“That’s the last of it. The car is officially empty,” Missy states as she places the last bag on the bed.

She is my best friend, and without her I would never have escaped Randall. For years, Missy begged me to leave him. All I knew was life as a wife. His wife. Failure wasn’t an option, and I kept hoping he would change back to the man I fell in love with. Now I realise I had only fallen in love with the idea of him. Randall was and always will be a monster.

“Hey, let's go into town and explore?” suggests Missy.

“I don’t know...”

“Come on, Callie. You need to see the town to find out where to shop for groceries, and honey, although I have bubbles for you in the fridge, there’s not much else. And we can have dinner at one of the pubs. It’ll be fun!”

Missy bounces out of the room, faking excitement. She knows I’m scared and that I just want to stay in and pretend I’m okay. I glance around the room one more time, square my shoulders and join her in the kitchen.

“So, we going?”

“Yes, love, but I need some liquid courage so I’m finishing my glass of bubbles,” I tell her and plaster on a bright smile.

“That’s my girl! We need to put some meat on those bones. I’m buying you whatever you want. Don’t worry. You can pay me back when you can.”

Tears well up in my eyes as I nod and drink the rest of the bubbles in one gulp; it nearly chokes me.

Missy engulfs me in a hug and whispers, “It’s going to be okay.”

My tears spill over and we stay in our embrace for a few minutes. Missy sighs and lets me go. She rubs my arm, grabs her bag and announces, “Let's get this show on the road, hey.”

With trepidation, I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the car.

The trip into town takes about fifteen minutes. Missy drives straight to the local Coles Supermarket following the directions instructed by our Navman and grabs the biggest shopping trolley.

“Remember, I want you to let your hair down and have a drink at dinner. We are going to take our time, have a leisurely meal and unwind from our trip so no cold stuff, okay? We’ll pick all that up tomorrow.” I do my best to look happy at the mention of dinner, but I can already hear my bed calling. I’m exhausted and happy to curl up in a ball and sleep away my first night in my new home. But I know Missy loves going out for dinner and having drinks, she’s always been one for crowds and social outings. She swings a trolley in my direction and says, “Shop your heart out, honey. Let’s fill that pantry.”

It is weird putting things into the trolley that in the past would have gotten me a slap or a punch for being extravagant. When we finally get to the checkout, we both have trolleys that are full and almost overflowing.

As Missy is unloading hers, I move in close to her and whisper, “It’s too much.”

“Honey, it’s only the tip of the iceberg. We haven’t even looked at fresh fruit and veg, let alone meat! That’s a job for tomorrow. Now help me unpack.” Missy winks at me and continues putting items onto the counter.

Missy is a force of nature, always has been. She loves being the centre of attention and her husband, Jed, makes her feel like a princess. I am thankful he is such a good guy and doesn’t mind Missy dropping everything to help me.

As we pack all the groceries into the car, I’m pretty sure all this activity is enough for me in one day and I just want to return to my new home.

“Missy, can we just go home?”

“What? No! I’m buying you a meal and a few drinks, and then we are going to go home and unpack all of this,” Missy replies as she waves her arms in the direction of my horde. “I’m not cooking tonight, and neither are you.”

I nod and remain silent. We drive to a small pub that has a line of motorcycles out the front. Missy parks the car, switches the engine off and turns to me. I look down at the jeans and one of her off-the-shoulder black tops she suggested I wear. Suddenly, I am grateful she was willing to share her wardrobe and insisted on plastering my pale skin with some light make-up before we left the house.

“Come on, Callie. It’ll be fine.”

“You know, Randall and I never really went out. He often did, but I wasn’t allowed. I’m not sure I can do this,” I admit, apprehension filling my voice.

“That’s why we are doing this together.” Missy opens the car door. “Besides, you’re free now, and it’s time for Callie Harper to experience the world even if it is only the local pub.” She smiles as she gets out.

Feigning courage, I open the door, climb out and smile brightly at her. Missy knows me too well to think I am okay with this, so she links her arm through mine and propels me forward toward the entrance of the pub.

Inside, the place is filled with bikers. Fear takes hold of me as all eyes seem to fixate on us. Missy, her usual bubbly self, smiles hugely and drags me toward the bar. The bartender meets her at the counter, winking at her.

“Ladies, what can we get you?”

I stare at him, my mouth falling slightly open without a hint of a word to follow. This man is gorgeous. He must be over six foot. He has short dark hair, a chiselled jaw, and a tattoo that runs down the length of his left arm. I can’t help but wonder what marks his tanned skin beneath his clothes. More ink?

Consciously, I shift my lust-filled gaze from his body and meet his dark eyes. Charcoal in colour, almost black, they hold me captive. Mesmerising my senses.

