Page 134

Kat has been amazing, keeping me busy for the past couple of days. Yesterday, she took me out to the harbour. We saw the bridge, the Opera House, and discovered some amazing little nooks and crannies I never knew existed.

Today, Kat and Millie took me to The Rocks. We grabbed a coffee, browsed through some bookstores, and stumbled upon a small art shop. I stocked up on pencils because I’ve decided to take a break from painting. I want to try graphite and charcoal.

Change of scenery, change of style, I guess.

As I sit here now, sketching on a fresh pad of paper, I can feel a bit of the weight lifting off my shoulders. The change of pace is nice, and the distraction helps, but the ache is still there. Every stroke of the pencil reminds me of what I left behind, what I’m trying to forget, even if just for a little while.

I focus on the details of the person’s face, working meticulously on the eyes, making sure to get every detail right. Millie is keeping me company while Kat makes dinner inside. We’re nestled in the spare room, which is my bed for the next week.

“What’s that?” Millie asks, pointing to the paper.

“It’s a drawing, munchkin,” I explain to her.

“Can I draw?” she asks so innocently, and my heart swells. How I hope to have a daughter like her one day—always so eager to try things, so polite, and just so incredibly cute. I grab her cheek and blow a raspberry on it. She squeals and giggles.

“You sure can. You can draw with Aunty Meli,” I say, ripping a page out of the book and handing her a lead pencil.

That’s how we spend the next twenty-five minutes, nestled on the bed, showing Millie how to draw simple shapes while I work on my own pencil skills. When I finish the rough sketch, I look at it and my lip quivers.

“Bwadey, Bwadey. Where is Bwadey Bear?” Millie asks.

The drawing captures his likeness so vividly. It’s from his chest up. He’s not looking directly at me; his face is off to the side, with a hand behind his head, as he does when he’s thinking.

Seeing his image there on the paper brings a fresh wave of emotion,and I struggle to hold back the tears. This is the man I love, the man I might not be with again because of everything that’s happened. Because of my mistakes.

I hope Liv can eventually get past it. If not being with Bradley will help salvage our friendship, then I’ll do what I need to. I need to sort this out with Liv before I can even think about going back to Bradley.

No. I need tostop, tobreathe. But my mind won’t listen. It keeps replaying every memory, every shared laugh and intimate moment. My heart feels heavy with the weight of it all, the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

But how do I find a way back to the simplicity we once had?

46

Outnumbered - Dermot Kennedy

I’m on my thirdJack and Coke, not giving a single fuck—seated at the bar of The Loose Lasso. It was a long fucking day at work, dealing with the aftermath of the press release this morning. The weight of upholding the hero image the town expects from me is heavy on my shoulders. Dealing with the public, with the townspeople, it’s all just exhausting.

But right now, none of that matters.

“Need a refill?” the bartender says, nodding to my now-empty glass. I nod to her, feeling a buzz warming my body. Just as she starts to make my drink, a young woman sets herself on the bar stool next to me, her thigh brushing against mine.

Her touch does nothing for me.

“Why is a handsome man like you all alone tonight?” Her voice is sweet and her perfume wraps around me—but it’s a sickly sweet scent; I fight the urge not to scrunch up my nose.

It’s not floral, nor is it cherry.

“Just enjoying a drink,” I say, my tone clipped.

“I can see, and all alone, at that.Want some company?”

“No thanks. Not in the mood.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated,” I reply, hoping she’ll finally drop it. I’m not in the mood for company, especially nothers. But she seems undeterred.

“Wanna talk about it?” she says, her hand lingering on my arm.