Page 35 of Cream & Sugar
My husband, let’s call him Steve, and I [62F] were together for twenty-nine years. I loved him unconditionally and never questioned my attraction to him, nor my sexual preferences. A decade ago now, I lost him to cancer and it all but broke me. I spent a long time alone, thinking it would be impossible to find another man I loved as much as I did Steve.
I was half-right.
I’ve been with my current partner [51F] for almost a year. She is bold, exciting and I am completely besotted with her. While she could never replace Steve, I know for sure what I’m feeling is real because it’s just as wonderful as before. Different, but wonderful.
Love is love. Sexualitycanchange and it’s quite possible for it to happen later in life: I am living proof of that. Or maybe I always had this potential and just never met the right woman before. My advice: love who you want and cherish every moment. If you like him and he likes you, then go get him, tiger!
The comment is from last month and has several replies from people confessing reading it made them tear up. The author of the original post responded too with a short, but tender:
Thank you, maybe I will.
I wonder if he did.
The rest of the morning snails by as I try not to think about Freddie or work but as it turns out, it’s either one or the other. As a distraction, I make a big batch of apple flapjacks to sell, struggle through some push ups, and watch an episode of a true crime documentary I’ve fallen asleep to a lot in recent weeks. Nothing really works though, and every time I think about either Freddie or the café, the other automatically springs to mind. How am I supposed to not fixate on him when I’m going to see him most days anyway? Well, that one’s easy: don’t hire him in the first place. Unfortunately, it’s too bloody late for that.
Once the flapjacks have cooled, I cut them up and put them in boxes. I stare at the golden bricks of cake, each one topped off with a fan of sliced apple. They look sublime. Seems a shame to keep them here while they’re still fresh.
Maybe I should swing by work quickly, just to check everything’s okay? I can drop these off at the same time, so it won’t look like I’m worrying, even though I am. I just don’t like the idea that they’ve been totally swamped and Anna’s too concerned for my wellbeing to tell me. With Freddie being so new, perhaps an extra pair of hands will be welcome…
Before I know it, I’m in the car and driving to work.
Just a quick visit, I promise myself. In and out.
Anna can’t be too angry; I resisted coming in for a whole twenty-four hours! Plus, I’m bringing flapjacks.
The fact Freddie will be starting his shift around now is pure coincidence, of course.
13
Freddie
“No,nope,noway!Turn around and walk right back out that door, mister!”
I look up from the table I’m cleaning, shocked to hear Anna speaking to a customer this way.
Only it’s not a customer.
Shaun’s bulky frame is halfway through the doorway, cradling a couple of Tupperware boxes in his arms. He’s wearing a cable knit jumper and a frayed pair of pale blue jeans. They’re baggier than his black ones which is probably a good thing—less eye-catching, although I’m still fighting not to stare.
There’s a freshness to him today, like he’s had a good sleep. His beard is neatly trimmed and his thick brown hair is tousled in a “I swear I woke up like this” style. Ugh. Why does he have to look so good? Especially now I know he’s out-of-bounds.
At Anna’s outburst, Shaun hesitates, his eyes darting nervously between Anna and I like a schoolboy caught stealing sweets.
He steps inside and the door swings shut behind him. “I’m just—”
“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” Anna scowls, her hands on herhips.
Shaun glances at me again. For some reason, my stomach fills with dread. If today’s his day off, why is he here? Maybe he’s decided my behaviour was inexcusable after all and he’s come along to sack me in person.
But then he smiles, a big, goofy grin that says “whoops, I’ve really done it now.”
He’s not angry! Does that mean he’s forgiven me? I smile back at him and, before I can stop myself, give him a wink.
Down boy, I scold myself.
Thankfully, Shaun doesn’t seem to register the wink. He strolls up to the counter and places the Tupperware on top of the display fridge.
“Apple flapjacks,” he says, loud enough that I can hear.
