The Story of Us: A heart-wrenching story that will make you believe in true love

by Tara Sivec

  “I don’t want you worrying about me, Kat. I’ll be fine. It’s gonna take some time, but I’ll be fine. I hate that this letter is going to make things hard for you guys,” I explain, tossing the paper across the table angrily. “It’s bad enough you have to put up with me; now you gotta put up with this shit.”

  Kat’s eyes follow the letter as it skates across the top of the table before fluttering to a stop right before it falls off the other side.

  “Eli, we need to—”

  “Hon? You home?” Daniel calls from the front of the house, the sound of the door slamming closed behind him and his dress shoes smacking against the hardwood as he heads in our direction.

  I give him a confused look as he rushes into the kitchen, nods in my direction, and bends to give Kat a peck on the cheek.

  “Sorry I’m late. Damn meeting with an investor took a little longer than I thought it would,” he explains quickly, pulling his suit coat off and flinging it over the back of the empty chair next to Kat as he sits down. “Did you tell him yet?”

  He loosens his tie with one hand as he scoots his chair closer to Kat and slides his other arm over her shoulder, pulling her close to his side.

  Even though it pains me to know I wasn’t around to take care of my sister, at least the mix-up with my death provided them with a good nest egg they could both build on, and that gave me a little bit of comfort knowing I had helped her in some small way while being imprisoned for five years. Daniel did right by her, and I owe him everything for it. Having to sit here in their beautiful kitchen, with all new appliances, in their home that he worked so hard to give her and discuss that damn letter is not what I want to be doing right now.

  “You didn’t have to leave work early for this shit,” I tell him, jerking my head in the direction of the letter. “I’ve already put in a few inquiries about work, so I should be hearing back from someone this week. That money was yours, free and clear, and I’m going to handle it. This isn’t your problem, so don’t even worry yourselves about it.”

  When I was declared dead by the U.S. government, my military life insurance policy of $100,000 was immediately given to my next of kin. Even though they screwed up, they still aren’t going to let them keep that money now that I’m alive. I get it and I understand it, but that doesn’t make me any less pissed off that I have to give my sister and her husband one more thing to worry about. I don’t know what they did with that money, and I don’t give a fuck. Maybe they used it to buy this house, maybe they used it to buy the small clothing boutique my sister owns and runs downtown, or maybe they put it toward the three other stores she opened up throughout the state. When Daniel and I had our little talk the other night, he let it slip that a few years ago, my sister almost lost her business and he almost lost his job because of some tax fraud bullshit. He reassured me it wasn’t a big deal and that the problems went away in a few days, so maybe they used the money for that…it doesn’t matter, as long as they used it. It was theirs to do with as they wished, and now having to ask for it back isn’t something I have any intentions of doing, even if I have to take the rest of my life paying it off. It’s my problem, and I’ll handle it.

  “You didn’t tell him?” Daniel asks Kat softly.

  She shakes her head and gives him a small smile. “You know I don’t understand all that financial crap you go on and on about all the time. I figured I’d wait for you to tell him.”

  My eyes narrow as I look back and forth between them and they turn their heads at the same time and smile at me. I don’t like the way they’re looking at me, like they have a secret they can barely handle keeping quiet about. Kat is practically bouncing in her seat at this point, and I can hear her bare foot smacking against the floor under the table in excitement. And I call bullshit on her not understanding “financial crap,” since she singlehandedly takes care of the accounting and the books for all of her clothing stores.

  “You’re not paying it back,” I tell them through clenched teeth. “It’s my problem, and I’ll handle it.”

  Daniel laughs and shakes his head at me. “You’re right, we aren’t paying it back, you are.”

  Finally, we’re on the same page.

  “And you’re not going to have to bust your ass working a shitty job for years to do that,” Daniel goes on to explain.

  “We never spent the money,” Kat quickly adds.

