Page 3 of This Is Who I Am

CASS

“Earth to Cass. Earth to Cass.” Suzy glares at me over the rim of her wine glass.

“I’m sorry, Suze.” I drag my gaze away from the beach. I could have sworn I saw the woman with the notebook—Estelle Raymond, I know from our reservation system—trudging along the beach, but upon further inspection, it’s not her.

“It’s okay, Cass,” Hunter chimes in. “Suzy’s talking about the menopause again. I vote we change the subject.”

Suzy rolls her eyes, and I’m with her. If Hunter can’t handle his female friends discussing menopause—this thing that seems to dominate our lives whether we like it or not—he can find somewhere else to be.

“Talking about menopause is my job,” Suzy is unperturbed by Hunter. “I’m a menopause consultant.”

“You just said it.” Hunter isn’t one to give up easily either.

These two keep me fully entertained on my days off.

We’ve grown a lot closer since I became single again three years ago.

“It’s your job. We’re not paying you. We’re just friends hanging out.

” Hunter dramatically puffs out some air—it’s more a gesture I would associate with his husband, Bobby.

“Even Devon’s started complaining about it.

Honestly, I think it’s contagious.” He shakes his head.

“And Sadie with her later-in-life surf club. If low estrogen is the criteria to be accepted, I, too, should qualify.”

“No way, babe,” Suzy says matter-of-factly.

“I don’t need to run your labs to know your estrogen is through the roof.

” She chuckles heartily. “Now, either you let me talk to Cass about this without snark or you respectfully fuck off.” She punctuates her words by stabbing a finger in Hunter’s direction, nearly knocking over the bowl of nuts between us.

Hunter gasps as he brings a hand to his mouth. “Are you sending me away simply because I’m a man? How dare you?”

“Not because you’re a man. Because you’re being obnoxious and ignorant about something that’s important to us.”

“Damn, girl. That’s how I talk to Finn when I tell him off. You just made me feel this small and we both know I’m?—”

Suzy cuts him off simply by holding up her hand.

God, I love these two. They’ve been my lifeline since Sarah left.

Hunter with his wit and Suzy with her invaluable advice on this phase we’re both going through.

A few years ago, she pivoted from a career as life coach to menopause consultant and she sure has her work cut out for her.

“Fine,” Hunter finally surrenders. “I shall take this opportunity to learn from my wise sisters, what with Finn’s baby mama and her lovely wife swiftly heading in this direction as well.”

Suzy turns to me and holds my gaze. “I’d like to suggest Savor as the venue for my menopause support group.”

“You want to use my restaurant?” It doesn’t strike me as the right venue for a gathering like that.

Suzy nods. “Yes, because it’s swanky and cozy and beats any meeting room in Clearwater Bay. I don’t want us to hide away in some dank basement to talk about our issues.”

She might have a point.

“With your relaxed opening hours, I figured we could work something out.”

“Yeah, I’ll think—” My attention is hijacked by a group of five ladies with surfboards tucked under their arms strolling onto the beach. One of them has the most audacious mane of curls floating behind her as she walks. It’s unmistakably the Friday-woman-with-the-notebook from the restaurant.

“Ah, there’s my little sister.” Suzy waves at the group on the beach.

“Sadie Ireland’s dried-up pussy surf club, you mean,” Hunter adds.

“What’s with you today?” Suzy’s eyes shoot daggers at Hunter. “I know the menopause is not your favorite subject, but you’re being a lot more bitchy than usual.”

Their voices fade as my attention drifts to the women on the beach. Estelle cuts a striking figure in her wetsuit. She moves with the grace of someone who hasn’t yet realized they’re being watched, that brief window of unselfconscious beauty before the world intrudes.

I shake off the thought as I’m reminded what my own body looks like. I only walk on the beach fully clothed these days. It’s also one of the reasons I would never join Sadie’s surf club.

Certainly not everyone in that little group on the beach has the same gorgeous physique as Estelle—although Sadie, obviously, does. All the Irelands, Suzy included, have been genetically blessed with a body that can withstand anything, most of all age. You should see Jack, their father.

