Page 45 of Lessons in Love

“Don’t. Move,” I breathe. Of course, he has to be here. Today of all days.

“Eden, what’s wrong?” Oliver asks again, putting his hand on top of mine. I realise that I haven’t let him go and I’m sure my fingernails are going to leave marks.

“It’s just…” He continues on his way, heading down the street. “Nothing. Let’s go in.”

“Ex-boyfriend?” I’m taken aback by Oliver’s question. His eyes pierce mine with genuine concern.

“Huh?”

“That was your ex-boyfriend, right? Usually, people don’t act like that unless they’ve seen an ex.”

I hate how right he always is.

“Yeah. We uh…dated in high school. Casually, nothing serious. We broke up when I went to uni and he hates me for it.”

“Why would he hate you for that?”

I sigh. The car suddenly becomes too hot, too small. And I know full-well Oliver won’t let me get away without answering him. “He didn’t want that for me. If it was his choice, we would be married with three kids by now,” I scoff, but the memory still stings. We wanted such different things, but that didn’t stop him from trying to squeeze me into a box. “You know,” I continue, feeling a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest. “When we were putting in university preferences, he got into my account and removed all of them. Just so I wouldn’t have any other option but him. Thank God I went to double-check the night before they were submitted.” The look Oliver gives me squeezes my heart.

“Eden, that’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, well. The past is in the past. It also helped that he moved on pretty quick with my best friend.” I blink away tears I didn’t realise were threatening to fall. There’s a reason why, as much as I love coming home, I’m here just for my family. Nothing else. “Let’s just get inside, okay? Mum will think I crashed into another fence if we take too long.” He chuckles at that, releasing the tension a bit. Taking a second to compose myself in the mirror, I slide out of the car and onto the familiar brick pavement.

The shops haven’t changed in years. Still the same, faded shopfronts littering the main street of town. There’s a newsagency, a post office. One or two discount stores. A bakery. A café. And the most important part of any country town—the Chinese restaurant.

I check the list Mum gave me. Everything should be in this order. Hopefully. The less time we spend in town the better. I’m always happy coming home. It’s just the memories that linger that are the problem.

Oliver falls into step next to me as we make our way to the craft store—thankfully dodging any more awkward encounters— and walk up to the front counter. The shop’s still the same as I remember. Cramped, but with fluorescent lights exposing everything underneath. A hog-podge collection of things piled up to the ceilings. But you’ll always be able to find exactly what you need, or exactly what you don’t need. whether it be for an art project or a party.

“My, my! If it isn’t the little Eden Miller!” Mrs Williams makes her way from behind the desk and envelops me in a hug that smells like rose perfume and mothballs. You know. Typical old-lady smells. She releases me and holds me out at an arm’s length. “And look how much you’ve grown! That city air must be good for you!” Her eyes slide from me to Oliver. “And who is this handsome young gentleman?” Oliver extends a hand to shake, but Mrs Williams pulls him into a bone-crushing embrace.

“This is Oliver. Oliver, Mrs Williams,” I respond as his face slowly grows more and more red.

“Oliver!” She pulls away and pinches his cheek, then addresses me. “You certainly know how to pick a good-looking man.”

“Oh, he’s not my— “

“Oh, she’s not my— “

Mrs Williams smiles at us knowingly, unphased by our simultaneous outbursts.

“Umm. We’re just here to pick some things up Mum ordered.” I clear my throat, tapping my fingers nervously on the desk in front of me. She nods.

“I’ll be right back, dear.” Mrs Williams leaves us in silence.

“She seems nice,” Oliver says after a few beats.

“Yeah, she is.”

“Doesn’t seem too mad about the fence.” I shoot him a glare as he innocently looks back at me. “Hey. You’re the one who told me, remember?”

“That was my mother, I believe.”

Mrs Williams returns before I can wipe that grin off his perfectly composed face. Fucker. “Now, this should be everything.” There are three medium-sized boxes on top of a trolley, and before I can object Oliver rolls up his sleeves and picks the top one up. I hate that I’m mesmerised by the way his forearms flex as he lifts. Sue me. I’m just a girl. I try not to think about what he looked like when he and Ben were working out. All hot and sweaty. Shirtless. Panting. Fuck me.

Literally.

“Eden?”