The Choices We Make

by Barbara C. Doyle

  “But funny,” Kennedy intervenes. “My personal favorite being ‘You don’t need Pizza Hut to be a Pizza Slut.’”

  Bash burst out laughing. “Somebody actually submitted that?”

  I nod. “You’ll never guess who it was.”

  “I know them?”

  Kennedy smacks his arm. “It’s Clinton, dummy. Everybody knows everybody.”

  I internally cringe. Well, not everybody.

  “Ryder Harding,” I tell him instead.

  He snorts. “Will’s little bro?”

  “The very one.”

  He chuckles. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “Neither were we,” Kennedy agrees, shrugging. Her stance changes as she ushers him away. “Anyway, we’ve got shopping to do and tampons to talk about. So, you best be going about your brooding man business.”

  “My brooding man business?” He laughs, walking toward the exit. “Fine, fine. I’ll meet you ladies at noon.”

  When he’s out of sight, Kennedy turns to me, crossing her arms on her chest. “Care to explain what that was about?”

  I go back to thrifting through clothes. “I’m not really sure. You know, Noah and I were talking about Bash last night—”

  “Hold up,” she stops me. “Considering you humped each other’s brains out as soon as he got home makes me squeamish to ask this but … when exactly did talking about your ex come up?”

  I cringe. “Um, before.”

  “And that led to sex somehow?”

  “It just happened,” I dismissed. “That’s not the point. You know what Noah told me before he left? He agrees that Bash should know about Addy, but last night he said he gets why I couldn’t go through with telling him. I need to ease him into it, you know? Butter him up before I destroy his life.”

  She stares at me for a long moment. “And you think that Sal’s pizza will be the lead in? It’s good food, but not really what I’d butter him up with.”

  “It’s not like I’m going to tell him about her today. That conversation needs to be had in private. And to do that, I have to be comfortable with him again. I can’t be comfortable around him unless I give him a chance.”

  She nods along in understanding. “I get that, babes. I do. But …” She sighs. “I don’t know. It’s a good idea, I guess.”

  She doesn’t sound convinced. “What are you really thinking?”

  She nibbles her lip. “Now that he’s here, things are going to be brought to light. He may not know the truth, but this town does. What if it slips out before you tell him yourself?”

  I drop the dress in my hands, frowning. “I doubt that’ll happen, Kenny. The town has kept this secret for six years. Why blurt it out now?”

  “Because he’s home.”

  I blink.

  My silence prods her to continue. “And, honestly, the town loves their happily ever after’s. The more they see you out and about, the more they’ll expect the prince to reunite with the princess. And their secret royal love child? Let’s be real, babes. Bash moving back here means so much more than you want to acknowledge. To the town, it isn’t just Addy’s chance to meet her father. It’s your chance to finally be a family.”

  I take a deep breath and let that soak in. Without my say, tears well in my eyes. Is that really what the town wanted? What they believed I wanted?

  “They’re wrong,” I croak, shaking my head.

  They’re all wrong.

  Everybody loves Noah. He’s a local just like Bash, and while he isn’t some wealthy rockstar, he’s made a name for himself too. He’s loved Addy and me, took on responsibility that wasn’t his to bare, and never once batted an eyelash.

  My heart stops.

  Is that what Noah thinks?

  I swallow past the lump in my throat.

  The bliss from last night is officially gone.

  My clammy hands take hold of the door handle as my eyes connect with familiar auburn hair. I’m five minutes late, even though I left nearly thirty minutes early to meet Opal and Kennedy for lunch.

  But as I walked around the block a second time, afraid of showing up too early and seeming eager, a group of girls stopped me for pictures and autographs. As much as I wanted to blow them off, I didn’t want to be rude.

  The worry over my tardiness disappears when I see the girls laughing over something that Sal is saying. He’s flipping dough in the air, catching it artfully, and winking at Ken.

  Seeing Opal makes me feel sixteen again, worried about every stitch of clothing and strand of hair. With so much time put between us, there’s a lot to say, but the amount that needs to be filtered out is alarming.

