SUNDAYS WERE MY SELF-IMPOSED “dare-to-be-bare” day. A day just for me. By myself. In my exposed emotional state. No public persona, no mask, no makeup, no steel-capped safety work boots, no judgement from others. It was a day when I could slip back to the Yolande before that terrible day of the scars. The Yolande who had no fear and saw the world as an amazing place to be journeying through life. The Yolande who was compassionate, kind, and full of laughter. The Yolande who had a positive bent on absolutely everything—there was never a problem that couldn’t be solved. There was no person who couldn’t be saved from their own self-destruction ...

When I was in Tarrin, I spent the entire day in my parents’ studio, painting or drawing while listening to loud music and sipping on cups of tea, wearing nothing but the same oversized tank shirt and underwear each time, no bra. My right breast was often exposed to just below my nipple. I had an odd sort of belief that my “healing” art therapy would miraculously rectify my scars, and one day I would look down and find my scar gone. I know it was stupid and delusional, but it was my glimmer of hope.

But today, my cherished Sunday wasn’t mine. It had been stolen from me by my bicycle infatuated grandmother.

My mother held my hand, walked me to the car and drove off. I sat beside her with my eyes closed, wishing I could escape. If I opened the door I could activate my wish and fall out and run. After all, Dr Jones said I could run in court shoes. Bloody pink ones at that!

I hung my head when she pulled up outside Flowers for Fleur. On a Sunday. When it was closed. I fingered both of my pockets for my self-defence tools, then lifted my head, pulled down the sun visor and looked into the mirror on the back of it, scrutinizing my make-up, particularly in one area on my face.

‘You’ve got this, Andi,’ my mother said.

‘I know, Ma. Logically speaking, I have it planned and sorted. Rationally, I know I’ll be okay. But anxiety causes irrational thoughts. I just have to get better at over-riding my errant mind.’ I looked at my mother and pressed my lips together. I know she was pushing me out of my comfort level. And I know that is the only way I could improve.

I opened the door, stepped onto the pavement and brushed down the skirt of my Audrey Hepburn style floral print dress. It was in the vintage chic style, a 1950s flared skirt and sleeveless fitted bodice. The high neck line covered my chest scar. There were pink flowers with green leaves over a white background. I narrowed my eyes at my pale pink court shoes. Steel-capped work boots would have been so much better.

When I looked up, my gaze locked with Xander’s. He was dressed in a white cotton button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled to three quarter length, skinny trousers the colour of jet mid-blue, a brown leather belt and matching brown leather shoes. He was the colour of celestial blue, like the earth from space: peaceful, powerful, sacred. He gave me a slight nod with a crooked smile.

I looked away from him and towards Gram when that curious heat ran through me. She stood in front of her beloved bicycle, beaming me a smile that almost blinded me. She was happy. Good. As I moved closer, her expression changed a little, her face falling in just the slightest way. She wasn’t as good as she was trying to portray.

I reached out and touched her arm. ‘I made it, Gram, without my work boots. Anyone who tries to steal your bike will be battered by the lethal court shoe,’ I whispered.

Gram moved her head a fraction as she gave a small smile. Her eyes widened, and she froze in place. Her usual magenta colour of love was a pale apple-green of distress and worry.

She spoke to me without looking at me, her eyes kept in place without moving. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’ She moved her hand and searched for Gramps but didn’t move her head. The vertigo had returned. 

‘Go with Gramps, Gram. I’ll let you know when I’m back. Xander will take good care of me and your bicycle,’ I said in a calm voice, masking the anxiety inside me.

Gram held the look of terror in her eyes. I wanted to lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek and tell her everything would be okay. But I knew it wouldn’t be, and I knew not to do anything that would make her head move while she was like this. It would make her vertigo worse, much worse. 

I held back a tear that tried to betray me. Why did it always have to be on the right side of my face? I brushed my hand over Gram’s in a gentle, affectionate gesture and my heart rate picked up in urgency. I knew she had to get home quickly, or she would be stuck here outside her shop on a Sunday, unable to move.

