Tequila Rose

by Willow Winters

  “Oh, I didn’t order this,” I say to correct him, although I will definitely be ordering fried pickles the moment he takes them away.

  “I think you might need them,” Brody tells me, leaning in close. I get another whiff of him, but it’s too short lived as he pulls away. “You’ve got to share the pickles, though. They’re my favorite.”

  “Mine too,” I say, pushing the basket so it’s between the both of us instead of in front of my lonesome seat. “Whenever they’re on a menu, I always get them.”

  I pop the first one into my mouth and bite down, but immediately my mouth makes an O and I breathe out. “They’re hot,” I comment around the pickle and cover my mouth with both hands. The steam blows against them.

  I feel like such a mess and foolish.

  Brody’s chuckle eases me, though. I could get used to a laugh like that and the way it lights me up is like something I haven’t felt before.

  Maybe it’s just because I haven’t flirted in so long. That has to be why I feel all these butterflies.

  I can’t even remember the last time I had fun like this.

  We stay until “Closing Time” plays on the speakers and they turn the lights on full blast in the bar, ushering us out. By that point, everything is a blur. It all happens so fast but it’s seemingly so right.

  It turns out Brody’s a gentleman, waiting with me for my Uber to come. It’s colder than it was when I came down here and he gives me his jacket. As he’s doing it, I get up on my tiptoes and steal a kiss. Surprise lights inside of me that I did it. Then other feelings spread through me.

  My kiss may have been short and sweet but the one Brody gives me in return, with his hand on my chin and his scent and warmth wrapping around me, is anything but short. It’s also far more sinful than sweet.

  Renee was right about the kiss. Some men do kiss in a way that’s different. Searing. I don’t need to kiss another man in my life to know that this one isn’t like any of the rest.

  I knew I shouldn’t have gone home with him but I did anyway, having the Uber take us to his friend’s place instead of mine.

  I didn’t pay attention to where we were going and where he was taking me. I was too busy with my lips pressed to his while my eyes were closed.

  I was still at his friend’s place, contemplating sneaking out and accepting the walk of shame with my head held high when my phone rang far too early the next morning. I could still feel him and the dull ache of a good night when I answered the call with a whisper in his bathroom.

  Everything changed in that moment.

  I snuck out after crying silently on the floor of his bathroom, not letting him see what a wreck I was after the call.

  The one-night stand I had was my first and last.

  Because that morning, my life changed forever ... in more than one way.

  Magnolia

  Present day in Beaufort, South Carolina

  Bridget’s curls bounce like they have a mind of their own. I don’t know where she gets the light brunette color from, but those curls are all mine.

  She doesn’t even look back to say goodbye to me; all I can see is a head of golden curls as she races to sit down in the circle on the bright blue rug. I think taking her to the library for weekly readings was exactly what she needed to transition to daycare. She knows all the little songs by heart and plops down next to Sandra’s little ones like she belongs right there. Autumn told me it would help the shift in her routine and she was so right.

  And to think I thought today would be hard on Bridget and not me. A long, slow breath leaves me, my cheeks puffed as I wave goodbye to Trent, the owner. I grew up next to him and his mom ran this daycare before he did.

  “It’ll be good for her,” she says and Renee doesn’t try to hide the amusement in her voice in the least as she pushes open the front door. A little beep went off just before and I turn to look over my shoulder to say goodbye again.

  “I know, knock it off,” I say then hip bump her as our heels click on the sidewalk. It’s only 9:00 a.m. and we’re late for Bridget’s first day here, but the court hearing was earlier. Everyone in town knows that. And court took precedent. Thank goodness Renee loves watching Bridget in the morning. I know Autumn or Sharon would help out with Bridget if they could, but their mornings on a good day are even more hectic than mine was today.

  “Let’s grab drinks tonight and celebrate this mess being over,” Renee says, taking the lead with her suggestion as she opens her driver side door and I climb into the passenger seat.

  I feel drained and emotional and I wish I had half the energy and confidence Renee has right now.

  The sound of her keys clanging together isn’t followed with the start of the engine. It’s quiet, too quiet, and I tilt my head, leaning it back against the seat to see her big hazel eyes staring back at me.

  “Wine Down Wednesday with the girls?” I ask but she shakes her head.

  “Something tonight.”

  “I don’t know about tonight …” I want to crawl in bed and sleep for a decade after what I just went through. She must read my thoughts in my expression.

  “Maggie, it’s done and over with. You can breathe now.”

  I make a show of puffing up my cheeks again and blowing out an annoyingly long breath just for her. I would have kept going but she laughs and that makes me laugh.

  “That’s better,” she says and gives me a shit-eating grin.

  “You know I love you, right?”

  She hesitates to back out of the parking space after starting the car, and the music from the radio fills the small space. I have to reach over to turn it down before I add, “I couldn’t do this without you.”

  Renee swipes a wild strand of her auburn hair out of her face then says, “Yes you could. And I love you too.”

  I roll my eyes at her nonchalance and buckle up for whatever she has planned.

  I’m not working today since it’s Bridge’s first day at daycare. Although I told my boss it’s because of the court hearing.

