“How are you feeling,” Aunt June asks.
Lily-Rose squeezes her hands into tight fists. “I want to kill Hugh and Rachel. I’m using every bit of self-control I have not to go out there and …”
“I’d feel the same too. But it won’t help Pia and the baby getting her stressed out.”
Lily-Rose blows out a long breath. She takes a seat at the reading table. “You know, he has bought me a gift every single year for my birthday. And not shitty presents like some of my friend’s husbands give but really thoughtful gifts that mean a lot to me. I missed that so much this year.”
Her birthday was a few days ago. Very low key—a nice dinner with the family and a bottle of wine. Hugh always made a big deal out of her birthday, and she always felt special.
Aunt June pats her shoulder. “It’s tough. And it will probably be tough for a while yet. Who knows, maybe it’ll be difficult for a long time. But I bet he thought about the fact that he didn’t spend your birthday with you too.”
She shrugs. “I doubt it. He would have been having too much fun with his new toy. I can’t believe it. The nerve of them two. And here I am hiding out in the kitchen giving them my silent blessing.” She leans closer to Aunt June and hisses, “She’s my best friend!”
Aunt June shakes her head and tisks. “He’s trying to cling to something familiar. She happened to be on offer. Men don’t cope on their own. Even men like Hugh. They bounce from one woman to the next as soon as they can.”
Lily-Rose lurches to her feet and groans. She can’t sit still, not while Hugh is out there playing happy families with Rachel.
“Take a few deep breaths,” Aunt June says.
Lily-Rose paces across the kitchen floor. She doesn’t know if she wants to cry or scream—perhaps both. Her throat is still raw from her screaming episode in the car earlier. “I can’t sit here and not say something.”
“Do you think that’s wise? Give it some time first,” Aunt June says.
But Lily-Rose is lost in an angry haze. Her heart is beating up into her throat. She storms out of the kitchen and marches to the living room. Her eyes meet Rachel’s first—pale blue eyes set within an orange tanned face. She once held such loving emotions for this woman, but now that Rachel has slept with her husband, disgust and dislike have clouded everything.
A small smile floats across Rachel’s lips, but it soon falters.
Hugh stands, his stance wary as though awaiting the approach of a wild lion.
“Can I please talk with you, Hugh?” Lily-Rose says through gritted teeth. Even to her own ears, her voice sounds choked.
He nods.
She marches off to the kitchen, Hugh following closely behind.
Aunt June quietly says, “I’ll leave you two alone,” and slips out of the room as they enter.
Lily-Rose stands with her back turned to him, attempting to gather her composure, but all she can summon is aggravation.
She whirls to face him and snarls. “How could you, Hugh? How fucking could you? She’s my best friend.” Her words are low and measured, filled with such fury and revulsion.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “You have no right to judge me. We’re getting a divorce. I can do what I want.”
Her eyes are wide with bemusement. “Are you serious? I could have slept with a thousand other men and this still would not be okay.”
“She’s a friend of mine too. It just happened.”
“Really. It just happened? You just happened to have crossed paths and your dick accidentally fell into her.”
He rolls his eyes. “Grow up. And bloody well give me more credit than that.”
She shakes her head. “I won’t give you more credit. You’re fucking my best friend. How the hell do you expect I feel about this? Is it some sick kind of revenge?”
“You have zero right to comment.” He stabs a finger in her direction. “Nothing can compare to what you did.”
She closes her eyes, squeezes her lips together. When she opens her eyes again, she pins him with her gaze. “This is a betrayal of the worst kind. The absolute worst. What you are both doing is wrong beyond measure, and you know it. If you think it’s okay, then perhaps I never knew you very well to start with.”
He shrugs. “Maybe you didn’t.”
She points out to the living room. “Pia is pregnant. We’re having a grandchild, Hugh. And you’re making it very difficult to even be in the same room as you.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you—not me—but you,” he says jabbing towards her chest, “had a fucking affair.”
She grits her teeth, leans in closer. “Yes, I had an affair. And I’m sorrier than you can ever believe. But it doesn’t excuse you from all future responsibilities. Now get out of my house because I feel sick looking at your face.”
“I’m here to see Pia.”
She shakes her head. Her words are measured as she say, “Leave now.”
He sighs. “I’ll take her out for coffee.”
“I don’t care what you do, just get the hell out of my sight.” She barges past him towards the living room and marches directly to Rachel, who gazes up at her from her seat on the couch with wide, apprehensive eyes.
“You think I was going to sit back and give you my blessing?” she screams, standing over Rachel.
“Calm down!” Rachel says, both hands raised in the surrender position.
“Mum, please … don’t…” Pia urges.
“Don’t tell me to calm down when you’re screwing my husband. You treasonous foul woman. Get the hell out of my house this minute and if I ever see your face again—”
“Lily-Rose!” Hugh barks.
Berating her like she is a child. “I’m fifty-one years old, Hugh. Do not speak to me like that you patronising bastard. Both of you leave this house now.”
“Mum,” Pia says, getting to her feet.
“You were never good enough for him anyway,” spits Rachel.