I caught the tear on my fingertip then turned to Xander. ‘Shall we?’

‘Yes, but I need to thank your grandmother first,’ Xander said and started to walk towards her.

I put my hand on his arm to stop him and raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Thank her later. She’ll be appreciative.’

Xander looked at me and frowned. ‘Sure,’ he said, and cast an observative gaze over Gram.

My mother stood before us. ‘Enjoy yourself at the garden party, Yolande. And Xander, look after my daughter!’ It was an order, not a choice.

Xander gave a nod. ‘I will, Mrs—’

‘Lawrence-Harrison,’ I whispered.

‘I will, Mrs Lawrence-Harrison. And thank you for lending me your daughter for the afternoon,’ he said. 

I gave my mother a gentle hug before I turned to Xander with a frown. What did he mean by “lending”?

He placed his hands on the handle bars of the bicycle and started to walk. There were two bouquets of flowers in the basket today. One, I expected, was a gift for Xander’s mother from Gram. It consisted of Peruvian lilies, and multi-coloured roses. There were sixty floral blooms. I had counted them in our awkward silence while we walked, and inhaled the scent—a sweet spicy smell resembling meadow honey, with fruity notes, no doubt from the roses, as the lilies had no scent. The other flowers were blue, and absolutely not familiar to me. They looked like they had been stolen from a garden or meadow in passing. 

We journeyed in a northerly direction and I felt every single step in my girly court shoes. Were they meant to feel so constrictive? Did I wobble about in them too much? I looked around for a car or truck to transport the bike. But there was none.

‘Are we walking to the celebration?’ I asked.

‘Yes, Yolande,’ he said, rolling the letters of my name over his tongue. ‘It’s a beau—’

‘Don’t say it—’

‘Say what?’

I shook my head. ‘Just don’t say it.’

‘I was going to say it’s a beautiful day for a garden party ...’

‘Then ... yes, it is.’ I looked up at him, and he gave me a coy smile.  

‘Yolande ... it’s a—’

‘Don’t say it!’

‘Say what?’

‘It’s a pretty name, a beautiful name ...’ I shook my head. I hated it when people said that. It felt so condescending.

‘Then I won’t. The name suits you.’

‘Is that a compliment or an insult? Are you referring to my personality or the way I look?’

Xander took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you always dissect conversations?’

‘You didn’t answer me.’

‘Now you’re putting me on the spot.’

‘And?’

‘And I barely know you.’

‘So?’

Xander stopped walking and looked at me. ‘Can we start again?’

He was right. I wasn’t being fair. ‘Yes, let’s.’

‘Andi, thanks for coming to my mother’s birthday party with me.’ He looked into my eyes. He was being genuine.

I took a deep breath. I shivered, even though I wasn’t cold. Heat rushed to my cheeks. ‘Although I had no choice in the matter, I’ll try to make the best of the situation,’ I said.

Xander lowered his head. ‘I’m sorry you had no say. That wasn’t my intention.’

‘You’re forgiven. Gram is just ensuring her bicycle is returned. I happen to be the tag-along with the bike.’

‘A nice tag-along, I might add,’ he said with a slight smile.

My stomach back flipped. ‘You may not think that by the time we return to the flower shop with the bicycle.’

Xander rubbed the back of his neck.

‘Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.’

‘Physically or emotionally?

‘Both.’ I smiled at him. He was unsure of me. I was in a good position. Or maybe I wasn’t. ‘Will your girlfriend be at the party?’ I needed to change the subject.

‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’

‘Oh?’

‘Girls are too nosy. They ask too many questions,’ he added.

‘You mean they dig deeper instead of scratching the surface?’

He looked down with an amused smile.

‘They make you feel uncomfortable? Are you scared of what they’ll find—like the real Xander?’

Xander stopped walking again and looked at me. He moved his lips to form a word then closed his eyes and pressed his lips into a hard line. ‘It’s not that.’ He started walking again.

