Fumbling with my purse, I hand my card over as she cashes me out.
“Tessa, I didn’t realize—”
“I often wondered what I’d say to you if you ever came back here.” Her tone is no longer full of accusation, but curiosity as she walks around the counter with the bag in her hand. “I guess it shouldn’t matter that you got him first, only that he’s mine to keep.” There’s not a trace of fear or malice in her tone. She’s confident in her marriage.
“I’m nothing but happy for you both.”
I bite my lip as she hands me my bag. “You should grab another dress on your way out, on me. It’s the least I can do. After all, you’re the reason I have my family.”
Emotions warring, I rip my eyes away. What can I say? There’s nothing to say. I feel more like an outsider than I ever have.
Sean’s wife.
She’s probably in on more secrets than I can possibly imagine. Speechless, bag in hand, I turn to leave, and she stops me by speaking up.
“I’m sorry, Cecelia. You didn’t deserve that. But I just can’t look at you without thinking about the beginning.” She lets out a labored breath. “It took me a long time to get close to him. At one point, I almost gave up. And when I found out it was you who…” our eyes lock, “I guess I started to resent you a little and your place with him. All those days I dressed you…” she shakes her head as if clearing the memories and shrugs, but I feel the weight of the act. “Small towns can be a bitch, right? But that was a long time ago. I can’t fault you for being with him, can I?”
Tears threaten as I look back at her and imagine her struggle to try and build something with a man who was closed off due to the loss of his best friend and the woman who he felt betrayed him.
“I don’t know what to say.” Guilt eats me alive, and she gives me a solemn nod. I palm the handle on the door. “You have to know I’m no threat to you. I would never—”
“He would never,” she corrects me confidently. “But, he’s not why you’re back.”
She knows.
She knows my history. And I could give her a number of reasons for my sudden appearance that has nothing to do with her husband, but she’s no fool, and she’s not out for blood.
“Be careful, Cecelia. You know well not everything is what it seems to be.”
It’s not a warning. These are words of caution from an old friend. She’s throwing me a bone, and I accept it. She’s not threatening me, but she clearly resents the fact that I’m here.
And she’s not alone.
I say the only thing I can as the winter wind whips at me from where I stand with the door partially open. “Take care, Tessa.”
Heavily buzzing, I enter the dark, dank bar as a flood of memories come rushing back. Not much has changed. The floor littered with the same small round tables and cheap wooden chairs. The walls glow with a slew of neon signs. The only addition is a thinly carpeted stage and karaoke machine set up next to the jukebox.
“Cecelia?”
Behind the bar, Eddie stands scrutinizing me. I greet him with a smile as visions of the past swim in my head. “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley drifts from the jukebox as if welcoming me back to that time, in this place. The lyrics haunting, fitting, wrapping me up inside them as I sink back into the history I lived here.
“Hey, Eddie.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says as I approach the bar. “He won’t like it.”
No question of who he is.
“Yeah, well, I have an issue with management, and I think it’s time we settled it. I’ll have a Jack and Coke.”
He slowly shakes his head while toweling off a pint glass.
“You really aren’t going to serve me?” I blow out a breath of frustration. “Really, Eddie? I thought we were friends.” I should know better by now. I’m starting to go blind from the gleam of the ‘Scarlet A’ on my chest. I left Tessa’s dress shop feeling like the Whore of Babylon. From the reactions of the people I used to feel safest with, I’ve been reduced to nothing but an old hood groupie.
“You shouldn’t be here, Cecelia,” he repeats.
“Don’t worry. I brought my own.” I pull my half drained brown bottle from my purse and lift it for him to see.
“You can’t bring that in here.”
I pull out my wallet and place a hundred down. “Then give me one.”
Reluctantly, he pulls a bottle of Jack and a glass up from behind the bar, and I slide the money over. He shakes his head, refusing it. “Thanks, Eddie.”
“He’s going to have my nuts for this.”
“But you’re good at keeping secrets, aren’t you?”
He grunts, and I push the money toward him again. “Can I have some change?”
He exchanges the bills in the cash drawer. And I take a few of the singles and stuff the rest in his tip jar. “Good to see you, too.”
I lift the bottle and glass, and he stalks off to tend to a man perched at the bar while eyeing me with warning.
A warning I ignore.
I set my things at the table closest to the jukebox, tumbler in hand, and search through the endless music and pause when I see it.
“Keep on Smilin’” by Wet Willie. The song Sean and I danced to in the street. I searched for it the day after the festival and kept it on repeat for days—reliving those short minutes we spent together before he left me without a word.
And I’d just had a run-in with his wife.
His beautiful wife, who he has two children with.
I toss back a good amount of liquid, trying to extinguish one burn with another. Why in the hell do I have to be the one to pay the highest cost for our shared past?
Because it’s the way it is.
Because I’m the villain.
Because I’m the one encroaching on the reality of now with my hang-ups over the past.
I punch in the numbers and glance around the mostly empty bar, before shrugging off my blazer and taking my seat.
When the music starts to play, my eyes instantly water.
I can’t seek him out now, and I’m terrified to run into him. Terrified of what his reception will be. If it’s half as scalding as his beautiful wife’s, I don’t know if I’ll survive it. The floodwater that separated us years ago is now stale, murky, and unrecognizable. No way to wade through, no way to get around.
I can’t go back there. I can’t move forward without my answers. I thumb my engagement ring and decide to box it in the morning. It’s going to be the most painful step to fully let go of my future—of Collin—before I make peace with the past. But that’s the order of things, and it’s time. I didn’t come back to drown. I came back in search of my kick. Lost in my thoughts, a masculine scent invades me before a familiar voice whispers in my ear.
“Can I have this dance?”
I turn my head, and my jaw drops when recognition kicks in. “Tyler?”
“Hey, Cee,” he says softly, his eyes filled with warmth where he towers above me, his hands on the table. Stumbling back, I leap from my seat and lunge for him, he catches me easily, pulling me into a bear hug.
I hug him so tight he coughs out a chuckle of surprise. “I almost didn’t recognize you in a suit.”