Rachel’s words needle through Lily-Rose as though they are tiny blades slicing her open. Without thinking, without blinking, her arm swings back then propels as hard as she can forward until her hand connects with Rachel’s face. A loud thwack sounds, followed by intense stinging that tingles across the surface of her palm then spreads up her arm. Rachel’s head flings to the side. Her hand comes up to cover her cheek.
“Get out!” Lily-Rose screams with more power, anger and violence than she has ever screamed before. She flings her arm back ready to strike again with all her strength, but a hand catches her wrist.
“That’s enough, Lily-Rose,” Hugh says firmly.
She’s breathing like a winded dog. All she wants is to hurt Rachel like she is hurting her. “You will never be welcome in this family. You will never be able to show your face near me. You hear me. Never.”
Hugh pulls her back, closer to him. Even through the vibrating anger, and even though his touch is harsh, she craves it. She hasn’t been this close to him for fourteen months. The realisation forces tears to her eyes.
“Get out. Please. Leave.” Her words no longer have force as anguish rockets through her.
“We’re going,” he says, soothing almost, definitely defeated. “I’ll give you a call later, Pia.”
Rachel is already heading for the door. Her face wears a big red welt.
Lily-Rose turns to face Hugh when he loosens his hold. “I won’t make this easy. No way.”
He sighs. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”
He holds his hand out for Rachel. She takes it. All the breath in Lily-Rose’s lungs wheezes from her mouth to see that intimacy. Her legs grow weak beneath her, but she remains steady. “Leave,” she whispers, no longer able to find her voice.
They stride away, hand in hand. Lily-Rose can’t watch for longer than a few moments.
Pia is teary, staring at her. Her brow is lined with worry and incredulity.
The front door slams and Lily-Rose flinches. She closes her eyes.
“How did you expect me to react?” she says, barely audible, then turns and walks away.
Aunt June is standing near the staircase, frowning. Lily-Rose walks past her and climbs the stairs, each footfall like her legs are filled with cement.
All she wants to do is cry. Cry and sob and howl until she can’t feel anymore.
Chapter 35
Pia
Today, Pia is officially a staff member of the Happy Duck Café, and she couldn’t be more grateful.
Each time she recalls yesterday’s events, her body feels weighted. Mum has always been emotional, dramatic even, but Pia has never seen her react like that. The anguish in her voice and face, the violent anger, was … heartbreaking. Not until that moment did she realise her mother is, despite being the one who ruined the marriage, suffering the most.
And what is difficult about that realisation, and curling her stomach with guilt, is the underlying belief that maybe her mother deserves to.
Pia shakes her head, willing these thoughts and this tight achiness in her muscles to leave. Working today will help, if only for the distraction.
Learning the ropes at the café is easy enough. From eleven until three, she will take orders, help prepare beverages, deliver meals to tables and clean dishes.
The day rushes by as tourists gush through the town in numbers that astound her—it bodes well for future business at the bed and breakfast.
At two-thirty, she is frothing milk for two lattes when a tall form walks through the front door.
Luca.
She giggles, bounces on her tiptoes and waves. “Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”
After Christmas Day, he headed up north for a surfing holiday.
His slow smile builds, two deep dimples carving into his cheeks, as he strides to the counter. She skips around the front to kiss his face and press her hand to his back. Thick reams of muscle meet her palm.
His lips against her cheek, the slight graze of stubble, excites her senses. Does he still smell like salt and sand or is it her imagination?
“Happy New Year,” he says mouth close to her ear.
She struggles for her next breath and pulls away from him. “Thank you. You too.”
She scoots back around the counter, steps lighter, to finish the milk. “How was your holiday?”
“Fantastic. I literally drank the sun for a week straight.”
She arches a brow, eyes trailing a path along his tanned forearms. “It shows.”
“Thought I’d stop in and grab some lunch for the boys. First-day blues. Better keep them happy.”
“I’m in the same boat now,” she says with a laugh as she holds out her apron and spins around in a circle.
“You look stunning,” he says with so much heat in his eyes, she swelters under that intense gaze. Images of being dressed in this apron and this apron alone while he slowly peels it off her penetrate her thoughts and make her cheeks hot.
“Luca, mate, how are you? Happy New Year,” Damien says, juggling two plates of hamburgers and chips. “Let me take care of this and I’ll come say hello.”
Luca winks. “No worries, mate. Take your time. Pia is taking good care of me.”
“I’ll pour these drinks, then I’ll take your order,” Pia says, checking the temperature on the thermometer poking from the top of the stainless steel milk jug.
He arches a brow. “That’ll be a change. You taking orders from me. I may enjoy it.”
Her lips take on a flirtatious tilt. “Don’t get used to it.”
He laughs. “So how was the rest of your Christmas?”
Her smile falls away, replaced by a frown and an eye roll. “Don’t ask. I’ll drop in to see you when I get home and tell you all about it.”
He winces. “Ouch. That bad?”
“Worse.”
Damien comes back and Pia sets about pouring frothy milk into richly fragranced espresso as he shakes Luca’s hand and they exchange New Year greetings. She watches the easy interaction between them—relaxed, carefree, and genuine. Seems to be the characteristics of the residents in this town and so far removed from what is happening with her own family at the moment.