‘Can you explain how my mother is “lending” me to you for the party?’ I asked.

‘I’m “borrowing” you to get my father off my back.’

‘I see. He wants you to have a girlfriend, to get married, and then to produce some grandchildren for him.’

‘Yes and no. He already has grandchildren, but I’m the only son, and the only one who can carry on the family name.’

‘Ah ... but why do you need me to appear to be your girlfr—’ I stopped speaking when the realisation hit me tha—

‘Yes. He thinks I’m gay.’

‘Are you?’ Tell me.

‘What do you think?’

I looked at him. If he was heterosexual, he would have denied being gay with conviction. Straight guys hated being accused of being gay. ‘Truthfully?’

‘Please.’

‘Some gays you can pick by sight. Some you can’t. Some, you are shocked to discover their sexual preferences. With you, I really don’t know. Whether that’s the assessment you wanted to hear or not, I’m not sure. Why does your father think you’re gay?’

‘Because I’ve never had a girlfriend.’

‘And I’ve never had a boyfriend. Pleased to meet you, Xander!’ I held out my hand to shake his.

Xander’s hand wrapped around mine and he smiled at me. I think we had met a midway point to start a friendship. I pulled my hand away from his when a tingle shot up my arm. I frowned, shocked by what I had felt. ‘What’s the plan with the bicycle for your mother’s birthday?’

‘My mother has always spoken fondly about her favourite Raleigh Cruiser that she would ride everywhere. Even after her curfew. She would describe its every curve and colour with a passion. And then one day she stopped talking about it. Like she had forgotten her memories. Even when we said little hints about her bike she never started her talking about it again. When I saw this bike outside Flowers for Fleur it represented hope to me. My siblings and I are afraid that our mother has early stage dementia. We discussed in great deal the pros and cons of having this bike here for her birthday. In the end we took a vote and, here we are.’

I looked away from him. His family were taking a big risk. The emotional toll would be high if his mother showed no recognition of the bicycle. Couldn’t they have chosen another day in private to test her out?

‘What did you vote for?’

‘I thought it would be best not to make such a big fuss about it ... with only family to witness her reaction.’

‘I agree with you. Compassion matters.’

‘Yes, it does.’ Xander looked at me like he was trying to make his mind up about me. Whether he decided I was friend material or not, didn’t matter after today.

‘We’re arriving a little later than the other guests. So, consider yourself pre-warned that everybody will think you’re my girlfriend.’

I giggled.

‘What?’

‘This could be fun.’

‘You think?’ His eyebrows knitted together.

‘Absolutely. I liked acting classes at school.’

‘Well, then. You’re hired.’

I looked down and smiled to myself. I hadn’t felt this happy for a while. Xander was easy to be around. There were no expectations. No pressure.

‘We’ll wish my mother a happy birthday first with the bicycle, take photos, then mingle with the guests—if that’s okay with you?’

‘And eat birthday cake?’

‘Tons of birthday cake!’ He looked into the distance and a glorious smile spread over his face.

‘Deal!’

We stopped at a double wrought iron gate at a private garden. Pink and white balloons floated effortlessly from the centre. I could hear laughter and a little light music.

Xander pushed on the gate and we entered. There was a mass of coloured balloons among the greenery in the distance, and the sounds of people engaged in conversation drifted in the gentle breeze.

Xander slowed his pace as we came closer. His walk became stilted, his body tense. He was anxious. He didn’t want this to happen at his mother’s birthday, yet here he was, delivering what could possibly be a blow to the hearts of those who loved her.

Guests looked at the bicycle with gasps of awe, then to Xander, and finally me, where their eyes lingered. I was the supposed long-awaited girlfriend. I wrapped my hand around Xander’s bicep in a show of pretend affection. Xander glanced at me with a gentle smile. A smile that warmed my heart.

A shriek of excitement sounded. I turned my head to see a woman rushing towards us. Her hair was a platinum-coloured, straight shoulder length bob with a fringe. She wore a feminine floral dress that was rendered in dusty pink and peach florals. The skirt was long and floaty with a dramatic drape hem. It was a flattering fit and a delightful style for the garden celebration of her sixtieth birthday.

