Baking bread had been Mara’s lifeline when she moved to Melbourne. She knotted rolls and braided loaves until her half-unpacked townhouse was groaning with bread. She loved the acid-sweet smell of yeast, the squish of dough between her fingers. Baking bread required delicacy and dedication. It kept her mind away from the mess that was her life. And now it kept her mind away from the knowledge of how easy it would be to make an Instagram account and contact Derek.
The days after she’d seen him at HFA had taken on a hazy quality. Hours vanished without her quite knowing where they went. Dreams and daydreams merged until she was never sure if she was awake, only that her fingers hurt from touching herself and kneading so much bread.
At least she didn’t have the old problem of where to take the bread. She was performing daily visits to the office to drop off baguettes and sourdough loaves. Chase found it deeply annoying, but as she reminded him—it was her business, and she could overfeed their staff fresh bread if she wanted to. On Friday morning she went into HFA early with Pan and two dozen flour rolls. She found Chase already at his desk and gave him a roll slathered in butter and homemade strawberry jam.
“You’re giving me diabetes,” Chase complained.
“I am not. Come on, let’s go for a coffee.”
Chase studied her closely. “You’re not sleeping.”
“Not as much as I’d like, but that’s all the more bread for you and the team.”
“I don’t need bread. The team doesn’t need more bread.” Chase pulled a piece from his roll and studied it. “Would this insane bread-lust have anything to do with Derek Hardiman?”
“It’s not… not about Derek.”
Chase put down the roll. “I know you don’t date, but you should go out with Andy’s friend, Matt. He’s funny and hot and it might help…” He waved a hand over her midsection, “Distract you.”
Mara looked skyward. “Thanks, but I don’t need to see anyone. I’ll be fine. I’ve upped my self-care to an insane degree.”
“By staying up all night making bread?”
And masturbating. But Chase didn’t need to know that.
“I’m fine. Seriously,” she insisted. “Let’s go for coffee. You can tell me all about how the business is going to be tanked by the Minister for Housing.”
“Don’t joke about that!”
The two of them left Pan chewing on Chase’s old hoodie and headed to Millions Café. The morning was crisp with a biting wind and Mara pulled her kingfisher blue Michael Kors blazer tight around her chest. Chase eyed her. “You look nice.”
“Just trying to seem like I have my life together.”
“If I tell you it’s working, will you stop with the bread?”
“We’ll see.”
Chase linked his arm through hers and they walked to the intersection. As they waited at the traffic lights, the hairs on the back of Mara’s neck stood up. Time slowed. Trees paused in mid-sway. Wind streaked around her like watercolours. She turned, her heart pounding like a war drum. No. Yes. It couldn’t be. But it was him. Racing up behind her, one tattooed hand outstretched. She tried to yelp but all the air rushed from her lungs. All she could manage was a tiny moan. Derek moved toward her, getting bigger by the second. “Mara? Mara! It’s me!”
His eyes were wild, his face—his face looked different. His moustache was gone. Clean-shaven, he was more like the boy from school than ever, jogging toward her in a black hoodie as though this was Albury in 2011.
Mara lowered hands she hadn’t known she’d brought to her chest. “Hi.”
She said it so quietly he couldn’t have heard her, but his face lit up. Naked happiness so bright it was terrifying. She wanted to burrow into the ground like a scared rabbit.
Chase turned. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Derek didn’t even glance at him. His unworldly black eyes were locked on hers. Mara’s cunt contracted. He was going to pick her up. He was going to carry her away like a marauding conqueror. Then he didn’t. He pulled up, his body jolting. “Mara. I can’t believe it’s you.”
She stared up at him. Even in her fuchsia Attico pumps, she barely came to his shoulders. He’d grown since he was a teenager. Up close, his face was different too. There were lines around his eyes that weren’t visible in photos or on TV. Neither was the black stubble under his skin. The word rose unbidden—Daddy—and euphoria spread through Mara’s chest like honey.
“Hello? Asshole? Can you hear me?” Chase demanded.
Derek ignored him. His gaze dragged over her face, studying her as she studied him. She touched a hand to her lips. Had he noticed her injections? Her eyelashes? Her nose? The fact her ears no longer stuck out through her hair?
Then he shook his head. “You’re fucking stunning. You look so… I don’t know how to say it.”
Expensive. She looked expensive. Money had flowed into her life, glossing her rough parts, and buffing the bright places to a near-impossible shine. She looked like a rich girl. Mara stared at her toes. For years she’d dreamed of Derek seeing her this way and saying these things, but now that he was here, she just wanted to hide.
“Mara… where have you been, baby?”
It was such a huge question, tied off with such a ridiculous pet name, Mara didn’t know how to answer. “Around. I guess.”
