The Choices We Make

by Barbara C. Doyle

  “But Dad wants to see him,” Tess argues in exasperation. “And Ollie may not like it, but we need to keep trying. He needs his exercise. The vet said he’s gained too much weight lately.”

  At second look, the cat is pretty big.

  “Well maybe he wouldn’t be overweight if someone didn’t feed him extra treats every night,” Will retorts, eyeing Tessa.

  She feigns innocence. “I know nothing of what you speak.” She grabs ahold of her cat and passes him his coffee. “Plus, you have no right to talk. I’ve seen you slip him catnip.”

  “Which he doesn’t even eat,” he grumbles, pulling out money from his pocket and mumbling about how weird her cat is. He passes it to me and tells me to keep the change. I slip the remaining amount in the tip jar, even though Roy will just give it to me anyway.

  I watch them banter with a small smile on my face. Most people would probably be envious of what they have. They bicker and tease each other, but it’s so obvious that their love is the real deal.

  Blinking, I cross my arms on my chest. “So, when are you two finally getting married?” I ask, looking between them. It’s probably a random question, but it’s one that plenty of townspeople have been wondering about.

  They’ve been dating for almost two years now, and around here that’s practically a lifetime. And not that I’d tell them, but there’s a bet going around about when Will is going finally pop the question, and the pot is high.

  Tessa’s face reddens as she giggles nervously. “Oh, we don’t know. I mean it’s not that we haven’t thought about it. Life got in the way, you know? Well, of course you know. With Addison and all that.” She cringes at her own babble. “Anyway, I wanted to wait until I got out of school and had a better job.”

  Makes sense. “And you run your own PR business, don’t you?” Aka, So what’s stopping you? I may or may not have put some money into the pot.

  “Well … yeah.” She sneaks a peek at Will, as if she’s worried the conversation will chase him off. But it’s clear to everyone that she’s stuck with him for life, so she has nothing to worry about.

  Will chuckles over Tess’s expression, kissing the top of her head. Her body eases into his, and her focus goes to Ollie in her arms. He seems more content being fussed over now that he isn’t outside.

  While she tends to Ollie, Will looks at me. “I think we’ll know when the time is right for a wedding,” he tells me, although the gleam in his eyes and quirk to his lips tells me that he already knows exactly when it’s happening.

  In fact, he probably has a ring in his pocket as we speak. But Will has always been a romantic, and I have a feeling he’ll be planning something special for when he asks Tessa to marry him.

  Tessa nods in agreement, oblivious to the look on her future husband’s face.

  Will nudges her shoulder. “Why don’t you take him outside before he has an accident in here? I think I’ll grab some doughnuts to bring over to Bash’s house.”

  She complies, waving goodbye, and leaves the café with her cat in tow. When it’s just Will and me, I turn suspiciously.

  “You’re totally going to ask her to marry you,” I say, crossing my arms on my chest. “I am not putting the ring in a pasty if that’s what this is about.”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m training her cat to wear a collar, so I can attach the ring to it. I’m planning a mini vacation away from here so it’s just us.”

  I put an assortment of pastries in a bag for him as my heart melts. “That’s sweet that you want to include her cat.”

  He smiles. “He’s her baby.”

  I pass him the bag and wave him off when he passes me more money.

  “On the house,” I tell him. “Consider it an early engagement present from me.”

  He accepts the bags and eyes me with a smirk on his face. “You’re in on the bet, aren’t you?”

  I grimace. “Um … no?”

  He snickers. “I expect some of that money. Knowing this town, there’s probably a big jackpot.”

  We smile at each other knowingly as he says goodbye, and I watch their silhouettes fade down the street.

  Roy comes out of the backroom with a fresh tray of pastries. “He better pop the question soon. I’ve got fifty bucks resting on him proposing before Christmas, but Marty insists that he’ll join the cliché club and do it the day of.”