‘Ma. Happy Birthday!’ Xander said.

‘My Andy!’ She wrapped her arms around her son and hugged him, then stepped back and looked at me. ‘And who is this delightful person? Have you been keeping secrets from your father and I?’

‘This is my girl, Andi.’

Xander’s mother leaned forward with her outstretched hand.

I took it in mine. ‘Happy Birthday. It’s lovely to finally meet you!’

‘Thank you. You have no idea how pleased I am to meet you!’

I smiled at Xander’s mother. Did she also think her son was gay? Gay or not, he was a good man. Someone to be proud of.

Xander picked up the small bouquet of flowers from the basket of the bicycle. ‘Your birthday isn’t complete without flowers from me.’

Xander’s mother caught her breath as she looked at the blue flowers. Quite frankly they looked like weeds to me.

‘Andy, these are just like the first flowers you gave me when you were four years old. I could never forget them!’ she said with a tenderness in her eyes.

Xander smiled at his mother. But the smile was tainted with sadness. I placed my hand on his shoulder.

Xander’s mother pulled off a flower and ate it. I held my breath while Xander reacted in a different way: he doubled over in laughter.

‘I’ll never forget your face when I ate one of the flowers when you gave them to me. I was sure you had stopped breathing for ten minutes. Now hold these while I have a good look at this bicycle!’ She handed the flowers back to Xander.

I placed my hand on the bicycle seat so Xander could hold the flowers. His mother traced her fingers over the handle bars, the frame, the pedals, the wheels. She placed her face against the frame of the bike and closed her eyes, like she was lost in memories.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked up at Xander. This was the moment he had been waiting for—perhaps dreading. He wiped a small tear from his eye.

‘This is exactly like my bicycle, except mine had a white basket on the back rack.’ She stood and placed her hand on the side of Xander’s face. ‘So ... which story do you want to hear?’

Xander smiled. A smile full of love. ‘All of them!’

He was rewarded with an equally impassioned smile from his mother.

‘Let’s get photographs of you and the bicycle, and us kids, Ma.’

‘Absolutely. You get the photographer and I’ll organise your sisters.’

Xander turned to me. I was now holding the blue flowers and the bicycle. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

‘Go for it!’ I said. When he left I reorganised the basket of flowers so that it sat on the back rack, like his mother’s bike. I placed the blue flowers predominantly before the other collection of blooms.

Xander walked over to me with quick steps and cast his gaze over the bike. ‘You are way too nice, Yolande. Come for the photos.’

‘Well ... I am the tag-along with the bike. I don’t have much choice, do I?’

Xander looked down, smiled and shook his head. That curious heat ran through me. He looked up at me. ‘Actually, you do, but I want you to see my mother in her happiest place on earth, then your gram will know exactly why I asked to borrow this bike for the day.’

‘Is her happiness contagious?’ I asked. I needed a large dose of it.

‘Absolutely,’ Xander said.

‘Then ... I guess I’ll tag-along,’ I said.

I stood behind the photographer while the shots were taken. I couldn’t help but grin at Xander, his mother and five sisters.

The final shot had Xander’s mother sitting on the bike holding the wild blue flowers. She oozed poise and sophistication. As she dismounted the bike a round of applause broke out. Xander walked over to her, gave her a hug, and held on to the bike while she returned to her guests.

I walked over to him. ‘You’re right. Happiness is contagious. Thanks. What are those blue flowers?’

Xander frowned at me. ‘You’re the florist ... you tell me.’

‘Actually ... I’m not a florist ... I’m a pretend florist, who, I thought as a child was someone who played the flute!’

Xander looked at me with a half-smile. ‘It’s Chicory. It used to grow wild in the paddock next to where we lived.’ Xander looked around and an official looking man appeared before him. ‘Andi, this is Smithy. He will keep the bicycle safe at the party while we mingle.’