  When I finally get the courage to walk in I head towards them, slowing when I hear their hushed murmurs.

  “…telling him. It’s not happening,” Opal hisses at Kennedy.

  I slide into the booth, watching Opal pale as she clamps her lips together.

  What secret are you hiding Opal?

  “What’s not happening?” I ask, linking my fingers together on the table and glancing between them.

  Kennedy wads up a napkin and tosses it at my face. “Nothing, Superstar.” She leans back, looking at Opal from the corner of her eye before focusing back on me. “Anyway, you still boring about pizza, or did becoming rich change your tastes?”

  “Ken!” Opal chides.

  I smirk. “Well now that I have money, I can afford to put more toppings on my pizza.”

  There’s a whack upside the back of my head right before Sal appears at the end of the booth. He looks the same—bald head, round face, even rounder stomach. When he had hair, he used to be the perfect town Santa. Except everyone knew it was him because he smelled like pizza sauce.

  Crow’s feet wrinkle at the corner of his brown eyes as he casts them down at me. “Don’t think I can’t smell your bullshit from a mile away, boy.”

  Kennedy snorts, and Opal’s lips waver as though she’s fighting off a smile.

  “Good to see you too, Sal,” I greet.

  One of his white brows arches. “If you want a friendly greeting you’re shit out of luck, son. That went away when you and that annoying ass friend of yours stole Tony.”

  I chuckle. Tony is the statue that sits in the corner of the restaurant. Apparently, it’s his good luck charm. Even though it’s that same generic Italian chef dressed in checkered pants, white buttoned shirt, and white poufy hat. The one always carrying a pizza and has the world’s cheesiest mustache. You’ll see him in any pizzeria or Italian restaurant.

  Our senior year, Ian and I broke in and stole him. We left a ransom note for Sal, asking for free pizza for the rest of the year in trade for his precious statue back.

  Unfortunately, we didn’t account for the video tapes that the police got, or the officers who stopped by our houses the next day. Not only did we both get grounded, but we never got free pizza either. Sal got his prized statue back and celebrated the day Ian and I left town.

  “I see he’s in the window display now,” I muse, noting the padlock on it.

  Sal grumbles. “Damn kids keep trying to steal it ever since you numb-nuts tried. That’s the problem with kids—they’re so easily influenced. You get two hooligans who make a name for themselves, and everything they do becomes a legend.”

  I drum my fingers against the edge of the table soaking his words in. There’s no denying that we’re looked up to by the children in town, but never once did I think about it the way he stated.

  “Anyway, what will it be, Hot Shot?” he finally asks begrudgingly.

  “Uh, just a couple slices of pepperoni pizza.”

  He rolls his eyes at my usual order, heading into the back to get it started.

  “So much for not being boring,” Kennedy notes, sipping her water.

  “Compared to your nasty anchovy fetish?” I make a disgusted face, my nose scrunching.

  She scoffs. “Okay, Mr. Vanilla.”

  Opal watches us with a small smile gracing her lips. “You guys ha
ven’t changed, huh?”

  Kennedy sinks in her seat like that bothers her. Instead of dwelling on her reaction, I focus on Opal.

  “And what about us?”

  Her jaw ticks, not saying a word.

  I lean back, a frown pulling at my lips. “That good, huh?”

  “You know where we stand,” she murmurs, words wavering ever so slightly. Her uncertainty is peeking out.

  I tilt my head to study her. Part of her hair is tucked behind her ear, and the other is casting a shadow that eclipses her sullen expression. “Do I? I don’t think so. Honestly, Opal, I’m pretty sure you don’t either.”

  Her eyes pierce mine in challenge, and my lips twitch into a proud smile. My shy housecat turned into a fierce wild tiger in the past six years.

  But her lack of reply says that she can’t muster an excuse to deny it.

  Bash – 1. Opal – 0.

