Forgotten Sweethearts - Bestseller

Chapter Three

"Dave has met someone else."

She decided this was the best way to inform me. Mid-sip into my double shot cappuccino I held in both hands, I frowned towards Cathy while ignoring the hot burn down my throat. I felt for her, having her marriage end in such a terrible way.

"I'm sorry." I wasn't sure what else I could say. She was clearly having a hard time coping since their marriage had fallen apart.

"It's okay." She managed a weak smile, her dirty blonde hair tucked over one shoulder as she lifted the silver spoon up. "Want some?"

It looked delicious. The food here was always delicious and the coffee, even better. "Yes." I grinned.

"I'll swap you. This is for your almond croissant." She peered over, eying the pastry on my plate.

Laughing, "I change my mind. I'm not giving this up for anything." I really shouldn't be gorging on these. The rolls of my stomach would triple if I didn't stop eating all the crap that I had been consuming of late. "Eat yours and tell me how good it tastes."

We were sitting outside Sweetbrew on George Street, a Patisserie and Espresso Bar that never disappoints. We came here every Wednesday to have our weekly catch up coffee and whatever looked tempting and tasty. The weather was too nice to be sitting indoors now that spring had arrived.

The Launceston Mall was close by, a few short minutes' walk to pick up some new school shoes for Noah as his others had worn in the toes. These would be his third pair this year. Cars driving by were rushing. Everyone was always so busy. I thought about taking coffee to Brody and visiting him at work, but after he had taken off so fast this morning, I didn't want to bother.

I had gotten my hair trimmed before meeting Cathy. A good two inches were taken off, thinned out with more choppy layers. I hated the mirrors in the dressers. I don't think anyone truly sees how ugly they are until you're sitting in front of one of those. I couldn't help but just stare at myself in the mirror, trying not to cry as I watched my hair fall down like the way my marriage was.

The smiles, laughter, they were all fake mess, and Brody wasn't happy. I knew he was just as unhappy as I was.

Neither of us had been happy for so long. Was it worth just giving up for? I loved him, but it wasn't the same love we once had. We said it out of habit. "Love you." "Love you too." There was no emotion, no connection to those words. I wanted to smile when I heard it. Instead, I felt nothing. He didn't do a damn thing to make me feel that I was loved.

There was never an "I love you," those three small words that I badly craved to hear.

I was no better. I hadn't said that to him, either.

Watching as Cathy hungrily enjoyed the fruit flan, I couldn't wonder if she was as happy as she appeared. Was she feeling the same as I did? She was a beautiful woman. Her hair had grown out from the curls, and she now kept them straight. Her brown eyes were unhidden from the black glasses she used to wear. I envied her, able to eat and never seeming to gain anything. We remained the best of friends since high school. She had gotten married, then unfortunately divorced, confiding in me that she found out David was having an affair. She packed their three children up and left him, only seeing him twice a week and every other weekend when they did the usual kid swap. I felt bad for both of them, especially their daughters who wanted their parents living in the same house. It became awkward at first when they separated as Brody had been great friends with David. Cathy refused to come visit us until all contact with him had seized. Unbeknown to her, Brody was still played poker with him on Fridays.

Although we were like sisters, I didn't tell her about my marital problems. She had grown up to be quite gossipy and loved to hear juicy stories of the mothers at school when we'd wait for classes to end or morning drop off. Someone's downfall was her knowledge gain, and I couldn't dare spill my deepest, darkest secrets to her. I trusted her, but even I didn't want to be spoken about. Behind our closed doors, our problems stayed unspoken.