  My face screws. “I don’t think he will. He’s got more originality than that.” I think about it for a minute. “What is with you and Marty always trying to outdo each other?”

  He chuckles, placing the desserts inside the glass display case. “I guess it’s true what they say. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks. We’ve always been like this.”

  I cross my arms on my chest. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact you’re related, does it?”

  He winks. “Can’t have my little brother beat me at everything, now can I?’

  I shake my head and serve the next customer in line. After checking in with Kennedy, I try focusing on the last hour of my shift. Just when I think it’ll fly by, Bash struts through the door.

  I fight a frown as he checks out our old hangout, probably seeing the lack of changes. Roy and I touched up the paint two years ago, but besides that everything has remained the same since he left. Even the menu has gone untouched.

  He stops at the counter. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Well since I work here …” I drone.

  He just shrugs. “I was in the mood for coffee.”

  “You have a coffee maker at home.”

  A small smile tips at his lips. “Did I say coffee? I meant hot chocolate. I don’t have any of that at my house.”

  There’s probably a reason for that. He’s never been a fan of hot chocolate. In fact, my obsession over chocolate never rubbed off on him no matter how hard I tried.

  “Hot chocolate, huh?” I doubt.

  He knows I’m on to him.

  “I mean, if you have coffee left, I’ll take some. But if you don’t …” He trails off, taking a seat at the stool in front of me.

  “We obviously have coffee, Bash,” I reply slowly, gesturing toward the full pots on display behind me. Anyone who walks in can see it.

  He flushes, rubbing his jaw. “I’m not here for the coffee.”

  I gasp in feign shock. “What? Now that’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming.” I grab a to-go cup before he tells me he wants to stay awhile, filling it with black coffee, just like he likes it. No milk or sugar.

  I slap a top on and slide it to him. “That’ll be two dollars, please.”

  He stares down at the cup, then slowly drags his focus back to me. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to kick me out.”

  I refrain from rolling my eyes. “You’re quite the observant mastermind today, aren’t you?”

  He smirks. “And you’re sassy.” He reaches in his pocket and puts a twenty down. “I like it, for what it’s worth.”

  What it’s worth isn’t much, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I break the bill and give him his change, which he refuses to take.

  “Keep it.”

  I blanch at the money. “Your coffee was two dollars, Sebastian.”

  “And I’m telling you to keep the remaining eighteen,” he replies. “It’s a tip. You work hard.”

  Jaw ticking, I put the money in front of him. “I don’t want, nor do I need, your pity money. And for all you know I’m a lazy worker. I may not even deserve that.”

  He eyes me. “You’ve never been a lazy person, Opal. You’re forgetting I’ve known you for a long time now.”

  I bite down the reminder that a lot has changed between us—that we’re two different people compared to our high school days. But he doesn’t need me to tell him that. He knows.

  He pushes the money back to me. “Just take it. It’s not pity money. It’s not a bribe. It’s just money.”

  Not feeling up to fighting, I put it into the tip jar.
That seems to appease Bash, but he stays in his seat. I hoped he’d get the hint and go, even when I start cleaning the back counter and tend to a few people to make sure they don’t need refills.

  He watches my every move.

  Finally, I sigh. “We’re probably going to get really busy in here soon, so we’ll need the seating. If you’re all set …”

  He looks around the practically empty room, before chuckling. “I’m not set, and I doubt my staying will harm business. Plus, we made a deal that you’d catch me up. What’s your one truth of the day?”

  He meant that? He waited patiently for me to answer, propping his elbow on the counter and resting his chin on his palm.

  “Uh …” Taken by surprise, I try digging one up. Something not too personal.

  But my brain can’t muster up anything. Six years is a lot of time to sort through. It’s not easy to pick out the key pieces, because everything that’s happened revolves around Addison.

  Instead I ask, “What ever happened to the letters you said that you wrote me?”

  He drums his fingers against the counter. “I did,” he states. “And I have them. But you’re not ready for them.”