I frowned at Xander and shook my head. ‘No. If anything happens to the bike, it’s on my head. So—no!’

‘Andi—’

I grabbed the handlebars of the bike and started to walk with it. Back to Flowers for Fleur, terrified about the fact that I wasn't wearing my steel-capped work boots.

‘No, Xander. That wasn’t in the deal.’

‘Your gram knows about it. Please.’ Xander placed his hand on my shoulder. ‘Trust me about the bike security, and ... I need you here, with me.’

I looked up into his blue eyes. Those pleading blue eyes that I wished I could fall into.

‘Please.’ His voice was softer, and he placed his hands together in front of his lips.

I closed my eyes and inhaled. ‘Okay. But I feel uneasy about it.’ I faced Smithy. ‘I’ll be checking on you every minute.’

He nodded at me.

I leaned the bicycle against the tree and turned to Xander. ‘You’ve got me for two hours. And that’s it.’

Xander smiled at me and held out his hand. ‘Thanks.’

I placed my hand in his. ‘You might want to hold off on that thanks in case I’m not worthy.’

‘Oh ... I don’t know ... people look at you and smile.’

‘Is my dress on inside out?’

His eyes wandered over my dress and down to my shoes. ‘Not that I can see.’

‘Have I got my shoes on the wrong feet? I’ve done that before you know!’

Xander laughed. ‘How ca—’

‘It depends on the shoes ... you know ... women’s shoes—they’re not designed for comfort.’

‘Have I got something stuck in my hair that shouldn’t be there? Curls tend to grab things and never let go ...’

‘No. Relax. It’s all good. You’re doing—’

An arm wrapped around Xander, but he kept his eyes on me.

‘Josh. How are you?’ Xander asked without looking at him. Odd.

‘Great. Who’s this with you?’

‘This is Yolande ...’

Don’t say it. Please don’t say it ... I mind communicated to Josh.

‘Pretty name.’ He said it! My blood warmed with annoyance at the word “pretty”. ‘Where did you meet Alexander?’

Alexander? His name is Alexander?

‘She’s a florist,’ Xander said. He tilted his head to the side and grinned at me.

‘Temporarily while my grandmother is unwell. I have a career in aeronautical engineering.’

‘As a secretary?’

I blew air between my lips, stopping the anger from brewing inside me. I smiled sweetly at the irritating man. ‘Actually, I’m an aeronautical engineer in the defence force. I’m on a team that oversees the blueprints to ensure that design and calculations are correct before we spend the multi-millions of dollars to build the prototype for testing.’

There was silence as he shuffled his position. I made him uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. ‘What are you working on at the moment?’

‘Four designs. That’s all I can tell you due to my NDA. What do you do—play football?’ I added the football remark to get back at him for his condescending secretary remark.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. ‘Football is an avenue to reduce the stresses of reality for many fans. And no, I’m not a footballer. I work in marketing ...’

‘Congratulations!’ I dipped my head and grinned at him.

Xander’s hand wrapped around my elbow. He leaned in close to my ear, ‘Play nice!’

‘Fine! I’ll dumb myself down for you!’ I whispered.

He led me to a group of young adults, around his age—twenty-seven-ish, perhaps?

‘Alexander. Long time no see. How are you?’

‘Never better, thanks, Adrian. I’d like you to meet Yolande.’

‘Nice to meet you, Yolande.’

‘As you.’

‘As we stand here, I find myself in need of asking you a question.’ I kept my face without emotion while I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping he didn’t recognise me from the trial that took place. ‘If you don’t work. I would like to offer you a job—in my office ...’

I took a deep breath and ran my hand over my forehead. ‘Thanks,’ I smiled at him and scrunched up my face for a second. ‘But I make paper planes for a living.’ I smiled.

‘Like ... origami?’

‘Sure. It’s lots of fun. Hey, nice to meet you.’ I turned to Xander. ‘Alexander,’ I said, over pronouncing his full name. ‘I need the powder room—which direction?’

