Page 49 of One Sweet Day in Lovely Bay
Cally shook her head as she stared at the inscription, and her mind zoomed to Cassia and his marriage. She wondered how many chances Logan had had to tell her the truth, how many moments he could have come clean about his past but hadn’t—agonised about why in the world he hadn’t just told her.
She cast her mind back, remembering, and went through loads of times when he could have opened up. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the memories and turned the laptop back over. Cally sighed as the flashing light indicated a customer was waiting and rubbed her eyes tiredly. The chatbot work was going nowhere. After dealing with the customer who wasmoaning about the quality of a pair of cashmere socks and then another whose delivery had been eaten by the neighbour’s dog, she glanced at the clock – still early, but late enough that she could justify another cup of tea. She pushed back from the desk, padding into the tiny kitchen to put the kettle on. As she waited for it to boil, she stared out the window at the quiet streets of Lovely Bay. The town was waking up with people on their way to work or out to grab a morning coffee. It all looked so normal, so unchanged, though, to her, everything felt different. The world had shifted on its axis the moment she'd discovered Logan's secret, and she was still struggling to find her footing. The first pull of the rug from under her had been when she’d found the certificate; then, the rug had been yanked right out when Cassia had imparted her wisdom about the Henry-Hicks boys.
The kettle clicked off, and she made her tea on autopilot, her mind still churning with memories and what-ifs. There had been so many moments and opportunities for Logan to have come clean, like a day at the manor when she'd been helping with the decluttering and had stumbled across an old photo album. She'd called Logan over, curious about the faded pictures of a much younger him. He'd groaned good-naturedly when he'd seen what she was looking at. 'I'd forgotten about those.’ He’d said. ‘Not my finest hour, fashion-wise.'
Cally had giggled, pointing to a picture of teenage Logan with wildly spiked hair. 'I think you pulled off the alternative look rather well.'
Logan had laughed, settling beside her on the dusty floor. 'I went through a bit of a rebellious phase,' he'd admitted. 'Drove my mum mad.'
They'd spent the next hour poring over the album, Logan sharing stories about each photo. He'd been fairly open, or so she’d thought, but he'd never once mentioned Cassia. Not even hinted at the fact that he'd been married.
Cally took her tea back to the desk, settling in front of the laptop. She traced the engraved 'Blackcurrant' with her finger and shook her head.
How many times had Logan called her that? How many times had he used that nickname? How many times had she loved it? All the while, he’d lied by omission. She felt as if him keeping his marriage from her wiped away all the good things he’d done. Cally shook her head, trying to dislodge the doubts. She knew she was being irrational, knew that Logan's past didn't necessarily negate everything they'd shared. Hurt, though, was raw. Nice and fresh.
Her laptop pinged three times and she turned back to the chatbot work. At least that would take her mind off Logan, but even though she was determined to lose herself in the mindless task of customer service, as she typed out responses to disgruntled shoppers, her mind kept drifting back to him. All she could think about was how she’d been taken in by him, how he’d princess-ed her, the moments they'd shared, all the opportunities he'd had to come clean. It made her wonder what else he’d not told her.
As she copied and pasted a predetermined response about a refund, her mind flitted here and there. There had been a weekend away in the countryside when they'd stayed in a quaint little bed and breakfast. They'd spent hours just walking, talking, sharing bits and bobs, discussing dreams, fears, all sorts. Logan had opened up about his family pressures, about his doubts, and insecurities. Cally had felt so close to him then, so connected. He’d said that when he was with her, he could just be himself with no pretences and no expectations. He’d told her that he was just Logan when he was with her. What a load of old hogwash that had been. Just Logan, who conveniently forgot that he’d been married. Now, looking back, she wondered if perhaps itmight have been a line he used. Cassia’s words about the Henry-Hicks boys echoed through her head.
As the little dots that told her another customer was waiting flashed, she sighed and got to it. A few hours went by with more of the same until the end of her shift when she logged off and closed her laptop. Pushing away from the desk, she had a really quick shower, got dressed, popped a jumper on and headed to the front door. She needed to clear her head, get out of the flat where everywhere she looked she could see Logan.
Stepping out of the gate at the back of the deli, she nodded a distracted greeting to Alice, who was just closing the boot on her car.
'You alright, our Cally?' Alice asked. ‘How are you?’
Cally did a funny, tight smile. 'Fine, thanks. Just off out for a bit of fresh air. I’m heading over to the beach.’