  “She got nothing.” Renee places a singsong cadence on the last word.

  “She didn’t deserve anything,” I say and stare straight ahead as we pass Main Street. The bakery’s sign is getting a fresh coat of bright white paint around the script letters that read Melissa’s Sweets.

  I roll down the window and the faint smell of fresh mulch and spring flowers fills my lungs. Resting against the seat, I take in all the small-town shops that have been here since I was a child. From way back when my mother was still alive and my father still pretended to be a good man.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through it all,” Renee says and this time she sounds serious.

  My throat’s tight as I smile at her and give a little nod. “It’s done now.”

  “Still …” she trails off then huffs, and the wind from her own rolled-down window blows back her hair. “To go through the scandal, the breakup, your dad dying. All at once and not getting closure for three years.” She shakes her head slightly.

  “A small sum of money isn’t closure,” I say, correcting her. “I lost my dad a long time ago. Four freaking years. The scandal isn’t mine, even if everyone acts like it is.”

  “He tainted your name. Williamson used to hold a certain regard in this town. Your family was a good family with a trusted name.” Even though the car comes to a halt at the stop sign, she keeps talking.

  She’s not saying anything I don’t know but instead of looking at her as she rants, I watch Mr. Henderson tend to his garden in his front yard.

  “Your father destroyed your family name, left you with nothing after embezzling and stealing from practically every family in this town. Nothing but a money-hungry ho who fought you for four years over the pennies he left behind.”

  The way she says the last sentence under her breath makes me chuckle. It’s been more than three years, the settlement is final and now I can finally breathe. I just need to shake off all this bad energy.

  “And the basta
rd had the nerve to die of a heart attack when it all broke.”

  My father was an asshole for what he did, but I still hate that he died so suddenly. I hate that I have no family. Especially in a small town like this. Tears prick, but I keep them back.

  “I’m sorry, Mags.” Renee’s no-nonsense attitude is what I need ninety-nine percent of the time. Maybe today I should take some time alone, though.

  “Today’s just an emotional day,” I say, giving her the lame excuse and dabbing under my eyes as we move forward. I focus on the scenery of the town I grew up in as it passes us by. Beaufort is a beautifully maintained small town with Southern charm.

  Anyone who comes here for a visit would fall in love.

  They don’t see that it’s filled with old secrets. Grudges passed down from generations long past. And judgment from literally everyone. This town talks and four years ago, the name Williamson became synonymous with scandal.

  I was a debutante and heir to an enterprise my father built. In one night, I became a pariah. Add in the pregnancy conception that night too and well, no one wanted a thing to do with me.

  I had debt I couldn’t cover. An education I couldn’t continue with … having the rug ripped out from under me didn’t exactly make perfect sense at the age of twenty-one.

  “I’m happy I have you and Robert.” I come to the conclusion at the same time I speak the words. I have my two other girlfriends too, but as we’ve gotten older, our time together is less and less. Four years ago, when shit hit the fan, I didn’t want to be around anyone. Renee insisted on helping me, and Robert, much to my surprise, did too. I didn’t realize how much I needed them to get through it all. I don’t know how I would have survived without them.

  Renee’s brow raises at “Robert,” but she bites her tongue.

  “You know I couldn’t have stayed here if he hadn’t helped me.” She knows that’s true. Not a single soul who was capable of helping offered me any assistance. Renee is my best friend, but she didn’t know a single thing about the charges and how the legalities would play out, let alone have the money to pay for everything up front. Robert did, using his local family connections, and he stood by me when no one else with his background would.

  The town whispers that he still loves me. They think I broke up with him when I found out I got pregnant by someone I cheated on him with. Inwardly, I roll my eyes. They have no idea what the truth is, but I let them talk. I wouldn’t tarnish Robert’s name when he’s the only one who protected me and provided for me financially, emotionally … and in other ways too.

  “He stood by you in one way and threw you under the bus in another.”

  “Because he didn’t want to date me anymore?” My voice is filled with ridicule.

  Renee remains silent. She knows what happened when most people here don’t.

  “Thank you for not judging me,” I say softly, not wanting to fight. Especially not over Robert. If Renee is known for anything, it’s the fact that she can hold a grudge like no other.

  “I would never judge you. Never, Mags. Never. You have to do what’s right for you,” she says, her tone adamant as we pull up to my townhouse. “Even if you are a complete disgrace to your Southern heritage,” she says, mocking Robert’s mother’s accent.

  Everyone else I give a pass to because that’s just how this town is. That woman, though, is a bitch with a stick up her ass. I don’t even like to cuss, but she gets two of those words in her description in my thoughts.

  The car slows to a stop in front of my door.

  “I’ll pick you up at eight?” she suggests and I relent to the idea of having a few drinks to celebrate.

  “Yeah. Eight works,” I answer and mindlessly go over the schedule I have for today. Opening my car door, I think out loud and say, “Miss Terbont will be here then. Although you know she’s usually ten minutes late.”

  Renee grins wide and says, “That works for me. I can have a quick tea party with my little Bridgey.”

