall in my videos andguess what!” Blondie pauses for emphasis, batting her lashes. “I ambackat Betty Blooms Boutique and now they havecoffee!”

Flipping the screen, she shows off our rustic coffee cart. Amira waves, leaning over the counter with a wink. Behind me, Madison coughs. Twice.

Turning to face her, I don’t see him enter the room. Madison wobbles her head, trying to redirect my attention, but it’s too late. I feel his presence before he speaks.

“Rogue.” His voice is a warm breeze on a hot summer’s day. Something that you want to feel refreshing, but instead leaves you burning. And sticky.

We’ve barely spoken since Maisie got hurt at the park. I haven’t seen him. He’s been staying with her at his ex-wife’s house. The brief message he sent last weekend said Maisie had broken her collarbone and needed to wear a sling for six to eight weeks. Guilt jackhammered into me, and I still have no idea how to make it better.

If Maisie and Callum hate me now, I get it. If I hadn’t been at the park, Callum would have been playing with Maisie. Paying attention to her, instead of me. The vision of Maisie lying on the ground in pain is seared into the back of my eyelids. I’d been too busy imagining a fantasy where Callum and I were together that I hadn’t even noticed Maisie fall.

Kids get hurt all the time, that’s what Amira said. And Noah. And Madison. And even Callum. But it doesn’t matter how many messages he sent saying it wasn’t my fault, I blame myself.

My shoulders tremor at his proximity. I can’t turn to him, but I also can’t turn away.

“Callum.” His name is nothing but a whisper on shaky breath.

He runs his hands down my shoulders, bringing them to a stop. With a squeeze, he steps away.

My cheeks burn as he strolls toward the floral wall, remembering the last time he was in the boutique. And my chest aches as I remember why I can’t allow myself to feel that way.

Even so, the distance I put between us over the past week has done nothing to eliminate the annoying way my insides flutter when he is near. Or the way I linger by his door, even though he isn’t home. Now he is close, my feet itch to walk up to him. To throw myself in his arms and beg him for forgiveness. No matter how hard I try to fight it, the bead of hope still resides in my heart. The one that thinks maybe one day, somehow, we could make this work. Despite all the red flags that have shown us why we can’t.

Because if Maisie getting hurt wasn’t the universe’s way of telling me I needed to back off, I don’t know what it was. I’ve been fooling myself this whole time, thinking Callum and I could be something more.

My thumb scratches against my finger, the red skin now raw and painful. Silently cursing Amira for not letting me wear jewellery near the food.

“Food handling 101,” she had said in the most know-it-all voice.Fuck that.I’m not even making the coffee now.

A gentleman distracts me, pointing out his partner and asking me to create a bouquet for her. Her yellow and white sundress is far too summery for this time of year, but I use it as my inspiration. Wrapping a combination of white peonies and daisies and wattle with white paper, I use a jute ribbon to hold it all together. The gentleman beams.

“It’s perfect for her.”

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