“I have hated Mia Miller with a vengeance since I was seventeen years old. I’ve had revenge fantasies. I envisioned her ending up in jail or leading a miserable life somewhere, repenting for all she put me through when she was younger, but I never, ever expected to run into her in my local coffee shop just as I’m trying to put my life back together again.”

“Did she say anything when you were introduced?” Phil asked.

“No. She had no idea who I was. For which I’m glad, by the way.”

“So you’re not going to confront her?” Jared asked.

“God no. Why would I do that?” Lou swallowed a large gulp of wine.

“Because you’ll be seeing a lot of her. Your lot are always hanging out at the Pink Bean. It’s like lesbian central in Darlinghurst, but a much classier version of what I ever could have imagined that to be,” Jared joked. “You can’t see her almost every day and walk around with this grudge. It will eat you alive. You should get it out into the open. Make her apologize.”

Lou shook her head vehemently. “No. What’s an apology going to do for me now, anyway? It’s much too late for that. I’ll just ignore her as best I can. I’ll avoid the Pink Bean for now. I heard Micky say she’s in training, getting ready to set up a new branch elsewhere. So it’s only temporary. It can be done.”

“Oh, Lou. Are you sure?” Phil asked. “Are you going to be all right?”

She smiled. “I’ll be fine.” Of course she would be fine. She didn’t have much choice, just like she hadn’t had any choice but to get on with things fifteen years ago, when Mia had been her daily tormentor. When she took it all in silence and never let anyone see her cry—apart from her father.

“Do you want us to boycott the Pink Bean as long as she’s a barista there?” Jared asked.

“Of course not. I don’t want you to change anything about how you conduct yourselves.”

“Is there anything we can do to help at all?” Phil asked.

Lou shook her head again. “I really don’t see what can be done about it. I’ll just need to be patient and hope Kristin decides to open that new branch soon.”

“Just to be clear,” Jared said, “it is okay for Phil and me to go to the open mic tomorrow evening? Josephine Greenwood is performing and I have a feeling we won’t be able to hear her sing at our local coffee shop for much longer.”

“Jared. Come on,” Phil said. “We don’t have to go.”

“It’s fine. You guys go.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Jared asked. “There’s safety in numbers, you know?”