  “What?”

  He nods. “I had my reasons for not sending them, Opal. Just like I had my reasons for leaving in the first place. You needed to finish high school and live out your dream in Cali. Hell, anywhere that made you happy. And you’re not ready for the things in those letters. For the truths, the feelings, any of it.”

  I want to be offended by that, but oddly I’m not. I understand why he won’t let me have them. Maybe even respect him for it. He wants to prove how much he cares, how much he feels, but he’s not giving me the very things that could do it.

  And that’s what it takes to give him my next truth. “I spent a lot of time trying to hate you. I thought of all the ways you hurt me, and how much you changed my life after you left. I don’t look into his eyes right away but force myself to, seeing the guilt in his brown orbs. He needs to hear this as much as I need to say it. “But I never could go through with it—with feeling that much darkness when it came to you, because deep down I knew you cared. That you had your reasons. I especially know how that feels now.”

  He cocks his head at that statement, but I don’t elaborate. Nodding for me to continue, I take a deep breath.

  I wet my bottom lip with the tip of my tongue. “I guess the truth is … I get it. And if you hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have found myself. I’m stronger now than I ever was back then, and it’s because of you.” Because of our daughter. “If anything, I should thank you for breaking up with me.”

  His lips twitch. “I’d rather you not.”

  I can’t help but smile. “Well regardless, I think it worked out for the better. We’ve grown from our past choices, and we’ve learned from our mistakes.”

  The way he studies me makes goosebumps pimple my arms, but I don’t break his stare. He stands up, grabbing his coffee, and asks, “But have we, Opal? Have we truly learned?”

  And as much as I want to say yes, I don’t know if I believe it yet.

  So, I let him walk out without an answer.

  ***

  My shift ends not long after Bash leaves, and I’m itching to hide upstairs. Part of me can’t help but wonder if I’m slowly chipping away all the ill feelings toward him. Like what I said was more than a realization to him, but to myself.

  By breaking me all those years ago, he allowed me to rebuild myself as well.

  “Hey, babes,” Ken calls as I walk through the door. I drop my keys on the counter and blow an exasperated breath. My feet are killing me and all I want is to soak in a bubble bath or sleep for days, but I know neither is realistic.

  Instead, I pad my way into the living room, bare feet to cool floor, seeing Addy fast asleep with her head propped on Kennedy’s lap.

  “How long as she been out?”

  Ken brushes her fingers through Addy’s brown waves. “Not long. Maybe twenty minutes? I gave her some cold medicine and popped in a movie. I swear she dropped as soon as her head hit my legs. Guess these thunder thighs are good for something.”

  I feel Addy’s forehead, frowning. “Is her temp still up?”

  “101 when I checked it an hour ago.”

  I press my lips together, debating on what to do. The last time she had a fever I overreacted and rushed her to the hospital. The doctors assured me that all first-time parents did, and that she’d be fine with medicine, fluids, and rest.

  “Hopefully the meds will help,” I relent.

  She pats the spot next to her, and I take the invite instantly, moaning when I sink into the plush cushion.

  “You look exhausted.”

  I prop my feet on the coffee table. “You have no clue. Thanks for watching, Addy. I needed the extra shift.”

  She leans her head on my shoulder. “No problem. You know I love the munchkin.” Our focus goes to the TV screen. She asks, “Do you think Elsa is a lesbian?”

  I giggle. “What?”

  She shrugs. “You know, the Ice Queen. Ms. Let It Go seems like she needs to blow off some steam, yet nobody seems to do it for her.”

  I roll my eyes. “Because her focus is on her sister marrying some guy two seconds after meeting him.”

  She ignores that. “I bet she’d be good with Belle.”

  My eyes pop. “You’re crazy. Belle has the beast—the prince.”

  Ken shudders. “Yeah, an animal. I get wanting a beast in the bed, but she took it too far.” She pauses, indecision pinching her brows together. “I take it back. Mulan. She should totally hook up with Mulan.”

