I pick up the remote and hit rewind.
“Hey, I was watching that,” Billy protests.
“Sorry,” I whisper faintly. “Sorry, just a second. It’ll playback.”
When I’ve gone back a few seconds with a clear view, I hit pause and cover my mouth.
“Oh my God.” I would know that face anywhere, that hair, those eyes, and if he were smiling, that dimple.
Tyler.
Marissa rounds the corner, eyeing me. “Cecelia? What? What is it?”
I drink Tyler in amongst the line of a few standing guard behind our President and scan him from head to foot, his posture tight, his eyes are drawn sharp, watchful, his face stoic. The man standing guard doesn’t much at all resemble the jokester I know and love. But it’s him. It’s Tyler.
Tyler is guarding the President.
I can’t even form words as everyone at the counter stares at me with odd looks. I give myself a second, and then another.
I clear my throat and shrug. “Nothing, I swear, I thought I saw a ghost. Sorry y’all.” I hit play and barely hear Marissa. “He’s okay-looking, I guess, but he could use a tan.”
Hand visibly trembling, I manage to set down the coffee pot, shaking in revelation.
They’re everywhere. The banks, the stock market. All of it. It was them.
They’ve infiltrated the fucking White House.
I don’t know why it surprises me, but the sight of Tyler standing in such an esteemed position has me utterly astonished. Palms sweating, I try to gather my wits and fail.
They’ve done it.
They’re still doing it.
And it comforts me so much. I feel safer knowing whatever agenda they have. It’s the right one. A pride-filled tear threatens, and I haul ass through the service doors to the kitchen and tuck myself in a corner near the baker’s rack.
“You sons of bitches,” I whisper, covering my mouth, my smile widening as I shake my head and tears fall freely down my cheeks. Inside I feel hysterical.
After a few minutes and a few deep inhales, I school my expression and walk back out into the cafe addressing Marissa.
“The deposit is on my desk, could you possibly take it today?”
“Sure, love, you okay?” concern covers her features.
“Fine. I…just want to get home early and let my dog out. There’s a storm coming and he’s afraid of them.”
“No problem. See you in the morning, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
It’s odd how that word can be used as a weapon or term of endearment. Dominic used it once or twice. But I don’t look back anymore with resentment. It’s pride I feel now when I remember my time in my parents’ life choice purgatory. It’s not the hard times I think of. It’s hiking with Sean or watching Dominic read, or sipping wine while gazing at fireflies underneath the night sky with Tobias.
It’s love I had, and love I took with me.
And it’s my greatest strength. It’s my true superpower.
Feeling the rumble of thunder, I exit the café and make it halfway to my car when I feel the air still. I search the parking lot and come up empty before giving myself a second to rationalize the static is nothing but the coming storm. I bat away the part of me that wants to mourn in disappointment. I’ve done enough of that. My tears have long since dried up.
I’m living the life I chose—day by day. No expectations, little responsibility. No ambitious quest, no fight with my conscience. Simple. Uncomplicated. A life I refuse to waste looking in the rearview. I took a monotonous role not to pay penance, but for peace of mind and the ability to think about what I want moving forward. I want to be okay with simplicity, the kind that entails honest work and aching feet. It’s humbling if anything, and for the first time, it makes sense to me. I want to smile while doing it.
And some days—most days—I do.
I don’t begrudge my past anymore for the future I have. It’s wide open, but for now, I’m keeping it simple until I come up with a different plan. Purse strapped over my shoulder, I take strides toward my car and climb in. Buckling in, I frown when I see the window on the passenger side is rolled down. I don’t remember leaving it that way. Thankful I missed the storm, I turn the engine over. I jump back in my seat when “K.” by Cigarettes After Sex bursts through the speakers.
I haven’t heard it in years, not since the day I blasted it out in the woods…
I jump out of the Camaro and do a three-sixty, scanning the parking lot.
“Only one other has a key to this car, and it won’t ever be used.”
No. No. No.
The haunting melody drifts through the window of the idling car, bringing me back to a day where my life forever changed.
Frantically, I search the parking lot again and come up empty. I did not and would not have had that song playing. I peek in to see it’s connected to Bluetooth and pull out my phone furiously, closing out my apps, but the song continues to play. It’s not my phone it’s connected to. I press my hands to the hood. Warm.
Is this another game?
I can’t stomach anymore.
I laid us to rest—the past. I left. I did what he asked. What the hell is the point of this? I scan the small shopping center again, and it’s then I spot Tobias stepping out of the A & P, a grocery bag in his hands. The sight of him in dark jeans and a T-shirt is foreign but electrifying. His posture is relaxed, but his brows are drawn in concentration. I know it the minute he realizes I’m standing there, and he tenses and stops mid-step, a second before his amber eyes lift to mine.
He rakes me from head to foot as I cross my arms and whistle.
“Wow. Not only did you steal the car for a joyride, but you decided to go grocery shopping after? You’ve got some balls on you, and your arrogance knows no bounds.”
I don’t miss the twitch of a smile as he approaches, and then it’s gone. I tear my eyes away, my pride only taking me so far. He’s so fucking beautiful, and in a way that snatches sanity. I can’t afford to lose an ounce more.
“I knew you took it.”
“It was a parting gift from Sean. And rightfully yours if you want it, but please…” I rasp out hoarsely. “Don’t take it.”
“I get my way, no matter what. You know that, and you weren’t supposed to get off until four.”
“Well, I took off early, and I guess I shouldn’t put it past you to snake the one possession I care about.” I duck into the Camaro and kill it, slamming the door after retrieving the key and my purse. All yours. Now I really do hate you. Are you happy?”
“No. Not at all. You’re a waitress, who gave up millions of dollars and are living in another bum fucked town in the middle of nowhere, Virginia. You think that makes me happy?”
“I don’t care what that makes you. I’m happy. I love this town. And I’m not penniless. I own that café and the house I’m living in. You think I’m really dumb enough to give away every cent? I grew up poor. I’ll never be that damned generous.”
Confusion flits over his features. “You own it?”
“Technically, my mother does.”
“Why Meggie’s?”
I damn near laugh at the fact that he hasn’t put it together.
Men.
“It’s a long story.”