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MILLIE

Marianne and Connell

Today has been amazing, and it’s only one o’clock.

Over seventy people came through for a haircut and something to eat first thing this morning, including a few of our regulars, which always makes me feel better.

Knowing how they’re doing helps me not catastrophise about what might happen to them in between visits.

The event was a huge success in my book and even though I’m shattered, I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

I’m about to make another cup of coffee to fight off my tired eyes when Ellis sidles up to me. “We are on fire today.”

“Agreed. I’m going to sleep like a baby when this day is done.”

“You can sleep after we show you and your beautiful pictures off,” Ellis reminds me. “You can nap in between if you want?”

“I might be exhausted, but there’s no way I’ll sleep.” The thought of sleeping while nervous energy pumps through my veins seems impossible.

Ellis stretches her arms over her head and yawns. “When will your fake-not-fake boyfriend be returning?”

“Shhh!” I glance around. “Indoor voice, Ellis.”

“No one’s going to know what that means if they overhear me,” she dismisses. “I was thinking, does it really matter if people find out? You’re into each other now anyway.”

“Now is not the time to be discussing this,” I grumble.

Ellis frowns. “Pray tell, when is the time to discuss this? Because in case you haven’t noticed the date . . . tick tock.”

I pump ground coffee into the portafilter and smash the top so it’s level, before slamming it up into the machine. I grab a mug and place it underneath before clicking the right buttons, the machine whirring to life.

Of course I’ve noticed the date. This entire month, all I’ve looked at is dates and times and the unstoppable countdown to when the contract ceases.

In a few days’ time, Noah will set off to Hawaii to ensure he gets prepped for the first competition of the new surf season.

It’s almost the twenty-second of January.

Ellis hands me the milk from the fridge. “Your silent aggression is very reassuring to me.”

I pour the milk into the metallic jug and froth it. “We’re talking tonight. After my show.”

“What are you going to say?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure yet.”

That’s the truth. I haven’t figured out what to say to Noah. I’ve rehearsed a thousand speeches, but I know myself. Based on my experience in high-angst situations of the past, I’m likely to either word vomit or go silent.

“Whatever you do, don’t do what we hate in romance stories,” Ellis warns. “Remember your biggest pet peeve of Normal People? ”

I tap the side of the mug, testing the temperature. “I loved that show.”

“As did I, but what was one of the key themes?” she presses.

Remaining silent, I watch the milk swirl to a fluffy broth, inhaling as coffee pours into my mug.

“Miscommunication,” she spits. “If Marianne and Connell had talked about things properly, they’d have avoided a tonne of heartache.”

“Then there’d be no story,” I reply.

Ellis snatches the carton of milk to return it to the fridge. “Millie Schofield, do not become a Marianne. I forbid it.”

I snap off the hot water and bang the jug on the bench loudly, before pouring it into my mug in a careful pattern.

The theme of communication has been present in my life for the past few months.

Advice from Mack, working on it with Noah, and now Ellis, demanding it from me.

Logically, communication is the answer. I know that.

But I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what communicating my feelings could lead to.

“We’ve both admitted we can’t keep pretending,” I tell her. “But I don’t know what that means for either of us going forward.”

Ellis rubs my arm and narrows her eyes. It’s her way of comforting me but also being stern. “Be honest with how you feel. Promise me you’ll do that.”

I nod. “I promise.”

Ellis nods. “Good. Now get some more caffeine in you. We have to clean this place up for event number two.”

I sip my coffee as she walks away, and I can’t tell if my nerves in my belly are for my impending photography exhibit or the man I can’t stop thinking about.