Before having to get into small talk, she flicked her hand, waved and smiled. Setting off at a brisk pace, her feet pounded against the pavement. The familiar streets of Lovely Bay blurred past her, and she tried to focus on her breathing as if it would somehow cleanse her. It did nothing of the sort. Deep breath in, deep breath out. She thought about her grandma, about the courses she’d looked at doing, about how she’d managed to save up quite a bit of money for a deposit for a flat. Anything to keep her mind off Logan. But as she stomped along, all she could really think about was him. She could see him everywhere. A bench they'd sat on with a coffee, the ice cream kiosk where he had laughed at her for getting more ice cream on her nose than in her mouth. Even the seagulls reminded her of him and the time he'd tried to defend their chips from a persistent bird.
Cally pushed her legs and picked up the pace. She was hurrying along so quickly she was almost at jogging speed and didn’t stop until she got to the beach. Standing looking over the sea, she caught her breath and her heartbeat slowly returnedto normal as she watched the sun glinting off the waves and thought about how beautiful and peaceful it was. Inside, she felt anything but peaceful. Her mind trundled along with memories, doubts, anger, hurt and just to top it off, a whole lot of confusion too.
Part of her was trying to tell herself that she was being completely over the top and totally dramatising pretty much her whole existence. Was she being fair? Logan had lied, yes, he had kept a huge secret from her. But did that negate everything else? Was it that bad? All the good times, all the moments of connection? How much he’d said he loved her. How she loved him.
She remembered the way he had looked at her the day of the races, how proud he'd seemed before she’d told him what she’d found and it had all kicked off. She remembered the care he'd taken in helping her navigate his world. Cally sighed and shook her head. She was no closer to knowing what to do. One side of her wanted to forgive Logan and jump right back in. The other side wanted to guard her heart, to protect herself from further hurt. To never look in his direction or the stupid Henry-Hicks lot ever again.
Deciding that she’d give it a few more days of mulling it over and after sitting on a bench for a bit trying to take on as much fresh air as she could, she made her way back to the deli. As she walked past the front window, Alice was fiddling with the awning out the front. There was concern etched on Alice’s face.
'Feeling better?' Alice asked as Cally approached.
Cally nodded. ‘I think I am. Amazing what a bit of fresh air does for you.'
‘You weren’t the full ticket before.’
‘I’d just done a shift and I got up before the birds, so I was feeling it.’
‘Oh well. You need an early night.’
‘I do. See you later.’
Cally trudged up the steep stairs to her flat, her legs heavy after her walk along the beach. As she pushed open the door, she sighed to herself; at least the flat was cosy and invitingandshe felt safe. Feeling as if she’d been run over by a steam roller together with a bad night’s sleep and the early morning, all she wanted now was to cocoon herself on the sofa. She needed blackcurrant, crisps, sour laces and any other junk food laden with chemicals she could find—time for chief comfort and distraction. She was going full-on wallow mode.
She padded into the kitchen, filled the kettle, and reached for a new bottle of blackcurrant cordial. As the kettle bubbled away, she rummaged through her cupboards and started to gather supplies; a packet of chocolate digestives, a bag of marshmallows, salt and vinegar crisps, the posh ones not home brand. Proper wallowing required proper bad full-on junk snacks.
With her steaming mug of hot blackcurrant in hand and her snacks tucked under her arm, she made her way back across the sitting room, set everything down on the coffee table, and went about creating the perfect cocoon for one. First, she drew the blinds, shutting out the late afternoon light, then she flicked on the fairy lights strung along the walls, grabbed the softest, fluffiest throw from the back of the sofa - a Christmas gift from Eloise - and wrapped it around herself like a protective shield.
As she sipped the steaming blackcurrant, she scrolled through her Netflix queue, searching for the perfect film to match her mood. Something that wouldn't require too much emotional investment. Her finger hovered over the button as she debated between a well-worn favourite and a new release. In the end, she opted for a classic romcom she'd seen a dozen times, and as the opening credits rolled, she snuggled deeper into her throw, cradling her mug of hot blackcurrant.
Stuffing crisps into her mouth one after the other, as the film progressed, she lost herself in the familiar plot. The misunderstandings, emotions, missed connections, grand romantic gestures seemed so simple on screen. If only real life were as easily resolved as a ninety-minute movie. In her case, not so much. She was just reaching for another biscuit when her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She froze, her hand hovering mid-air as she saw Logan's name flash up on the screen.
