by Celeste, B.
“We’ll go slow,” he assures me. “I think slow is good, you know? If you’re not in a place to have a label, then this could be perfect for us.”
Does he really want that? It seems like he wants more, but I can’t read him. Emma keeps asking if we’re together or not and says that David likes me. Likes me, likes me. But when we’re together, I don’t see it in his eyes. Then again, do I even know what I’m looking for?
No, you don’t, that pestering voice comments silently to me.
Shoving it away, I find my own voice amidst the sound of wind hitting the car as it flies down the highway. “Slow. I … I like slow.”
David’s smile broadens.
Spending the day with the Chens was surprisingly fun. Jossy, David’s niece, asked us to play tea party with her. Seeing David sit on the ground around a table half his size and try picking up miniscule plastic teacups with his big fingers was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever witnessed. It never stopped him from telling her how good the tea was (it was dirty water) or how delicious the food was (it was plastic).
His sister Asa talked with me about art and school and her little brother. Never once did she ask what we were, if we were dating or planned to, and I knew David was to thank for that. Slow. I could do slow. Right?
When she went to tend her daughter, I asked David why her name seemed more traditional to Asian culture, and he told me that she was born in China, but his parents didn’t want to live by the one-child rule, so they moved to America for a fresh start. A year after they settled into the States, they had him and opted for an American name in hopes he would fit in better than Asa, who struggled with the culture difference.
After a late lunch and presents, David and I left to travel back to Bridgeport. Jossy loved the bracelet and asked me to help put it on. My nerves were extinguished and replaced with contentedness, because a few years ago, I wouldn’t have even given this type of thing a thought—dating, meeting somebody else’s family. That version of me was scared of the world. I think I’ll always be in some ways, but not like I was.
I’m stronger.
And when David dropped me off and walked me to the door in front of Painter’s Choice, I knew what he was going to do. He would lean in and press his soft lips to my cheek and tell me goodnight. The old me would stiffen until he retracted, tell him goodnight, and walk inside.
I didn’t want to be the old me anymore.
When he leaned in to peck my cheek, I turned and captured his lips with mine. He startled but didn’t pull away, instead, pressing a little deeper against me. I waited for something to happen; the tingles in the pit of my stomach, the fire in my chest, the desire building until I couldn’t take it. None of that happened, leaving me empty and thinking about the way I felt when Everett kissed me and touched me and talked to me in a low, raspy voice. I thought about all the things I shouldn’t while another man kissed me.
When David drew back, his eyes were brimming with hope. Mine didn’t look the same. He could tell, because he cleared his throat, squeezed my hand, and left.
I spent all night remembering the distraught expression on his face. Maybe it resembled mine, because I thought kissing David would make me forget about kissing Everett; forget everything I did with him that was off limits to me.
It doesn’t really work that way, I guess. After a restless night of tossing and turning, I slip on a pair of black yoga pants and loose tee with an unknown logo across the front that I bought from a thrift store and head toward Landmark Café for much needed coffee. I could have made some with the machine Oliver bought me, but I can’t make specialty ones like the café does. Right now, caffeine and sugar are two must haves to get me through the day.
It could be the lack of sleep, or the way I tried—and failed—sorting through my feelings for David, but my gut told me today would be a bad day. When I got to the counter to order a caramel iced coffee and chocolate scone, they told me there were no scones left. Then I spilled my coffee on my shirt when I bumped into some guy in a suit, splattering coffee on his expensive looking shoes and got a dark glare as I offered him napkins.
They say bad things happen in threes.
Walking outside into the warm summer air with my coffee in hand, I stop when I see a familiar face shoving at the door of Painter’s Choice. It’s locked because it doesn’t open for another hour and a half, and Melanie won’t be there for at least another thirty minutes to set up.
But Isabel Allen is on a mission. She must sense me watching her, because her head turns and her dark hair swings around her from the abrupt movement. When she captures my eyes, it only takes one look for me to know that something very bad is about to happen. She struts over to where I’m frozen in front of Landmark Café and faces me with such venom in her eyes that I can feel the poison seep into my veins.
Her eyes drift downward at something, and I wonder if it’s at the coffee stain dousing my shirt, before a sudden pinching sensation tingles at the back of my neck. She lifts her hand, now clenching my charm necklace, and flares her nostrils when she sees the heart dangling next to the one that has sat lonely for over nine years.
Flinching back when she shoves the necklace in my face, my heart doubles in speed because her face tells me that she knows everything. The coffee I’m holding nearly slips again, so I clench onto it a little too tight until cool liquid slides down my hand. It’s sticky and gross but I don’t dare move right now.
“You know what, River?” She growls my name so loudly that people down the street turn to see what the ruckus is about. “I used to think that you were a threat when we were younger because you had the poor fucking orphan girl routine and Everett wrapped around your finger because of it. But he told me I had nothing to worry about, and you know what? I believed him. I believed him because you were fourteen and he was almost eighteen and getting ready to leave the state for bigger and better things. My hatred for you went away when he picked me and stayed with me.”