“I’ll have a margarita,” Missy replies.

“And you, gorgeous?” I blush at the endearment and scramble to find my voice.

I have no idea. I look to Missy for help. Randall and I met in high school and married shortly after. I’ve never been in the presence of any other man without him and I’m lost as to how I should act. What I should say? Fear of doing or saying the wrong thing is crippling.

Memories of my past creep in to haunt me and I feel myself shrink into the background.

“She’ll have a margarita too,” Missy answers without missing a beat. “And tell me, handsome, where do we order meals?”

“For you?” He reaches under the bar and hands Missy two menus. “You can order it with me and I’ll make sure you get the royal treatment.” He winks at her.

Missy takes the menus and hands me one. I can feel my anxiety rising at my lack of social skills. I tug on Missy’s hand like a terrified child in a crowded place.

“We’ll be right back,” Missy says to the bartender, leaving her menu on the counter.

She leads me to the ladies’ room. I’m still holding my menu in my hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t even know what’s in a margarita,” I confess, trying to reign in my pending panic attack.

“Honey, it’s okay, and trust me, you’re going to love the margarita. Now, how hungry are you?”

“Starving.”

“Okay, so how about we order you an entrée, or do you want to share some garlic bread?” Missy asks as she scans my menu. I shrug at her. The last place I want to be is in a bar surrounded by bikers with wandering eyes.

“Can’t we go home and eat something? I’m exhausted, it’s been a long few days and I’m uncomfortable being here. Did you see all those bikers and the way they looked us over when we walked in?” I shuddered in disgust, suddenly in need of a shower and sleep.

“A quick meal and a drink or two. Then we can go home and sleep off the past few days,” she tells me as she continues to peruse the menu.

“Okay, how about we order a few things? That way if you don’t like something, we can swap.”

Missy repositions herself next to me so I can view the menu.

“Okay, pick something from this column.” Missy points at the menu.

“I’ve never had oysters.”

“Yuck! But if you get them Kilpatrick-style, I can eat them. Now, pick something from here.”

There are so many choices—chicken, steak, fish—I feel overwhelmed and very stupid.

“What about the reef and beef?” Missy suggests.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” I have never ordered a meal for myself before. Randall always took it upon himself to order what he thought I should have wanted.

“Stop it. You, Callie, have nothing to be sorry for. Come on. Let’s get out of the bathroom before they think we’re up to no good.” Missy grins and drags me back out to the bar.

“Is everything okay?” asks the bartender as he stares at me.

“Y-yeah,” I stutter.

“Ladies, my name is Malakai, Kai for short, your friendly bartender.”

“Kai, I’m Missy, and this is my friend, Callie. She’s just moved here today.”

“Welcome to town ladies. You know what that means?” I shake my head at him. “It means first drink is on me.”

“Yay!” Missy claps her hands and smiles sweetly.

“T-thank you.” I smile at him but avoid eye contact. Why can’t I have the kind of confidence and enthusiasm for life that Missy has? Well, I know why, but what if I never find that happy place again? When we first met in primary school, we were so similar. However, she grew into her confidence while I entered adulthood to be torn down and broken, time and time again. As much as I love Missy like a sister, we’ve never been so different.

“How about you ladies grab a seat and I’ll be over in a minute to get your orders. Unless you know what you want?”

Butterflies ricochet off the wall of my stomach. I know what I want. I want to get the fuck out of here before I make a complete dick of myself.

“We know. Garlic bread, oysters Kilpatrick, reef and beef—”

“How would you like that cooked?”

Missy looks at me and I widen my eyes at her. There are multiple ways to cook a steak? Who would have thought?

“She’ll have it well done, and I want the chicken parmy, please.”

Kai gives me a quizzical look, finishes punching the meals into the till and puts the electronic funds transfer machine on the counter for Missy, who pays without asking how much it is.

“Okay, ladies, grab your drinks and make yourselves at home.”

I smile weakly at him, pick up my drink and wait for Missy to lead the way.

Normally, Randall would have me stuck in the corner, out of sight, on the rare occasions we ever went out for a meal. I never saw a menu, nor was I offered a drink or asked what I would like. He took control of everything. Now I feel like a thirty-year-old with no fucking clue. I try to hide my embarrassment and inner turmoil behind my giant coloured drink that looks too pretty to drink. I take a small sip, humming my satisfaction around the straw.

“See, I told you,” Missy laughs, sipping her own.

We take a seat at a round bar table just big enough for the two of us, right in the middle of the room. I keep my eyes on Missy, afraid to take in too much of my surroundings in fear of being seen. I can’t shirk off the sensation of being watched. I know I’m being paranoid, or perhaps it’s the ogling eyes from the leather clad bikers that has my shackles on high alert.