Page 17 of The Way I Hate Him
“If hell is being able to smell and stare at Hayes Farrow daily, tell me where to sign up.”
“You need help.”
“I know.” We both laugh.
“Hey, I’m at The Almond Store, and I need to present myself to my sister, see if I can find a place to stay.”
“Good luck. Let me know how it goes.”
“I will.”
I hang up the phone and turn off my car, but don’t exit right away.
I need to take a second.
The last time I was in The Almond Store, Cassidy’s pride and joy besides her daughter, I was picking up some almond butter to take back to school. Cassidy teased me about taking advantage of the family discount—free—and then gave me one of her signature hugs.
Warm and full of love.
Cassidy was my best friend growing up. Nine years older than me, she took me under her wing and kept me close. She played with me, even when she was too old to be playing with dolls. She colored with me. She spent countless hours making up dances to our favorite songs with me. I idolized her and when Mom passed, she was so...present. In some ways, she became my mom.
When she was diagnosed with breast cancer, just like our mom, it felt like I was living in some sort of dream, like it wasn’t happening in real life but in some sick nightmare.
And when I got the call that she died, I broke down. For days, Maggie held me as I cried. She never said anything, just sat there with me like the best friend that she is.
I came back for the funeral, and we released her ashes in the bay.
And when her will was read to us, I felt . . . let down.
Ryland was assigned the challenging task of taking custody of MacKenzie, an assignment I can understand. He has a solid job, he has no plans of leaving Almond Bay, he’s situated in his life, and can offer stability to a four-year-old after losing her mother.
But The Almond Store?Ourdream? It went to Aubree. The store and the farm.
And sure, Aubree helped out at the store, she knows how to run things, but it doesn’t negate the hurt. The Almond Store is my baby with Cassidy. I helped her design and come up with the concept. Aubree could have taken the farm, but the store . . . Cassidy should have left that to me to carry on the legacy we created.
I’ve never expressed my feelings about it because I didn’t want to sound jealous or bring up bad feelings in a moment when we should be coming together to support each other and MacKenzie, but fuck does it make me sick to my stomach.
And I know walking in there will bring up all of those feelings.
The feeling of loss, not seeing Cassidy behind the counter, not feeling her sunny hug, not seeing her joyful smile.
I take a deep breath, willing back the tears. Don’t cry.
Crying will do nothing.
You’re in a predicament, and crying will not help the situation, especially with Aubree.She’s not one who deals with crying very well. Or emotions in general.
I lock my car, then move around to the front of the store. One of the reasons we loved this building so much in town—it used to be a salon—is because it’s in the shape of a triangle, and the entrance is at the tip, giving it a unique and cute storefront.
We whitewashed the outside that used to be a deep red brick, added a pale blue and white-striped awning, tore out the old linoleum floors, and replaced them with white oak. It was a hell of a job, but I helped her one summer, and nothing felt more satisfying when it was all done. We kept the theme of open white shelving held up by iron brackets, with white oak islands in the middle of the store in the shape of triangles to go with the flow of the floor plan, and filled the empty spots with black-and-white photos of the farm as well as eucalyptus branches. It’s my favorite place to be not just because of the memories but the smell as well.
The door rings as I walk through, and Aubree, who is hunched over the counter, looking through her iPad with a serious expression pulling on her brow, glances up. When she recognizes me, she stands taller.
“Hattie, what are you doing here?”
“That’s how you’re going to greet me?” I ask as I walk up to her.
Aubree, not much of a hugger, offers me her one arm and taps me on the back, almost as if we’re sharing a bro hug. “Good to see you. Now what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school?”
