Page 26 of This Is Who I Am

CASS

Every single one of my friends fawns over Estelle as though she is the greatest temporary inhabitant Clearwater Bay has ever seen. I totally get it. Every nice thing they say to her—or to me about her—couldn’t be more true.

“She’s gorgeous,” Bobby says.

“She’s incredibly smart,” Suzy says, after only fifteen minutes of conversation with Estelle, but you can’t argue with Suzy’s intuition for things like cleverness in people.

“Very promising on a surfboard,” Devon exclaims, staying the most levelheaded as usual.

“I can’t believe it,” Hunter says as he drags me into the kitchen.

“What’s the catch here, Cass? Because as far as I can see, that woman that my gay husband may very well want to leave me for, is fucking perfect.

” He’s being very Bobby about this. “There has to be something and I want to know what.”

“There’s nothing,” I say, although, obviously, nobody’s perfect. Neither is Estelle but after the orgasm she drew from my body last night, she might as well be the queen of Clearwater Bay. “I’m so smitten. I didn’t see it coming. Not even a little bit.”

“I can tell. You’ve barely touched my muffins,” Hunter says matter-of-factly. “Very unlike you.”

Suzy joins us in the kitchen. I’d love to talk to her in private, tell her what happened last night—how my body reacted in such an improbable way to Estelle—but I’ll have to wait until Hunter leaves.

“If you won’t tell me,” Hunter says, “I’ll find out for myself.” He pecks me quickly on the cheek. “I’m really happy for you, Cassie.”

“What does he want to find out?” Suzy asks.

Before I reply, I drag her into the empty living room, farther away from the backyard where everyone has gathered around the feast Hunter and Bobby have prepared to welcome Estelle.

“He’s convinced she can’t be as perfect as she looks,” I whisper.

“That’s a little cynical.” Suzy rubs her chin. “And Hunter is usually the least cynical of the two.” She tilts her head. “He might be subconsciously worried she’ll end up hurting you.”

“Suze,” I interrupt her assessment of Hunter. “I had the most mind-blowing orgasm last night.”

Eyebrows bunched together, she stares at me. “You did?”

“Seriously, my body’s still in recovery, although it’s also in a state of complete euphoria. It’s like she… unlocked me or something.”

“Wow.” I’ve rarely seen Suzy stumped for words—it might actually be the first time.

“You’re the expert on middle-aged women’s hormones… what the fuck is going on with me?”

“It’s really not that hard.” She grins at me—that notoriously charming Ireland grin that both her famous sister and former-playboy brother possess. “You’re in love.”

“Yeah.” I nod slowly, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to me yet, while it’s clear as day that I’m totally infatuated with Estelle.

“Oh, god, Suze… she’s so lovely, I can’t even begin to tell you.

So understanding and eloquent and kind. I was such a mess when she arrived last night.

Any other woman would have run a mile, but she stayed and…

I wanted her so much.” My voice breaks a little, but Suzy is nothing if not understanding too.

“And then…” I run out of words because my emotions are too strong for words.

“It’s like she cracked me wide open somehow. Just like that.”

“Oh, Cassie.” Suzy rubs her palm along my arm. “You really are in love.”

“I’m an emotional wreck and I love it,” I exclaim.

“Enjoy it, babe,” Suzy says.

“There you are.” Bobby saunters into the living room. “What are you two whispering about?” He studies my face. “Are you all right, Mama Cass? Because you’ve won the big prize, no doubt about it. Estelle is simply magnificent.”

“I’m fine. It’s just a bit much for a woman in menopause.” Bobby’s not like Hunter and the M-word doesn’t shut him up so easily—nothing does.

“Oh, come here.” He opens his arms to me. “Come and get your Bobby hug so you know that everything will be okay.” Bobby is loud and brash but he’s also the sweetest friend you can wish for. I step into his strong embrace. “You deserve her, and she deserves you,” he whispers in my ear.

* * *

When I walk back out, I’m so drawn to Estelle, I head straight toward her and, a little possessively perhaps, put my hands on her shoulders.

She looks up at me. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” It’s hard to tear my gaze away from hers. I’m in two minds to get over myself and ask Bobby for that lube regardless of his reaction and whisk Estelle back to my place, but I’m also afraid my body might not be able to react like it did last night again. “You? With this rowdy lot?”

“Us? Rowdy?” Hunter pretends to be offended. “You were there when Sadie’s surfer ladies joined us at The Bay the other week. That was rowdy. Compared to that, this is very demure.”

“So rowdy that Hunter had to take his leave.” Sadie slaps him on the shoulder. “Because he can’t hold his own among a group of mature ladies.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow, and I’ll stay for post-surf drinks,” Hunter says.

“Good boy,” Sadie says condescendingly—but Hunter deserves it sometimes. “Are you joining us again, Estelle?”

“Definitely.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “We have to give Hunter a show.”

I squeeze back, then return to my chair next to Estelle’s, hoping with all my heart that Sadie’s not going to use Estelle to try and get me on a surfboard as well.

But Devon says something about Finn and the subject changes and I look around this group of my close friends amongst whom I’ve sat as a single person for so long, it’s hard to believe I’m here with Estelle now—gorgeous and inevitable Estelle.

Everything about this weekend is hard to fathom, apart from my night sweats on Friday—those were completely in character.

My meltdown in front of Estelle was embarrassing and uncalled for but, somehow, from inside my skin, completely unpreventable.

What followed is the most shocking plot twist of my life.

I’d ironed a pair of pajamas, for heaven’s sake.

Although, as I was laying them out, that was when my head started spinning out of control.

I used to be so good at just going with the flow, rolling with the punches and just seeing what happens.

But my hormones no longer allow for carefree dating—or carefree anything.

I got so worked up about the shape of my body, as though I could somehow think it into a different, slimmer shape—into something more appealing for Estelle, a woman who doesn’t experience sexual attraction.

The whole thing was just such a mind fuck, I can be kind to myself about losing it as soon as she arrived—kind like Estelle.

Because, in the end, it was nothing but her enormous kindness, her lovely, slow way with me that got me to surrender.

How she got me to show myself to her as though it was a given—how she got me to do the opposite of what I thought I wanted.

If I’d clung to my fear, if she hadn’t gently coaxed me out of my clothes, amping up the sensual tension with every inch of my skin she revealed, I’d still be convinced that orgasms were no longer in the cards for me.

I’d be utterly, completely, totally certain—and I wouldn’t even care.

I just wanted a chaste sleepover—and to sneak a peek or two, perhaps.

Instead, I got the climax of my life. The memory of her tongue—how insistent it was, as though no orgasm was simply not an option—on me makes me blush.

As always, when my skin flushes instantly, I fear the worst, but it’s not a hot flash.

Maybe—who knows?—that obliterating climax rearranged my hormones in a way that keeps me free of hot flashes for a while.

Yeah right. I can’t be that lucky to have found Estelle and be spared one of the most embarrassing and annoying symptoms of the menopause all at once.

“Cassie’s got it bad,” I hear Bobby say.

“Sorry. What?”

“You were miles away but we don’t blame you.”

“Brain fog,” I say, although my brain has never been clearer.

Estelle slides her hand along the back of my neck and, instinctively, I lean into it.

“Sure,” Bobby says.

Despite this life-phase I’m going through, with all its discomforts, I haven’t been this ludicrously happy since long before menopause. Estelle’s hand on my neck. My friends teasing me about being smitten. And the memory of that insane climax strong in my body and my mind.