She throws the necklace on the ground with all the force she has, and I half expect her to take her pointy heel and smash it into pieces. “I should have known that the feelings he had for you, the need to protect little innocent, naive River, would change over the years. But you know what? I never, never would have thought that you of all people would be willing to ruin a fucking family when you never had one for so long. I guess I really am as stupid as you must think, huh? I let my guard down, asked you for help with my relationship, and you were fucking him all along, weren’t you?”
“I-I-Isabel, I—”
Her palm strikes me faster than I can blink, and I stumble back from the stinging blow. Dizziness sweeps my vision as I cradle my cheek with my free hand, blinking past the blurry tears forming in my eyes.
Someone gasps from the crowd surrounding us, but I don’t move or try to defend myself. I’ve taken harder blows, and this is the only one I’ve ever deserved.
“Don’t you dare lie to me!” she hisses, pointing toward the necklace still laying discarded between us on the sidewalk. “My uncle is the jeweler at the shop Everett buys those charms from. He custom makes them. And when he saw Everett shopping, Everett told him it was for someone special. The joke is on me though, isn’t it? I waited and waited for him to show me what he bought, even thought it was a stupid engagement ring. When I found the receipt for less than a ring would cost, I knew I would have nothing to show for it. Uncle Donny told me it was a charm he got, not a ring, and that was all I needed to know.”
Tears stream down my cheeks, not from the pain of her hit, but from the audience around us hearing our argument, witnessing the worst mistake I’ve ever made come to light.
Even her voice is getting shaky, and I realize there are tears in her eyes for a totally different reason than my guilt. She’s mourning. Angry. Destroyed. “He’s never at the firehouse when he says he is and lies about who he’s out to eat with like I’m not supposed to know. What the hell gives you the right, River? Huh?”
Shaking my head vehemently,
I try telling her the truth, how sorry I am, how there’s no reason that could make this better. But the words are stuck in my throat and that only makes her angrier.
When she waves her hand in the air, I see something flash on one of her fingers. A ring. A ring with a large diamond in the center that looks like it costs more than the entire art studio and apartment above it.
She sees what I’m looking at when a slow, sadistic smile spreads across her lips. “Oh, this little thing? I’m sure you’re surprised to see it, but maybe it’ll finally get the point across. You may have had my fiancé’s body, but you will never have anything more than that. He will always choose me. Do you know why, River?”
Speechless. The ring on her finger makes me speechless. I’m not sure why, because everyone expected this to be where their relationship would lead. But Everett’s waited so long that I honestly thought he would end it once and for all before he ever proposed.
“Because of the baby,” she whispers.
The …?
Nausea sweeps through me.
Everett is going to be a dad?
She steps up so close to me that I choke on her expensive perfume. “He didn’t tell you that either? I guess you never were much to him after all, were you? Guess he tricked us both.”
She laughs but it’s a dry, dull sound. “I don’t know why you think you’re the only one who deserves a free pass in life. We all have pasts that we want to change, pieces of our lives we want to escape from. You won the fucking lottery getting the James’. Some of us aren’t so lucky on the family we’re given, but at least this little scandal will put you in your place. Far away from the James family when they find out.”
Oh my God.
Isabel bends and picks up the necklace from the ground and shoves it into my aching chest. “Everett Tucker is my way out, don’t you get it? Without him and his money, I’m stuck under my father’s thumb. This necklace, the memories of you two, will be the only thing you have of him. Do you understand?”
Breathless, I nod. There are so many emotions waging through my body that I can’t quite figure out.
Her hand pushes off me, causing me to stumble backward into the brick wall and catch the silver chain in my hand.
With a flick of her wrist, she turns and glances over her shoulder. “Get ready, River. Your life in Bridgeport is never going to be the same.”
The crowd that’s gathered around our show parts for Isabel as she walks away from me. When she disappears, I’m left with gawking eyes, a sore cheek, and a necklace with a broken clasp … and a family that’s going to hate me forever.
31
Everett / 27
The news is everywhere by lunch, and I’m ready to go find River when Robert shows up at my office with his hands in his pockets and disappointment dulling his graying features.
Tensing where I stand behind my desk, I hold my breath and wait for his reaction. There’s no possibility of letting myself explain the situation, he’s probably heard the rumors by now. Many friends witnessed the confrontation first hand while they were grabbing breakfast on the way here. The moment they arrived back in the office, the hasty, judgmental comments and stares began.
It’s as though I’ve transported back in time to witness catty high school girls tearing everything to pieces.
He blows out a heavy breath. “I told you to treat her well, Everett. But I guess my advice the other day was too late, wasn’t it?”
My lips part to answer, but he shakes his head and walks away, the door to my office closing slowly behind him.
I sit back down and put my face in my palms.
32
River / 23
There’s a knock at the front door of my apartment, echoing in the dead silence surrounding me. I’ve been avoiding all contact with the outside world since Isabel confronted me yesterday morning. Shutting myself inside, taking time off work, closing myself in my guilt and sin and shame, is the only thing I can do.
“Sweetheart,” a soft, familiar voice calls from the other side of the door. A silent sob wracks my body at the sound of Bridgette’s voice. Tears fall harder down my face as I squeeze a pillow tighter to my chest.
