Weekend Goal

Chapter 20: Perfect Doesn't Exist

I didn't go to work today or yesterday or the day before that either; I've had too much to think about, too many things to do.

Hours, bloody hours I've spent coming up with a more suitable menu for the club, and somehow nothing seems right. I agree with Sanne, people want more than frozen chips and greasy burgers, but I don't think they want little mini-finger sandwiches and cupcakes either. The club has to be a success and I want it to be perfect. I want to walk away knowing that I did everything I could to make it work.

I've written out the wanted ad too, you know, the one for the café. Well, what I mean is I've written it out about a hundred times and I just can't get that right either. Like, I know that moving on is the right thing for me, but how am I going to find the right person to look after the place when I'm not here? The café has been mine for like, forever and I can't just let anyone take charge - I'm okay with someone staying in my house, sleeping in my bed even - but I'm just not okay with someone running or ruining my café, it's my whole life, almost.

I've got all the paint for the house too. I'm just going to rent the place out when I go, well, wherever I'm planning on going. And my mum keeps nagging that I should just rent it out asap. She said that I could stay with her for a bit and then I was a bit sick in my mouth at the thought of that idea. I can't do that; I can't move back home with my mother. I've lived independently since I was seventeen and the thought of moving back to my teenage bedroom while in my thirties is just too much.

* * *

Cooper and I arranged to meet at the club before training; I want to show him the menu I've come up with.

"Did you get your hair done?" he asks me as soon as I walk into his office.

I'm surprised he noticed, he never did when we were dating. "Yes, my nails too," I say, holding out my hands for him to look.

"How can you work in the café with nails like that?"

"Well, I quit."

"You own the place, you're the boss. How do you quit?"

"Nevermind that," I say, dismissing him. "The menu. It's good, huh?"

"It's, yeah . . . it's good."

He hates it, I can tell. "You don't like it."

"No, it's not that. But is it affordable? We've got to cut costs. People who come to watch football don't want to spend a fortune on fancy food."

I'm kind of impressed that he thinks my menu is fancy. "But it's not . . . fancy," I say because it really isn't. But if Cooper's idea of fancy food is halloumi fries, then it's no wonder that The Golden Heart and a greasy pizza on the way home was his idea of a really good date.

"It is. You think that Dave and the boys want to come and watch the match and be poncing about with olives and smashed avocado on toast?"

He was so infuriating. "You know, my guess would be that Dave and his boys won't be coming to watch the match if the teams don't start winning games. We have shit football and shit food right about now, and things need to change sharpish. Maybe football fans don't want avocado on toast and that's okay, but we need to make money. I came up with this too . . ." I say, showing him a rough timetable of activities I came up with.

Cooper studies my plan intently and, for the first time in what feels like forever, he's actually quiet. "I think this could work," he eventually says. "And I think your menu is perfect."

I smile at him smugly. And we hug.

"This will work, won't it?" he says.

And I know he's talking about the football club, but part of me hopes that he's talking about us - him and me, and . . . the sane part of me knows it could never, we could never be, that ship has long since sailed. I notice the time on the clock behind the desk. The girls will be here soon. "I have to go."

"But we have training. You're dressed in your kit."

"I know. But something came up and I have to go somewhere and it's really important." I say, hoping he doesn't ask where.

"Where could be more important than this club right now? Tell me, Rosie, where, where do you need to go?"

It seems that even hope has deserted me. "I have an appointment . . . okay, it's at the hospital and it's really important."

"Are you ill? Did you find another one of those weird moles? Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that. It's . . ." I begin to say before being cut off mid-sentence by Sanne who arrives for training fifteen minutes early, thankfully she heads straight to the toilet before engaging in small talk. "I have to go, but we'll talk about it another time, okay? Show Sanne the menu and the activities timetable, see what she thinks, okay?"

Cooper doesn't answer.

"Okay," I say again and leave before he gets the chance to question me again and before Sanne returns from the bathroom. I will have this conversation with Cooper, just not today.