“You could join, you know,” Suzy says. “You’re the perfect candidate.”

“So could you.” I suddenly sound extremely flippant. I tear my gaze away from the group and Friday Woman to send Suzy an apologetic smirk. In a family of surf-mad people, she’s always been the odd one out.

She doesn’t dignify what I just said with a response, and rightly so.

“Is that Estelle Raymond?” she says, instead. She squints into the setting sun. She shakes her head, looking unsure of who she has just seen.

“It is,” I confirm. “She’s been to the restaurant three times in the past three weeks.”

“God, I haven’t seen her in decades,” Suzy says. “Her father died a few months ago. She must have come back.”

“You know her?”

Suzy nods. “Used to, at least. We went to school together. She’s my age.”

We’ve been planning Suzy’s big Five-Oh for months.

Goodness, Friday Woman is close to fifty?

She looks at least ten years younger. But that means she must also be going through what we’ve been discussing to Hunter’s growing annoyance—menopause.

Maybe she’s keen to join other clubs as well as Sadie’s later-in-life surf club.

Maybe she’d like to join Sadie’s sister’s menopause support group. But what do I even care?

I focus my gaze back on Suzy although, admittedly, it’s kind of hard to drag it away from the beach—and from Estelle.

The other ladies don’t seem to draw my eye that much.

It’s just that, once it was confirmed that Estelle Raymond wasn’t a weirdly often-returning restaurant critic, it became really hard to ignore how utterly gorgeous she is.

Because she is. Those dark, lush curls, that sharp jawline, that intense gaze… and those lips.

What the hell? I haven’t felt this pull toward another woman—this raw, physical attraction—in years.

As the estrogen levels in my bloodstream started their harrowing ups-and-downs, my libido has been near non-existent.

Dead, really. Gone. Not that I care, not anymore.

Although, and I don’t blame her for this for one single second, it’s one of two big reasons Sarah left me. At least it was just one out of two.

“Let’s do it,” I say, as I try to regroup. “Let’s have the support group meeting at Savor.”

“I suppose I’m banned.” Hunter grins at us. “Bottoms up, ladies. Next round’s on me.”

“I think he and Bobby are going through something,” Suzy whispers as soon as Hunter has disappeared inside The Bay. “We need to give him some time and grace.”

“Hunter doesn’t bother me,” I say. “Hot flashes do.”

“Have you had more?”

“Several times a day now,” I admit.

“Oh, Cass. Why won’t you see Doctor Gupta?”

“You know why.” It’s much easier to look at the beach and let my gaze wander to Estelle than to talk about this. Besides, Suzy and I have had this conversation a million times. I can’t believe she still expects it to have a different outcome than all the times before.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” Suzy says. “Why can’t you trust me on this?”

I have to be careful when I talk about mothers with Suzy. Despite a lifetime of therapy—she has even become a counselor herself—her mother leaving when Suzy was a young girl is something she’ll never fully get over. I respect that, but some things need to be said.

“I took care of my mom until her final breath. And I promised her.”

I can tell Suzy wants to say something, possibly an iteration of all the things she has said to me before, but she bites her lip and swallows her reply.

But I’m not as stubborn as Suzy thinks I am.

Every time I have a hot flash, especially when it happens in the middle of service, I want to talk to Doctor Gupta and beg her to prescribe me hormone therapy.

But then the flash recedes and I invariably think of my mother and what she was convinced of when she died—the cause of her breast cancer she was so certain of, even though, in the end, it was more an obsession than anything else.

Hunter comes out with the drinks.

“Ooh.” He puts the wine glasses down. “Did I just walk into a menopausal spat?”

Suzy mock-slaps him around the ears while she shoots him a tension-diffusing grin.

As I take a sip of wine, I look at the small group of women huddled around Sadie. She’s taking them into the water. My gaze is, again, captured by Estelle as she tiptoes along the water’s edge. Her curls dance in the wind like they have a mind of their own.

If she grew up here with the likes of the Ireland family, she might not be a later-in-life surfer, but have some tricks up that tight wetsuit’s sleeve. Now I can’t look away if I wanted to. I have to see for myself.