  My hands clench into fists on top of the table, and Daniel, noticing that I’m starting to get a little pissed off, continues with his explanation before I blow a gasket.

  “You know your sister, man. Do you honestly think she would touch one cent of that money, thinking you lost your life for it?” Daniel asks quietly.

  “Dammit, Kat!” I shout. “It was yours. Yours to spend, yours to save for a rainy day, yours to do whatever the fuck you wanted to do with it! I don’t care if you still have it in your damn bank account, you’re not giving it back. It. Is. YOURS.”

  Kat shakes her head at me, tears pooling in her eyes. “Daniel’s right, Eli. That money made me sick. I couldn’t even touch the stupid check when it came in the mail. The things you did, the things you went through…it wasn’t my money to do anything with and you know it. You earned that money, and now I’m thankful I didn’t want anything to do with it. I’m thankful I have a smart husband who knew what to do with it, and Eli, you’re going to be pretty thankful, too. You took care of me when Mom and Dad died. Hell, you took care of me all our lives, even before they died. You worked two jobs to keep a roof over my head and put me through college. Now, it’s my turn to take care of you, so shut the hell up.”

  Daniel moves his arm from around Kat’s shoulders and leans down to the side of his chair, pulling up a briefcase I didn’t even notice he walked in with. He smacks the leather case on top of the table and flips the two snaps by the handle, lifting the lid and pulling out a manila folder. Sliding the folder across the table to me, he leans back in his chair and puts his arm back around his wife’s shoulders, both of them staring at me with those damn matching smiles.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t use that money, and of course I took care of you. You’re my family. That was my job,” I mutter, snatching the folder and pulling it closer. “What is this?”

  Opening the folder, I see a pile of bank statements inside, each one in my name. Glancing down to the bottom of the top statement, my mouth drops open and my eyes widen in shock.

  “What the fuck,” I whisper, my eyes glued to the balance of the account.

  “My husband is a very smart man, Eli,” Kat informs me with pride in her voice. “And now you’re a very rich man.”

  Sliding the top piece of paper aside, I move on to the next one, another account in my name with another balance that makes my head spin.

  “I repeat. What. The. Fuck?”

  Daniel laughs, and when I get through all the papers in the folder, each one for a different account with more money in it than the previous one, I finally look up.

  “What can I say? I’m good at my job,” Daniel tells me easily. “I invested your life insurance money, and since we never had any intentions of using it, and never thought in a million years you’d suddenly show up again, I took a lot of risks I wouldn’t normally take with a client. I know you’re pissed, but get over it and see it from my point of view. I take care of my own, Eli. I know she’s your sister, but she’s my wife. I can provide for her and our daughter just fine, and even if I couldn’t, her clothing stores more than make up for that. We didn’t need your money. I’m grateful the money was there, in case something happened, but it didn’t, and now it’s all yours and then some.”

  And then some is right. One minute I’m worried about getting a job, any fucking job, just to be able to at least pay my sister back for the food she’s provided and the clothes she’s bought, and now I find out I’m a goddamn millionaire.

  Yeah, I definitely like Daniel Evans.

  “So, how about dinner tonight to celebrate? We can go som
ewhere nice, get dressed up, and Eli can treat,” Kat announces with a laugh.

  I laugh right along with her, feeling lighter than I have since I got home, my eyes unable to move away from the stack of paperwork in front of me as I continue to flip back and forth through the papers. Not only can I pay the government back in full, but I don’t have to worry about getting a job for a very long time. I can buy my own place, do whatever I want, and have one less thing hanging over my head to worry about.

  “Can’t tonight, babe. I’ve got that stupid charity function at the Eubanks Plantation,” Daniel reminds her.

  My head jerks up from the paperwork at the mention of the plantation.

  “Damn, that’s right. I forgot you were invited to that thing,” Kat sighs.

  “What charity function?” I ask, feigning nonchalance.