  “Thought so.” I take my time to look around the place, noting the pizza pun posters littering the walls. There are pictures of past winners from the pizza eating contests, newspaper clippings of when Sal’s opened, and a photo of Sal and the mayor from when he was awarded a plaque for his charity work. If memory serves me correctly, at the end of every quarter, Sal donates money to a different foundation around town.

  But there’s something hanging in the corner that catches my eye. “Is that …?”

  I get up and walk over to the handmade wooden frame, painted white and chipped at the edges. Inside the thick glass is a collage of pictures of Relentless at concerts and signing autographs. The first ones are all of us as baby-faced dreamers at our first concert. We opened for The Ready Heartbreak, a huge band at the time and has since broken up. The others were from concerts across the country, all of us showing just how much we grew up and perfected our craft as the crowds and venues grew.

  Sal comes over and stands beside me, the same stoic expression on his face. “I may not like you much, but that doesn’t mean I’m not proud of what you and the others have accomplished.”

  A swell of pride fills my chest.

  “Who took these?” I asked, turning to him.

  He gestured behind him. “Kennedy did.”

  My eyes widen. Kennedy had been to my concerts? There were at least five of them photographed, which made me wonder if she’d been to more.

  Slowly, I made my way over to the girls, eying Kennedy who’s purposefully playing with her wrapper.

  “You came,” I state.

  She blows out a breath and gives me a tiny nod. “Not to all of them.”

  “But you still went.” I shake my head in awe, emotion building inside of me.

  After what happened between Opal and me, I assumed Kennedy would never talk to me again. They were close, and when I left they only had each other. This whole time I thought neither of my best girl friends cared.

  But Ken went to my shows, watched me perform. Just like she did when we practiced in one of the guys’ garages. Back when we had limited talent, no real aspirations, and not a clue what was just around the corner for us.

  “Yeah. I did.”

  I reach over and squeeze her hand, causing her to look up at me. “Thanks, Kenny. I wish you would have told me. I would have loved to see you.”

  She bites her lip, glancing at Opal, who seems withdrawn from the conversation.

  “You guys had other fans to worry about,” is all she says, dropping the subject.

  Opal licks her bottom lip. “You guys can talk about it, Ken. It wasn’t like I didn’t know you were there.”

  Kennedy’s eyes snap to her. “What?”

  Opal rolls her eyes. “You have always loved their music. I caught on after the first few times you disappeared. You being busy, and Relentless being nearby? It was honestly easy to guess where you ran off to.”

  Kennedy seems stricken by this, which makes me laugh. “You tried hiding the fact you went to my concerts?”

  She throws up her hands. “It was complicated! You two were my best friends, and not being near both of you all the time sucked. But … circumstances made things weird to talk about, so I thought I had to.” She turns to Opal. “I really am sorry.”

  Opal waves it off. “Who do you think gave Sal the pictures, dummy?”

  We both stared at her.

  Kennedy stuttered, “You did?”

  Opal giggles, the soft sound wavering my own lips at the familiarity. “Your cousin said she’d take the blame once you found out, but I know you didn’t want me to know. Those pictures are amazing, Ken. They deserve to be shown off.”

  Kennedy just blinks at her.

  I watch Opal carefully. Those pictures were good—professional, even. But the nature of them made me analyze her motives.

  She takes me by surprise when she turns to me. “And you,” she says quietly. “We have a lot of history. Good and bad. But that was never going to get in the way of how much you deserve your success. I get why you left, Bash. It didn’t make it hurt any less, but I wanted you to be happy and live out your dreams. Just like you wanted the same for me. Being in Relentless, knowing what it meant to you, was why I never fought harder for us. It’s why I walked away that day without trying to convince you to stay.” She takes a deep breath. “That’s my truth for the day.”

  The day I walked away from her, the only girl I’ve ever loved, plays on a loop through my head. A memory so dark and painful, that if someone searched for it, they would have to dig into the deepest, most misery filled pits of my brain. Countless times I wished I could go back and change what I did. Explain my actions, talk to her about my line of thinking, do something, anything to make her understand. Just a chance to beg her to make me stay.

