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My eyes widen. “You cheated on Dad?”

“I’m afraid so. If I’m one hundred percent honest, I’ve cheated on all the partners I ever had until Trish. Turns out I finally found what I was searching for.”

Oh my god. Could they be any more perfect for each other? I want to cry, but they’re smiling so fiercely at each other and I’m happy for them too.

“Wait, are you saying I should give him a chance?”

“Do you want to?”

I think about the things Noah said. How he apologized and promised to be better. To be anything I needed. Wasn’t it Mia who said the right thing was whatever I needed?

I think if he wanted to, Noah could be that for me. The question is, does he want it enough?“I do.”

“Then give it to him,” Mom says. “But be careful. Take it slow. Give yourself time to see if he’s really what you’ve been looking for.”

“I don’t know, Mom. I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.”

THIRTY

Noah

I spritz myself with water to counteract the heat of the late spring air. It’s not arid like an Aussie outback summer, but it’s warming up and I still haven’t found Olivia.

Every day I think I see her on the street or in a shop. I’ll catch a glimpse of red hair or the sound of laughter and turn my head only to find it’s not her.

Turns out a kraken isn’t much of a tracker and my internet stalking only got me so far. I should be happy. I’d hate to thinkany loser online who’s watched too many of her videos could find out where she lives. Only if that loser is me, well that’s different.

In the video on my phone, she smiles and lifts a huge forkful of pasta to her mouth. She’s so adorable. She looks happy.

Maybe that’s my sign. Maybe I’m once again being selfish, pursuing someone who is happier without me. I don’t hit like. I don’t want her to see I’ve been watching. Somehow that feels wrong. I think if I messaged her she probably wouldn’t answer.

I won’t say I haven’t been tempted. The sappy draft messages sitting on my account are evidence of that. But I think the right way has got to be face to face.

Pocketing my phone in the small shorts I bought to accommodate my tentacles, I head back inside, break over. I’ve been at work since seven this morning which was brutal on a Sunday, but Sunday is our busiest day and the pay is barely enough to keep me in food and accommodation. I need the hours.

I could go back home, of course, but I promised myself I wouldn’t do that. Not without Olivia.

The longer it takes, though, the more I start to wonder if I’ve made yet another mistake.

While I’ve been on break, the dirty dishes have stacked up in the kitchen. I put my head down and get stuck into them, hastily scrubbing a large pot while I stack plates and cups into the commercial dishwasher tray with my tentacles.

There’s a particularly stubborn stain on the rim of the pot. Reaching into the sink with the tip of a tentacle, I use my suckers to keep it in place so I can get a better look at it, then I pause. There’s something strange about the color of my tentacle. It seems brighter. More luminescent. As I watch, a soft light within the tip begins to glow.

I drop the pot with a splash that splatters dirty dishwater all over the floor.

If I’m glowing, then she must be close.

I run from the kitchen on four tentacles, looking frantically around the café. There! Sitting at a table in the window are three women. Two older ladies in yoga gear and my beautiful Olivia. Her long red curls seem to glow like my tentacles in the mid-morning sun. She’s facing away, talking to the other women, so she hasn’t seen me race out here like I’m on fire.

Taking a calming breath, I wrest some control over myself. I should act like this is a causal encounter, shouldn’t I? That’s been my plan.

Act like I just happened to run into her and wondered if she would like to catch up over a coffee.

Only now she’s here, I don’t think I can do that. The intensity of my need for her feels like an ache in every limb. I can’t wait a moment longer.

Ignoring Mandy, who is making coffees, and the line of customers at the counter and the servers who give me weird looks, I make straight for that table and stop, palms sweaty and mouth dry.

One of the older women with dark straight hair and a strong chin looks up at me and then at Olivia. “Hey, Liv, I think you’ve been spotted.” She jerks her head at me while I stand behind her trying to compose my thoughts into something witty or charming to say.