Maybe if I squeeze hard enough, it’ll burst from the seams. It’s what I want to happen to me, because the emotions bloating and tugging on my insides makes me feel like I’m two seconds away from combusting.
Everything hurts. My eyes. My body. My heart. It hurts for Isabel and for my family. It doesn’t hurt for me, because I’m the maker of my own destruction.
I deserve this pain.
I accept this pain.
Another knock. “Baby, can you please open up for me? I need to make sure you’re okay.”
She wants to know I’m okay?
Knowing she doesn’t hate me, at least not completely, makes my bare feet glide toward the front door. Shakily, I unlatch the chain and undo the deadbolt before flicking the lock and finally revealing the woman behind it.
She normally looks put together, like the world can’t touch her. Today, her eyes are muddled with worry and something else, something bad, and her makeup-less face makes her look older than she really is. The corners of her eyes are wrinkled with exhaustion, and her lips are curved down in the type of frown that makes me realize just how heavy the consequences of my actions are.
A sob breaks loose inside of me; a sob for Bridgette, the woman who’s always happy and positive. It’s a sob for Robert, who is probably trying to rein in the havoc I’ve caused at the company.
Dropping the pillow that I helplessly held onto, I take one blurry look at Bridgette and completely shatter into millions of tiny pieces.
“Mom,” I rasp in a choked plea, falling into her open arms. “I made a mistake.”
Her arms instantly engulf me in a tight, warm embrace. Her own damp cheek rests on the top of my messy hair and she guides us inside and out of the cold draft created by the hallway air vent.
Her lips brush the crown of my skull, caressing my knotted hair as she says, “Oh, baby girl. You’re not the only one.”
Soaking her shoulder with my tears, I squeeze her tighter to ground myself. I need her, my mom, now more than ever.
She strokes her fingers through my hair and hushes me in comfort. “It’ll be okay, sweetie. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you’ll get through this. You’re strong.”
Another wrack of sobs escapes me. “I’m n-not though. I did something bad and I don’t know how to f-fix it.”
Drawing back, she uses the pads of her thumbs to swipe at my cheeks. Sympathy lingers in her glassy eyes. “River, you can’t fix something like this. I know you want to, I know you feel awful, but it happened.”
Lifting my arm and wiping the sleeve of my shirt at my cheeks, I try blinking away the remaining tears. “Do you hate me?”
Her eyes widen before she hugs me quickly again. “I could never hate you! And I know you probably think the worst right now, but Robert doesn’t either. He—your father—is just a bit … startled at the moment.”
Startled? That isn’t the word I was expecting her to say—disappointed, angry, and a slew of other adjectives, sure.
“He should hate me though.”
She guides us over to the couch, picking up the pillow I dropped and setting it in the corner of the cushions. “Sweetheart, we both love you so much. You are our miracle. Do you understand that? We tried to have more kids with no luck after Oliver, and as soon as Jill told us about you, it was like something clicked. You were the missing piece we needed to feel complete and nothing, nothing you do will ever ruin that for us.”
But how? How can I hate myself so much and get only love from people who I can ruin with this scandal? Isabel is right. What I’ve done doesn’t just impact her relationship with Everett. It risks everything Robert has built, his morals, his loyalties.
“I think you’re punishing yourself enough, don’t you?” she asks gently, holding my hand in between hers. She reaches into the purse I didn’t
see hanging from her other shoulder, producing a tissue from inside. Dabbing my eyes, she gives me a warm smile, a familiar one that I’ve seen thousands of times grace her elegant face. “I’m going to give you some motherly advice that I want you to truly think about, okay?”
Sniffing back tears, I give her a tiny nod as my only reply.
Once my face is dry, she sets the tissue down on her lap. “Bridgeport will always be your home. Robert and I will always greet you with open, loving arms. But maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you got away for a little while.” Seeing the stricken expression of my face, she quickly adds, “Not because we don’t want you around. We talked about it last night, and I truly think escaping for a little while will help you and Everett. You both need space, time to let the gossip cool down, before you face each other again.”
Staring at my lap, I absorb her suggestion. I always thought leaving Bridgeport would be running away from my problems, no matter how big or small. Bridgette could be right. Leaving for a little while could be exactly what I need to clear my conscience and free my soul. It would also give me time to figure out what I want, because every time I’ve tried before, I was suffocated with my decision.
“Do you love him, sweetie?” Her voice is quiet, curious, and maybe a little knowing. She’s watched me grow up, watched me blossom and change, so surely she’s watched me pine for Everett Tucker all these years.
Pining isn’t the same as loving though.
“Yes.”
Her hand squeezes mine again. “Then let him go until he can figure things out with Isabel. Distance makes the heart grow fonder. It did for your father and me, you know. We went to separate colleges on different sides of the country, and our love never dwindled. If it’s truly love, and I believe it is knowing that boy, then you will find your way back to each other.”
Swallowing back my rising emotions, I press my lips together. “I … I could ask Steph if I can stay with her and her boyfriend. She’s been trying to get me back to California ever since I left.”