Derek’s face sagged. “But—”
Chase moved between them. “Maybe I should have made this clearer at our meeting, stay the fuck away from us. Now leave or I’ll call the police.”
“One minute, mate.” Derek sidestepped Chase. “When did you grow out your hair?”
Mara almost laughed. “When I was twenty. Derek, what are you doing here? Is this about the house you wanted?”
“The house? The fucking house?”
He took a step toward her, and Chase moved across, blocking him again. “Talk with your words, Hardiman.”
Derek scowled but took a step backward. “I’ve been looking for you for years. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
Mara felt a small streak of pride. She’d paid handsomely to keep her name out of Google search terms. It was nice to know it had worked. “I… got off social media.”
“Right.” Derek shoved his hands into his pockets. “Fuck. Well, I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry we lost touch and…”
His words washed over Mara like dirty waves. So sorry. Lost touch. Baby. They meant nothing. They were just sounds crammed together. A woman in a gray coat ducked past them and she realised they were blocking the path. She turned her face away.
Chase glanced from her to Derek. “Okay, this has been sufficiently weird, but we need to get to work. Goodbye, Mr Hardiman. Don’t come here again.”
Chase slid his arm through hers and steered her around Derek and back toward HFA.
“Mara!”
Derek’s voice stirred waters deep inside her. Places she’d allowed to crumble in the darkness of her twenties. She turned and found him staring desperately after her.
“He’s gonna follow us,” Chase muttered. “Keep walking. We’ll go upstairs—”
“Mara!” Derek’s voice was clear, a king calling across his hall. “Mara, we’re not done.”
She stopped as though he’d commanded it.
“Don’t let him intimidate you,” Chase hissed. “Get inside and—”
“I need to…” She turned and moved toward Derek. He took that as permission to come closer, his legs eating up the ground between them.
“You. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”
She flushed, aware of Chase sputtering at her back. “Derek, I don’t know what to do.”
“So let me decide.”
Anger sizzled through her like hot oil. “Things aren’t the way they used to be.”
“Okay. I get that. You want me on my knees?”
“What?” she and Chase said together.
To her astonishment, Derek dropped like a stone onto the dirty footpath, cutting his height in half.
“For the love of Christ,” Chase groaned but Mara could only stare. Derek had always been unapologetic in his affection toward her, but this was insane. He was a famous footballer and anyone on the street could see him. How could he possibly be this desperate to speak to her? “Derek…”
“Give me your number.” He raised his tattooed hands as though in prayer. “Let me give you mine. I need to see you again.”
But you’re seeing me right now…
Chase touched her shoulder. “I’ll give you some privacy. But I’m right here.”
“Okay,” Mara whispered.
Derek watched Chase go, his gaze flicking back to hers as soon as he gauged Chase was far enough away.
“Baby,” his voice was gravel. “Baby, I want to kiss you. I am barely holding back right now.”
Mara knew that. She felt his energy vibrating out at her like orange heat. He wanted to snatch her up, crush her, take her down. Her body responded like warm paper desperate to curl into flame.
He smirked, so handsome it almost stopped her heart. “It’s been too long, Little Miss.”
She stepped back. Little Miss. She called Pan that. But he had called her that. Not all the time. In bed. Pan. Pan was chewing away at Chase’s jumper upstairs. She needed to go to her. She needed to be with Pan. She took another step back. “I don’t know why you came, but I have to go.”
Derek stayed on his knees. “Give me your number. Or take mine. We’re not done, baby.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s what you are, Mara. You’re my baby. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”
Of course, she remembered. She didn’t want to remember.
Derek held up a hand. “Please just give me a way to talk to you again?”
An idea occurred to her. She turned to Chase who was pretending to be on his phone a few metres away. “Chase, can I give Derek your number?”
Chase glared at Derek, then nodded. “If it’s what you need.”
“Is that okay?” she asked Derek.
His black eyes gleamed. “You need a chaperone?”
“What if I do?”
“Then you get whatever you want, Little—”
“Don’t.”
She knew he was referencing the hours he’d spent as her Daddy, and she didn’t want him to go there. They were her memories too and she didn’t want to transfer them onto this bigger, older Derek Hardiman. She met his gaze squarely. “Do you want the number?”
“Of course.”
She recited Chase’s number as Derek typed it into his phone. He stood, swallowing her in his shadow. Mara took a step back. “Okay. Goodbye, Derek.”
“I’ll be seeing you, baby.”
She imagined him climbing into her bedroom, a mask over his brutish face, and her knees wobbled as she returned to Chase. She felt him watching her as they re-linked arms and headed back to HFA.
“That was beyond weird,” Chase muttered as they strode through the door. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. Totally fine.”
But she couldn’t have been, because the ground was rushing up to meet her.