  “Honestly, I have no idea. There’s always something going on at that house, and since half of my clients go to these things, I always wind up getting invited,” Daniel tells me. “And since kissing ass is part of my job description, I go. At least I usually get a few new prospective clients out of it, so there’s that.”

  The conversation Rylan and I had when he followed me out the door this morning, and annoyed the shit out of me during my run, flashes through my mind. Rylan is the only person in my life who knew about Shelby and what she meant to me. He knew it when it happened six years ago, and he had to listen to me talk about it all through our deployment and when we had moments of peace in the five years of hell after. He knew how I felt about her, he knew she was the one thing that kept me alive, and he knew as soon as he saw me chucking candles into the garbage can this morning, cursing and kicking the shit out of the damn thing, that our first meeting didn’t go as planned.

  “You’ve been out of her life for six years. You have no idea what she went through or what’s gone on in her life during that time. You say you love her, carried this torch for her all these years, then man the fuck up and do something about it. Make her talk to you, find out what the hell is going on and stop being a pussy.”

  A few hours ago, I had no intention of going back to her. Not after I’d seen what she’d become, knowing all the guilt I felt over the way I left her and the reasons why I left her were all for nothing. I gave up everything to keep her safe, and almost gave up my life because of my involvement with her. Before last night, every minute of my time away from her had been worth it when I’d thought she was happy and following her dreams. Even if that whole scene in the barn never happened and I was still oblivious to the woman she’d turned into, I was still plagued with doubts about finding her again, knowing I had nothing to offer her. Being a broken man living with his sister and with no clue what the hell he was going to do with his life isn’t exactly a position of strength. Now I can walk into that room, with her rich-ass friends and her mother’s rich-ass supporters, hold my head high, and not be ashamed and feel like I have a right to be there. A part of me wanted to walk away and never look back after my first encounter with Shelby out at the stables. I was hurt and pissed that something I’d been holding on to for so many years was gone, and it made me wonder if it had ever been there to begin with.

  I’m still hurt, and I’m still pissed, but I’ll be damned if I just walk away without making her talk to me and tell me what the hell happened. I need to see that my Shelby is still in there somewhere, and I don’t give a shit if I have to do it in front of all of Charleston. Bonus points for also being able to rub it in Georgia’s face and let her see that I’m back, and I’m not going anywhere. Her days of bullying and blackmailing me are over.

  “How about you let me be your plus-one?” I ask Daniel. “I’ll even let you dress me up in one of your monkey suits.”

  Daniel laughs. “I hate to break it to you, but it’s black tie. Which means you’re going to need a tux, my friend. Good thing I have an excellent tailor always on standby and you have enough money to buy something that fits you better than anything in my closet.”

  While Kat rushes out of the room to get my niece when she starts crying from her afternoon nap, Daniel calls the office and takes the rest of the day off, then immediately places a call to his tailor to book us an emergency appointment for within the hour. As all of this takes place, I wonder if this is the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, walking into the lion’s den and facing Georgia Eubanks on her turf. I tell myself I’m not a hypocrite for having more confidence now to face Shelby again, knowing damn well that having a few extra zeros behind the balance of my bank account doesn’t make me a better man. All this money does is give me access to her world, a place where I’d never been welcome before. A place where I can confront her on equal footing and prove that everything she said to me in the stables was complete bullshit.

  It’s also a place where I can show Georgia Eubanks once and for all that I’m not backing down, and there’s not a damn thing she can do to keep me away from Shelby now, especially in front of all her people. With a thumbs-up from Daniel as he speaks to his tailor, at least I know I’ll look damn good when it happens.

  Chapter 7

  Shelby

  Dr. Eugene Stanford, and his wife, Maribell. Large plastic surgery practice in Charleston. Donated two hundred and fifty thousand to the Leatherback Turtle Endangered Species event last year,” I say softly in my mother’s ear before pulling back and pasting a smile on my face as the couple moves forward in the reception line.

