Page 56 of Lily, Unwritten

You are the best of me

and I, the best of you

We meet in the middle

like a brilliant burst of stars

so bright,

that love itself would be blinded

I put the card down on the table in front of me, gulping back emotions as my hand trembled. There was only one way that had been delivered. I wasn’t ready, I would never be ready for that.

I gathered all the cards together and hurried back inside, locking the back door and retreating to the safety that was my duvet.

I didn’t want to look at it, but I needed to read it again. I read it over and over. Was it Luke? How the hell would he know where to find me? How… Cassie!

“Birthday girl!” She yelled down the phone as she answered. “It’s early. You having a lovely morning?”

“Why did I get a hand delivered card with a beautiful poem inside?”

“I’m pregnant, you aren’t allowed to be mean to me!”

“Cassie…” I put the phone down on my pillow, laying my head down next to it as realisation dawned on me. “Why did you tell him?”

“I didn’t… I just left some little clues. He’s intelligent, you know those lawyer types.”

“So, he’s here?” My hands shook with nerves, I promptly squashed them down.

“I don’t know. I left things vague. I didn’t want to push either of you. Although frankly, you both need your heads bashing together, have done for a long time.”

“I’m not ready…”

“Sweetheart, where Luke’s concerned, you were born ready. Listen…” She coughed and I heard the rustling of sheets. “Gotta go, bloody morning sickness…”

She ended the call abruptly, poor thing, I knew she was still struggling with nausea. But what had she done? Was he on his way? All too familiar feelings of disquiet curdled up within me.

If the doorbell went I just wouldn’t answer it. It wasn’t necessarily him anyway, and if it was… he’d take the hint.

I spent extra time in the shower… that way I wouldn’t hear the door if it did go.

I spent ages blow drying my hair… that would also drown out the noise of the door.

Purely because it was my birthday, no other reason, I felt like I should look pretty. I wore a brand new, beautiful floral dress which made my boobs look amazing, paired with suede boots I hadn’t worn in ages and a warm jacket. Thirty-year-old Lily was ready to head to the beach. Being out of the house was a good idea, it also meant I couldn’t hear the door should anyone knock on it. I had never in my life spent so much energy thinking about a bloody front door.

I meandered up the road and waited at the bus stop. The buses weren’t that regular on Sundays. I left the village so rarely there wasn’t much point in changing the habits of a lifetime and buying a car. I was quite happy with the slower journey and the chance to daydream out of the window.

Paranoia had set in, though, which was stupid; this was all in my head. Luke wasn’t going to charge down here and try to rescue me on my birthday. Even if he did I wasn’t interested. I was completely not interested. I didn’t need rescuing.

Convinced of these facts I stepped up onto the bus and smiled at the driver as I paid my fare. Still nothing untoward had happened, and nor would it. It had definitely all been in my head. It was probably just a local customer who saw the card and thought of me… and wrote romantic poems… like my ex. I sat down with a dramatic sigh, trying to chase the thoughts out of my head. Scared to admit to myself that there was a slight tremor of excitement alongside my fear.

The feeling of stepping off the bus and being at the seaside never got old. I smiled at the sensation as the cold, salty air hit my lungs. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky today; it was bitter but bright and clear; perfect weather for how I wanted my birthday to be.

I headed straight for the sea front, smiling as I saw the beach on the horizon. Something about it just calmed me. I’d love to have a place by the sea one day. Maybe my own bakery. It would be chaotic in summer with the tourists, but during the winter, I could just take my time, stroll like this, enjoy the moments. What was life without these moments, after all? Slowing down had made me realise, for certain, it was the little things that made life worth living.

I passed by a large coffee shop and looked longingly inside, but I was trying to support smaller, local businesses so decided to continue and find my favourite. A small café we’d supplied cakes to over the summer. A cosy spot on the beach with a large coffee and my thoughts to myself was what I needed. I had a book and, of course, chocolate in my bag. There was pretty much always a book and chocolate in my bag.

It soon became apparent, though, that on a quiet, out-of-season Sunday, my favourite local businesses were closed. No caffeine for me. I’d given up a lot of vices, including wine and designer shoes, but coffee and I would never be torn apart.