  “Perfect,” I say and shut the door after adding, “See you tonight, love.”

  Renee blows a kiss to me and I watch her drive off before finding the key to my front door.

  I don’t need it, though, since Robert’s standing on my porch with a handsome smile on his face.

  “Robert.” I greet him warmly and can’t help that I smile when I see the way he looks at me. Once you have love for someone, I think it’s always there. Either that or hate, and I could never hate him.

  He’s always in dress pants and a tie. The one he’s wearing right now is my favorite. The deep navy blue fabric matches his eyes and makes them pop. With a clean-shaven face showing off his angular jaw and his hair cut short, but a little longer on top, he is the epitome of a Southern gentleman. A good ole boy with dirty blond hair and a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Told you that you’d win,” he says with a slightly cocky undertone and then he reaches out for me. His strong arms open wide and I don’t hesitate to fall into him. He lets out a rough groan of victory as he picks me up off my feet.

  I don’t mean to squeal but it’s my instinct.

  I’m still laughing when he sets me down on my feet, my heels clicking and then I open the door.

  Tossing the keys on the kitchen counter and flicking the lights on, I don’t bother asking him to come in. He owns the place, after all.

  It’s modest but with updated appliances and has everything Bridget and I could need or want. My purse drops to the rustic front table that matches the rest of the place. The pops of teal and yellow throughout keep it happy and bright. It’s a home. Robert helped me build a home for my little girl and I don’t think Renee can understand that.

  “You want to celebrate?” he asks as he kicks the door shut behind him. Even after everything we’ve been through, he still manages to ignite desire inside of me. He’s already working on loosening the knot of his tie. The poor guy is about to have blue balls.

  “I can’t,” I tell him, giving him a small pout to mirror the one that immediately appears on his face.

  “Should I come by later tonight?”

  “I’m going out with Renee,” I answer him as I watch him struggle to knot the tie again.

  He may be twenty-five, but he looks older, more dignified. We’ve both gone through some rough moments in our lives; I imagine that’s what they do to people. They age them.

  Still … he’s charming, sweet, comes from money and has a bright future in politics. He shouldn’t be with me. Both of us know it, yet here we are. It would have been so easy for him to walk away.

  “After, then?” he asks, lifting up his collar and watching his movements in the small mirror in the foyer while he fiddles with the tie.

  “After what?” My wandering thoughts are ripped back to the present.

  “Should I come by tonight, after you celebrate with your friends?”

  “Do you collect rent from all your tenants that late at night?” I tease him and then step in between him and the small table, helping him adjust his tie again. The expensive silk slides easily for me. I’ve done this so many times. His hands land protectively on my hips and I hate how much it soothes the little broken pieces inside me.

  I’ve relied on a man who keeps me a secret. A dirty little secret of being a kept woman. I have money to pay rent, but he refuses to take it. At first he said he was just helping out a friend. I needed more than a friend, though. Losing my house, my inheritance being stalled because of my father’s entitled girlfriend, and needing to figure out how I was going to raise a child on my own, was almost too much for me to deal with. When it all kept piling up, one thing on top of another, I needed far more than a friend to help me handle the curveballs life kept throwing at me.

  Robert gave me what I needed. Even if it was wrong in some ways.

  He isn’t my boyfriend and he’ll never be my husband. Yet I let him come and go as he pleases. More than that, I seek refuge in our messed-up relationship.

  I pat his chest when the tie is fi
rmly where it should be, but he doesn’t move his hands from my waist.

  “I’m happy it’s over, Mags,” he whispers deep and rough, bending down to kiss the tip of my nose. It’s instinct to lean into him and he wraps his arms around me like a comforting blanket.

  “Me too,” I murmur into his firm chest.

  “Shit, I can’t come tonight,” he says. His acknowledgment has him taking a step back and I right myself. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he mutters, “I have that dinner with the governor.”

  Two years ago, at the start of his political track he would have been eager and excited for the dinner. Now he’s a pro and all the meetings and fundraisers blur together.

  Politics is why he could never be with a woman like me. How could he ever win an election in the South, marrying a “disgraced” woman like me? I roll my eyes at the thought. It’s not like I’m looking for anything anyway. I haven’t since the moment my life fell apart, followed by my little baby girl falling into my lap.

  “I hope you have some pretty little arm candy to accompany you to this one,” I say to rib him a little, giving him my back as I slip off my heels.

  He doesn’t answer even though it’s just a joke. It gets to him sometimes, the fact that we’re quiet about all this between us. I’m grateful for the relationship. Without him, I don’t know how I would have navigated all the lawyers and financial troubles. Let alone cope with life in general.

  I will always love Robert for being there for me. Even if I’m nothing more than his little secret.

  I give him a peck on the lips, grabbing ahold of his shoulders. “Have fun tonight; I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Brody

  “It’s good, isn’t it?” Griffin’s question comes with the hollow thunk of his empty glass hitting the bar-height table in the back corner of the brewery. “The best recipe yet.” He double taps the bottom of his tasting glass after throwing back the small bit of what was left in it.