Page 54 of Because of Me

Finally looking up, I find Kylie’s head poking in through a small gap in the sliding doorway. Her hair is a few shades lighter than when she started, but she still sports the same red lipstick and long side braid. Since starting a few months ago, Kylie has hit the ground running and after fast becoming one of our best waitresses, I promoted her to the position I once pretended to have. She knows the wine menu back to front, always finds something to do during our quieter moments, and regularly picks up shifts whenever we need the extra help. We needed someone like her, and the events run a hell of a lot more smoothly with her at the helm. No more calling Cassidy at the last minute for a flower delivery, no more near double bookings we have to scramble to accommodate. She’s switched on more than I could be when I was juggling as much as I was.

“I was just … doing a breathing exercise.” I admit, figuring there’s no point trying to make up some other excuse for knocking. “Everything okay out there?”

“Yeah, all good. Most of the lunch crowd has left, we’re just cleaning everything to prep for dinner. Not too many bookings tonight, being a Sunday and all.” She pulls the door open a little more, hesitating before taking a step into the office. Once in the room, she closes the door, but remains standing.

“You can sit,” I offer, stretching a hand across the desk for her.

With a shy smile, she takes a seat, crossing her legs and holding her hands in her lap. “Is everything okay?”

“No.”Shit, I hadn’t meant to say it out loud and immediately try to back track. “Sorry, yes. With the winery, everything is fine. The build is underway and any disruption to normal trade should be minimal. It’s fine.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a but?”

I shake my head. “It’s okay. Not really the kind of stuff you talk to your employee about.”

“Something you talk to a friend about?”

“Yeah, something like that …” I trail off, because although she’s offering an ear if I need it, I still don’t think I should be dumping all my emotions onto her. We get along fine, but I’m still her boss. None of our conversations have gone beyond wine pairings or simple small talk.

“I know you’re my boss and all, but I’m here, yeah?”

I give a sharp nod and tap my knuckle against the desk. “Thanks Kylie.”

After Kylie left my office with a knowing scowl earlier, I’d begun to pack up, but the thought of returning back to Amira’s apartment held me back.

So, I sat in my office as the dinner guests began streaming in. I checked in with the kitchen crew and made an appearance as the cellar door team packed up for the day. I pottered around until every last guest had paid and left, and then I stayed to help clean up after what turned out to be a relatively busy evening.

Anything to delay going home and facing the harsh reality of dragging my suitcase back down all those damned stairs.

I keep the radio off the whole way home—although I should probably stop calling it that—letting the low rumble of tires fuse with the thumping in my ears until I’m not sure which is which. The lights in the stairwell are blinding through my hazy eyes, which only makes the inky darkness of the apartment more intense.

Kitch panics at the sound of me opening the door. She clatters as she jumps down from, I assume, her climbing tree and hides from the unknown danger. The inflatable Santa Amira set up on the balcony sends a soft white glow through the apartment, casting long shadows from every corner. Feeling my way along the hallway, I drop onto the couch. I kick my shoes off and twist my body to lay with my head on the armrest.

This weekend really went from good to worse, and I have no idea how to come back from here. Amira and I were making ground, and yes it was a rocky path for her, but I really thought we were trudging uphill. One night with her extended family and overbearing father and it feels like she’s been shoved down the path and tumbled all the way to the bottom again.

Realising there’s no threat, Kitch emerges from under the couch, leaping up to rest on top of me. Her gentle purring massages its way into my chest, easing a little of the sharp stabbing. I pet her, giving myself time to breathe and relax, even though it won’t do anything for my raging headache or hurt feelings.

I don’t know how to make Amira realise what we have is more than circumstantial.

Pulling the pillow from underneath my head I hold it over my face and scream. Not enough that any of the neighbours might worry, but just to get some of this frustration out. Kitch paws at my chest, nuzzling under the pillow I’m holding until her whiskers tickle my chin.

From across the room, my phone vibrates in the pocket of my jacket. Laziness tells me to ignore it, but an uneasy feeling washes over me. What if it’s Amira? What if something is wrong? She should be home from the boutique by now. I’d assumed she was just out with her cousin, since Ella’s missing too. But what if …

As the thoughts begin to scramble I leap from the couch and race to the dining table. My foot collects the leg of Amira’s favourite red chair, and I topple over it, throwing my arms out just in time to break my fall. Pain shoots through my wrist and I let it out with a shout. My phone vibrates again though, and my mind is fixated on worst-case scenarios, so I shake my wrist vigorously while reaching for my jacket with the other hand.

I find my phone at the same time the door to the apartment slams open. Hastily, I read the notification on the screen as hurried footsteps clatter down the hall. Scowling at myself for being so panicked over a stupid marketing text message, I throw my phone on the table.

“Noah?”

I laugh, the sound near maniacal as Cassidy drops down beside me.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” I groan as I pull myself to stand.

From the kitchen, Callum throws me a bag of frozen peas. “Your wrist looks swollen already,” he states when I catch the bag and look at him with raised eyebrows. “And I don’t need to know what caused it.”

“I tripped.” The ice-cold bag feels good against my throbbing wrist. I sit in the chair that caused my doom, resting my arm on the table and holding the peas on the swelling bruise.

---