  But she hadn’t fought for me. She sat there in front of me with glassy eyes and let me break up with her. Break up with us. And when she walked away, I couldn’t decide if she even wanted me to follow.

  I laugh, but it’s empty. “We let our love define who we were. We let it make our biggest mistakes, didn’t we?”

  Opal draws in her bottom lip, nibbling it in consideration. “Yeah, I think we did.”

  Sal brings out our food then, dispersing the heavy conversation. I can feel the way Kennedy’s eyes linger between Opal and I like she’s trying to feel us out. But, like her, I have no clue what’s happening inside Opal’s head.

  If we’re letting the past go and moving on, or just living in the moment.

  Halfway through our meal, Kennedy and I begin arguing over whether KISS or ACDC was a better band. We’re only drawn away from the topic when Opal’s phone pings, drawing her attention to the screen. The friendly banter between the three of us stops immediately when her body freezes in place, her pizza dropping back down onto the paper plate.

  “Opal?” Kennedy asks in concern.

  “No,” Opal whispers. “No, no, no.”

  “Opal? What’s wrong?” The level of panic in Kennedy’s eyes has me on edge.

  “What’s going on?” I press.

  “Is Addison okay?” Kennedy rushes out.

  “Who is—”

  Opal is firing away on her phone but freezes when the shop door opens. She quickly looks behind her, bolting out of the booth just in time for a little girl to jump in her arms.

  Everything happens so fast but plays in slow motion in front of me. Noah Fuller walks in, smiling at Opal the same way I used to—with a hunger in his eyes that ignites his features. He saunters over, pecking her cheek and saying something in her ear before his attention shifts to us.

  And when he sees me … he pales.

  “Shit,” he murmurs.

  But my eyes … they’re locked on the little girl hanging on Opal. Noah was with the same little girl at the park. The same little girl he said wasn’t his.

  I assumed it was the kid of the woman he was with.

  And based on that look …

  “Holy fuck,” I rasp, gripping the edge of the table until I swear it cracks under me.

  “Bash,” Kennedy tries
reasoning.

  The little girl stares at me. “Mommy, he said a bad word.”

  Mommy.

  Slowly, so slowly, my gaze goes to Opal. When she’s in my line of sight, I see the guilt written across her face. And she doesn’t need to say a word, because seeing the color of the little girls’ eyes, the remorse on Opal’s face, and the protectiveness on Noah’s, I’m thrown into a reality consumed in flames.

  “Sebastian.” Opal’s voice cracks. “Please, let me explain.”

  “Sebastian?” the little girl pipes up. Her smiling eyes go to me, blinking. “My Daddy has the same name.”

  The room grows eerily silent. Nobody blinks. Nobody even so much as breathes. Not until I make the first move, sliding out of the booth until I’m standing in front of the tiny child.

  But staring at her hurts, because she looks so much like Opal. So much like me.

  Fists shaking so hard at my sides that I need to clench them, I glare at the woman I thought I could love unconditionally. Forever, with no exceptions. The person I thought I could trust.

  No longer did my eyes rake her over with love but burning anger.

  “What. The—” I don’t get the last word out before Noah steps between me and my daughter

  “Watch your mouth,” he growls under his breath.

  I’m itching to shove him away from me, but refrain when I see two round eyes watching.

  My fingers rake through my hair, pulling, as I back away from everyone.

  “I can’t …”

  Opal steps forward. “Bash—”

  “Don’t,” I growl. “Don’t you dare.”

  Tears fill her eyes, and Noah takes her hand, weaving their fingers together.

  Kennedy is now kneeling next to the little girl, brushing her hair and whispering something into her ear. The little girl giggles.

  She sounds like Opal.

  She looks like Opal.

  It’s all too much, and as I spin toward the door, my foot connects with one of the chairs I pass, knocking it over.

  Sal comes out to see what the ruckus is, calls my name, tells me to stop, but I can’t. I don’t give a shit. Not about him scolding me. Not about the liars watching my inevitable break.

  Fuck. That’s a lie.

  I fucking care too much.