  I snort. “She’s taken too. And why her anyway?”

  She looks at me. “Um, are you forgetting the cross-dressing aspect of the movie? She literally pretended to be a man.”

  I blink. “To save her father!”

  She doesn’t look convinced. “I think she got a thrill from it. And she—” She points toward the screen. “—would probably like it, too.”

  My nose scrunches. “Wouldn’t Elsa be straight for liking Mulan in drag then?”

  “She’s still a girl,” Ken retorts.

  “You confuse me.” We watch Frozen in silence for about five minutes before I blurt, “I saw Bash today.”

  Ken pauses the movie and shifts to look at me. “How’d that go?” Her concern touches me, but I’m not going to break as easily as she thinks.

  I lick my bottom lip. “About as well as to be expected. He got coffee. Paid. Tried talking to me like we were buddies. Then he left.”

  She laughs doubtfully. “Which means he pestered you until he got a reaction, then paid for his coffee, then pestered you some more before leaving.”

  How does she always know?

  She taps her head, reading my mind. “It’s a skill, babes. You should know this stuff by now. How long have we been friends? I mean, really.” She scoffs in mock offense. “Anyway, I know you. And I know Bash. He wouldn’t just come in and not try talking to you.”

  I just shrug.

  “Hey, don’t shut me out. What’d he say?”

  “That he was sorry. That he cared.” I gave her the CliffNotes version of our conversation.

  She shifts again, careful not to disturb Addy. “You’re going to tell him about Addison? Give him a chance with her?”

  I let my head fall against the couch. It’d be easier if he knew about her, but what easy way is there to break that kind of news?

  “Yeah. But it’ll take some time.”

  I can’t just blurt out the truth over coffee. Just like I couldn’t pick up the phone and tell him in the last six years. Somethings just needed to be said in person, and some secrets are harder to tell. No matter how much time has passed.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. “It’ll kill him. He’ll hate me.”

  And maybe it’s better he does, so he’ll finally let go. Behind the layer of brown, I saw his expectations for us. None of them realistic.


  Kennedy touches my arm. “No, he won’t. Bash … he could never hate you. He isn’t capable.”

  I blink. “He’s capable of a lot of things.”

  She nods in agreement. “But not with you. With you … he crumbles.” She stares off into nothingness for a second. Then murmurs, “He always crumbles.”

  And I wish I could argue.

  But I can’t.

  Once upon a time he was my kryptonite, but the longer he was gone the more determined I was in becoming immune. He wasn’t ready to do the same thing. Instead, he hung on to what could have been—what should have been, if only we were honest with each other back then.

  Should have.

  Those two words had the power to define us.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ken,” I admit, looking down at my daughter.

  She cracks a grin. “Oh, you’d crash and burn,” she teases half-heartedly. “It’s a good thing I wouldn’t let you shy away from me my first day.”

  I can’t help but smile. Even though it was years ago, it feels like yesterday.

  Mr. Wright had stopped mid-sentence about Jane Austen’s role in revolutionizing romanticism when the door to the classroom jerked open. I remember Kennedy walking in without a care that everybody was staring at her. Instead, she dominated the space in confidence, strolling to the front of the room.

  What had confused me was when she winked at me like she knew who I was before turning her attention to Mr. Wright, a big smile on her face. “I’m new. Sorry I’m late, got lost.”

  Mr. Wright was a good guy, always welcoming people and warming them up to class. He asked for her name, and she’d told him, then he directed her to find any free seat available. She’d chosen the one right next to me.

  When Mr. Wright rummaged through his desk, probably to find an assignment sheet like he’d given us earlier in the school year, Kennedy turned toward me.

  “I’m Ken. And you and I, Opal, are going to be friends. I know these things.”

  I was surprised at how direct she was but found myself slowly nodding. We were friends ever since.