  “Dr. Stanford, Maribell, so nice to see you again,” my mother tells them with a bright smile, shaking both of their hands and expertly using the information I just fed to her. “Thank you so much for coming this evening.”

  I glance behind them in line to prepare myself for the next guest while they chitchat about the charity event, ironically being held for wounded veterans. Ironic because the one wounded vet that should be at this event would never be important or wealthy enough to be added to my mother’s guest list. And it’s not like I want him here, especially after our confrontation last night and how much it drained me to be in his arms one minute, and have to pull away from him the next. To see the disappointment and anger in his eyes and feel the sharp sting of his accusations, cutting deeper than any knife possibly could.

  Rubbing the watchband on the inside of my wrist, I know I deserved every insult he threw at me, but that doesn’t make the hurt go away. It doesn’t help me rest easy at night knowing he’s sleeping just a few short miles away and I can’t go to him, can’t touch him, can’t kiss him, and can’t tell him why.

  A man in a crisp white Navy uniform, walking with a cane, moves forward in line as my mother says her good-byes to the doctor and his wife. I’m spending an evening in a room filled with military personnel and it’s the worst form of torture. I’ve seen at least a dozen men in Marine dress blues come through this line tonight, and each one reminds me of Eli and the one time I got to see him in his uniform. He had just come home from a funeral for the wife of one of his commanding officers. Even though it was a somber event, his face lit up as soon as he let me into his apartment and that uniform was quickly ripped away by my own hands.

  Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I lean forward, closer to my mother’s ear once more and speak quietly.

  “Lieutenant Anthony Michaels, son of Virginia state senator Brandon Michaels. Wounded in Afghanistan six months ago,” I inform her as Anthony moves forward and my mother kisses both of his cheeks and thanks him for his service.

  Running my hands down the front of my dress, I glance at the soft fabric covering my body. It’s a Versace gown the color of emerald green and perfectly matches my eyes. The soft jersey material clings to every curve of my body and drapes around the floor at my feet, a slit up the side showcasing one long leg—the good one, of course. It only has one strap over my shoulder, held together with a gold filigree broach, leaving my other shoulder completely bare. It’s a beautiful dress and it fits me like a glove, but I saw this dress on the runway a few months ago. I know the original style of this dr
ess was intended to be cut short, several inches above the knee. I know my mother had her stylist send it to get altered, because God forbid I ever show myself and my scarred leg in public, around people who respect her.

  “No one likes to be reminded of tragedy, Shelby. These people see enough ugliness in their lives.”

  The only concession I made tonight was refusing to put my hair in a fancy updo. It took fifteen minutes of arguing with my mother’s stylist before she finally gave up, left the room, and I petulantly curled my long, strawberry blond hair into soft waves framing my face and hanging halfway down my back.

  Brushing my hair back over my bare shoulder, my smile quickly dies from my face when I realize it’s more than a little pathetic that my hair is the only form of rebellion I’m brave enough to fight for tonight. I’m here at this charity function, held at my family plantation, because I was told to be. I’m wearing this floor-length Versace dress because it was chosen for me. I’m whispering in my mother’s ear because it’s the job I was forced to take. I feel like my mother’s doll. One she dresses up in a pretty package to hide the truth on the inside.

  “Have I told you lately how hot your ass looks in that dress?”

  I smile, barely containing an unladylike giggle as I step away from my mother’s side while she’s busy talking, to turn and look at Meredith. Unlike me, Meredith is wearing whatever the hell she wants, her curvy body showcased in a tight red halter-style dress with a deep vee in the front showing off a generous amount of cleavage that have most of the men in this room tripping over their own feet when she walks by.

  My mother shoots a quick, annoyed look at the two of us over her shoulder and Meredith raises her champagne glass in the air toward her in a silent toast, giving her a huge, fake smile.

  “Let me guess, she’s still pissed I helped you move out into the guest house today?” Meredith asks out of the corner of her mouth, bringing the crystal flute to her lips and taking a sip.