He lifted his chin and looked down at me. ‘Keep walking straight ahead until you see a door on your left. It’s that way.’

‘Thank you, muchly,’ I said, and walked off, leaving him alone with his friends.

When I returned to the party, Xander was waiting for me, leaning against a tree, his right foot crossed over his left. He stepped forward and put his arm around my shoulder in a show of pretend boyfriend possession. ‘Can you find a middle ground with your answers. You can’t go telling one person you work in the defence force, and another you make paper planes. If a guy asks you a question, please answer with politeness, not aggression.’

‘Alexander, I will cease being hostile to men when women are treated on equal grounds. We are not created for men’s sexual desires, nor as submissives to bow to men’s lifestyle needs!’

Xander sighed, then frowned at me. ‘That’s a bit over the top, isn’t it? Not all men are like that ... what happened to Andi from the flower store?’

‘She’s in the same place as Xander whom I met at the flower store ...’

He lowered his head and grimaced. ‘Touché. The sooner we’re done here the sooner we can escape the façade.’ Xander rolled his eyes.

‘What?’

‘My father is approaching—2 o’clock—call him Mr Parker. Be truthful for when you meet him again for dinner one night, and in case he does a background check on you—’

‘Why would he do that—’ A poisoned arrow of anxiety pierced me, and I touched my chest scar through my dress. I calmed when I remembered he could never find out the details of that terrible day of the scars. The trial had proceeded in a closed courtroom.

‘Father, it’s great to see you again. I’d like you to meet Yolande,’ Xander said.

Xander’s father’s eyebrows shot up before he gave me a wide smile, and something else. Was it relief I saw? He took my hand in his. ‘Yolande, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘Likewise, Mr Parker,’ I said.

‘I trust you are enjoying the party and meeting family and friends,’ he said.

‘Very much so. It’s the perfect location for a celebration.’

‘I hear that thanks must go to you for the bicycle appearance, I believe.’

‘Yes. It’s my grandmother’s most treasured possession.’

‘I think I’ve seen it outside Flowers for Fleur. Is that where you work?’

‘At the moment while Gram is unwell, yes, but normally I’m an aeronautical engineer in the defence force.’

‘Wow. That’s impressive. How long are you going to stay in the force?’

‘For as long as I can. I’m happy there, and it’s challenging, which I enjoy.’

‘That’s wonderful. You kids enjoy the party. I must keep circulating amongst the guests. It’s lovely to meet you, Yolande. See you next time, for dinner.’ Mr Parker leaned forward and kissed my cheek, then pulled Xander into a tight hug and patted his back. I think it was a sign of approval.

Xander held my hand as we walked to the pop-up bar. ‘Do you really work as an aeronautical engineer?’

He hates me now ... ‘You told me to tell the truth.’

‘Yes, I did.’ He hung his head as we walked. His mood had just taken a dive.

‘I’m still Andi from the flower shop, except I know exactly why planes don’t fall out of the sky.’ My voice was flat.

‘I know. It’s just ... I miscalculated you.’

I frowned at him. My heart started to ache. ‘Meaning?’

He looked at me. ‘I ... I—’

My phone vibrated. I pulled it out of my pocket and turned away from him as tears pooled in my eyes. I blinked them away as best as I could.

GRAMPS: Gram is in hospital again.

More tests. She has asked if you can open

the shop tomorrow. xxx

ME: Sure.

I lifted my head to the sky. I really wanted to return to the air force base where my steel-capped work boots were part of the uniform.

He miscalculated me? What does that mean?

I really wanted to run. In my court shoes. Dr Jones said I could run in my court shoes ...

‘Is everything okay?’ He was behind me, closer than I wanted him to be. I could smell his scent—citrus with a hint of liquorice, vanilla, lavender perhaps, and a touch of sandalwood?

I turned to face him. ‘Gram’s back in hospital. She’s having medical tests.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

I shook my head. ‘You know ... she was the only one who believed in me when I said I wanted to design planes when I was little ... she would say, “You can do it, Landi. Girls can do anything!” Ma said I should pursue my career in ballet. But I was too fascinated by planes and helicopters. Gramps would buy me every book and magazine about flight that he saw.’