“So what can I get for you?” Damien asks Luca.
Pia places the lattes on a tray and carries them out to the customers sitting on the back deck.
Damien is tearing the order note from his pad by the time she is back.
“Let me get these orders started. Pia, you’re right to cover out here?” he asks.
“Of course.”
“Looks like you’re settling in well,” Luca says.
“Yeah. It’s been a good day so far. Busy and without drama—which is a godsend at the moment. How are things going at the house?”
“Not quite so drama-free. I’m at a loss about what to do with those footings. Mary will not budge about removing that rose garden. At this rate, I’m going to have to forgo fixing the footings. Within a couple of years, or after the next good downpour, half the floor will be underground.”
Pia shakes her head. “Nan is the most stubborn lady I know. Maybe you should do it all one day while she’s out, then it’s done.”
He chuckles. “Believe me, I’ve thought about that. But I have a feeling she might wring my neck.”
“That is a definite possibility.”
A stream of customers flows in while Luca waits for his order. Pia floats to their tables taking orders and hands them to Damien out the back while she takes care of the drinks—mostly milkshakes and coffees. She ensures she clears away empty dishes and glasses and handles the requests for more drinks.
All the while, she can feel Luca’s focus on her.
She meets his eyes as she strides back from a table. He doesn’t look away. Promise burns in his brown gaze and the intensity of that unspoken promise impacts how the blood in her veins flows and the pace of her heartbeat.
This man is working his way under her skin, threading with the fibres of her heart, and she doesn’t quite know what to do about that. One part is saying let him be, you’ve got more important times ahead than pursuing a potential romance, while the other part, the louder part, is drawn to him like he has lassoed her and is slowly, each day, inch by inch, pulling her into his current.
“Pia, sweetie,” comes a loud male voice.
She startles out of her romantic daydream and turns to find her father strolling through the front door. He is wearing jeans and a collared shirt. The sun spills into the shop, catching facets of his grey hair—much greyer than she remembers.
“Dad, you’re early.” He said he would drop in after her shift is finished to say goodbye before he heads back to Sydney.
Luca stands taller near the counter, moving to the side.
Dad glances down at his watch and shrugs, but a smile is broad on his face. “Only twenty minutes. I’ll grab a coffee and read the paper while I wait.”
“A flat white?”
“Yes, please.”
“Oh, um … Dad, I’d like to introduce you to Luca Marchetta,” she says gesturing towards Luca. He offers a warm, easy smile to Dad. “Luca is the builder seeing to the renovations of Viewtree House. Luca, this is my father, Hugh Freedman.”
They shake hands with firm and strong pumps as men do.
“Good to meet you, Luca.”
“Likewise.”
“You must need broad shoulders dealing with that lot day in day out,” Dad says with a chuckle.
“So far so good,” Luca says.
“For the most part,” Pia adds. “Nan’s being a bit stubborn over some matters, but that’s to be expected.”
Dad slaps Luca’s shoulder. “I don’t envy you.”
Damien strolls out with a bag packed full of takeaway for Luca. “Here you go, mate. I’ll catch up with you soon for a beer, hey?”
Luca takes the bag. “Absolutely. You say the word, and I’ll be there.” He turns to Dad. “It was great to meet you, Hugh, but I better get back to it.”
“Good to meet y
ou too.”
Luca leaves with a final wave to Pia.
The remainder of her shift speeds by. Once over, she makes herself a cup of tea and heads out to join Dad on the back deck. She kisses his cheek before taking a seat. “Where’s Rachel?”
He frowns. “I thought it best if she doesn’t come today. She’s got some shopping to do while I’m here.”
“I’m relieved to tell you the truth. It’s not happy families at the moment, that’s for sure.”
Dad sighs. “I’m sorry about that. I can see how it was a really stupid idea to bring Rachel around to the house yesterday. It’s much too soon.”
“It really hurt Mum. More than I realised.”
He clasps his hands together as they rest on the table and frowns. “Yeah. It did.”
Pia shakes her head. “But I don’t want to talk about that. Tell me about your trip to Africa.”
Dad manages a warm smile and proceeds to tell her all about his latest venture overseas. He then wants all the details on her pregnancy so far and what happened at her last appointment with the doctor he referred her to.
“So what’s with the builder?” he asks.
She narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I saw the way you two were looking at each other when I walked in.”
She turns away from him, afraid her expression will give away the truth. “I don’t know what you mean?”
“Oh, come on, Pia,” he says with a chuckle. “I wasn’t born yesterday. You like him. He definitely likes you.”
She shrugs. “We’re friends. Not even that really. More like work acquaintances.”
He laughs again, this time with an offended undertone. “You doubt my emotional intelligence.”
“Not at all.”
“Does he know you’re pregnant?”
She shakes her head.
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Not yet,” she says. “It’s not really any of his business.”
Dad holds his hands up. “If you say so. But in case he is attracted to you, it’s best to be upfront with him.”
“Why, Dad? Because it’s such a terrible thing for me to be pregnant?”
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