‘I’m glad you followed your dreams,’ Xander said.

‘What about you, Alexander, you know heaps about me, but I know very little about you.’

He looked down and put his hands in his pockets. ‘Not much to tell really. I work part-time and study—’

‘Alex, we’re about to cut the cake. Come at once!’ a voice called.

Xander nodded and took my hand in his. I trailed along behind him though family and friends. I plastered a smile on my face for Xander’s sake. The perfect girlfriend. With a dark secret.

I stood back and watched his father and siblings gather around his mother for the cake ceremony. Physically, they were a stunning family. Xander was fussed over no matter where he stood. Were they protecting him from something? Were they covering up something? Or was he the adored one? The child who was treasured the most?

Parents aren’t supposed to love one child more than the others. But they do. Surely. I was the inconvenient one. The one who was problematic. A blemish on the family after that terrible day of the scars.

The guests broke out into a boisterous rendition of “Happy Birthday”. It was clear that Mrs Parker was dearly loved. She made a magnificent speech that made me feel like life was indeed bearable. I wondered what it felt like to live a life of privilege as she has had—everyday filled with a blue sky and a sun shining down, carving a golden path to walk upon.

I looked at Xander. His eyes were on me. He raised one eyebrow and gave a small smile. I raised one eyebrow and smiled back, and that curious heat ran through me again.

There was a flurry of movement as guests descended on the tea and coffee cart. A barista had been hired for the event. I joined the queue and ordered two cups of tea.

I walked over to Xander and handed one to him. ‘You look like you need a cup of tea.’

‘Am I that transparent?’

‘No. It’s just the way your siblings fuss over you, you must be a tea drinker, not coffee.’

‘Do I seem flustered?’

‘No—annoyed—like they won’t let you grow up.’

‘And so you see the need to break away from the family. They can be suffocating at times. Did you learn to read people in the defence force?’

‘No. Selling flowers teaches a lot about people types.’ I sipped my tea and stuck my pinky finger out. It was something Mia and I always did to see how people would react. Most of the time they pretended not to see it. But Xander laughed, almost spilling his hot beverage. I walked away and collected a large portion of birthday cake, then stood to the side and watched people. Just me and my cup of tea and a large piece of cake. A girl couldn’t be happier. Well ... this girl, at least, with the mask covering her past and her dark secret. This girl for whom life was a struggle.

I watched as Xander roamed about the guests, chatting. Did he do that by choice, or was it his duty? After a short while he walked over to me. ‘How’s the cake?’

‘Delicious, thanks.’

‘Your two hours is up. Time to go,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘That was the deal—the bicycle and you for two hours, plus to accompany me for dinner one night.’

Used. I felt used. I had an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, my tea tasted bitter. I put down my teacup, closed my eyes and ran my fingers over my eyebrows.

When I looked up, Xander stood with his head down, his hands in his pockets.

‘I’ll just go and say goodbye to your parents and sisters. Not because I’m pretending to be your “girlfriend”, but because it’s the right thing to do.’ I cleared my throat.

Xander took my hand in his while we said our goodbyes. The perfect lie. I was an accomplice. In exactly what, I didn’t know.

The return walk to Flowers for Fleur was quiet. I didn’t have anything to say to him. He should have asked Gram if he could “use” me and the bicycle for his mother’s birthday celebration—because that’s what he did.

‘Thanks for being a great tag-along, Yolande. Your acting audition as a girlfriend was believable.’

‘Good. I hope it helped you in whatever way it was meant to. The truth always has a way of coming out, you know. And it will set you free.’ I took the bicycle from him.

‘I know ... but it has to be when the time is right for me.’ He gazed into my eyes, then frowned.

While I secured the bicycle inside the shop and locked the doors, he left. Without a word.

I looked down at my pink court shoes. I should have worn the steel-capped work boots.