Exodus

by Stewart , Kate

  Tessa rounds the corner, her focus back on the woman in the dressing room. “Let’s try a size up.” She turns in my direction. “Feel free to look arou—” She stops mid-step, mid-sentence when she spots me in the middle of her shop.

  “Hey, Tessa. Been a long time,” I smile, giving her a little wave a second before her eyes drop. She bites her lip before walking past me to a rack. When she finds the dress size she’s looking for, her eyes again lift to mine. “How are you, Cecelia?”

  I revive my smile, baffled by her initial greeting. Is she angry I left without a goodbye? It’s not like we were girlfriends. We never ventured out together.

  “I’m good. In town for a few weeks, and I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.”

  She dips her chin. “Good. Give me a second.”

  Maybe I expected too much, but her reaction was not at all what I hoped for. Rattling with uncertainty, I sort through a rack grabbing a few dresses in my size before she reappears. Her hair is a little longer, but she looks very much the same. Curvier in the hips but still a stunning blue-eyed blonde. She’s got a bit of color despite the winter temperatures. And before she saw me, she looked…happy. She approaches me, just a little shorter in stature, and addresses me with a lifeless tone.

  “So, who are we dressing you for today?”

  I frown. “Just me. I haven’t been back in ages, and I just really wanted to see you and stop by and pick up a few dresses. I love what you have in here. How is business?”

  “Business has been good for a really long time,” her words are laced with a little contempt. And I feel the stab as she eyes me. “You look…incredible.”

  “Thank you.” I almost want to make my reply a question because of the way she said it.

  “You always were gorgeous.” This is not a compliment.

  And I’m no longer hurt, I feel insulted. And I’m not as beat around the bush as I used to be. “Tessa, have I done something to—”

  “I’m ready, Tessa,” the lady calls from the small dressing room, exiting the door. “Come see what you think.”

  Tessa’s eyes roll over me before she tears them away. “Some people just don’t know when to give up,” she mutters, “I’ll be back.”

  Briefly, I consider taking cover before she does return. The last thing I need is another confrontation with someone I once considered a friend. But the way she’s regarding me, it’s as if I’m raining piss all over her parade.

  I pick out a few more dresses as Tessa checks the woman out. I step up to the counter with an armful, and she rings me up. It’s the diamond on her finger that draws my attention while she bags them, and then it dawns on me.

  Oh, Karma, you disloyal bitch.

  When I tried to play matchmaker with her and Tyler years ago, I’d been vetting her for the wrong man.

  “Tessa—”

  “Tyler wasn’t the one who walked in my shop after you left. It’s Roberts now,” she says, lifting biting blue eyes to mine. “We named our son Dominic. He’ll be four next week. Baily is two. We named her after his grandmother. But you never did get to meet her, did you?”

  Fighting the lump in my throat, I shake my head as Sean’s wife holds out her hand. “That’ll be one seventy-three.”

  Fumbling with my purse, I hand my card over as she cashes me out.

  “Tessa, I didn’t realize—”

  “I often wondered what I’d say to you if you ever came back here.” Her tone is no longer full of accusation, but curiosity as she walks around the counter with the bag in her hand. “I guess it shouldn’t matter that you got him first, only that he’s mine to keep.” There’s not a trace of fear or malice in her tone. She’s confident in her marriage.

  “I’m nothing but happy for you both.”

  I bite my lip as she hands me my bag. “You should grab another dress on your way out, on me. It’s the least I can do. After all, you’re the reason I have my family.”

  Emotions warring, I rip my eyes away. What can I say? There’s nothing to say. I feel more like an outsider than I ever have.

  Sean’s wife.

  She’s probably in on more secrets than I can possibly imagine. Speechless, bag in hand, I turn to leave, and she stops me by speaking up.

  “I’m sorry, Cecelia. You didn’t deserve that. But I just can’t look at you without thinking about the beginning.” She lets out a labored breath. “It took me a long time to get close to him. At one point, I almost gave up. And when I found out it was you who…” our eyes lock, “I guess I started to resent you a little and your place with him. All those days I dressed you…” she shakes her head as if clearing the memories and shrugs, but I feel the weight of the act. “Small towns can be a bitch, right? But that was a long time ago. I can’t fault you for being with him, can I?”

  Tears threaten as I look back at her and imagine her struggle to try and build something with a man who was closed off due to the loss of his best friend and the woman who he felt betrayed him.

  “I don’t know what to say.” Guilt eats me alive, and she gives me a solemn nod. I palm the handle on the door. “You have to know I’m no threat to you. I would never—”

  “He would never,” she corrects me confidently. “But, he’s not why you’re back.”

  She knows.

  She knows my history. And I could give her a number of reasons for my sudden appearance that has nothing to do with her husband, but she’s no fool, and she’s not out for blood.

  “Be careful, Cecelia. You know well not everything is what it seems to be.”

  It’s not a warning. These are words of caution from an old friend. She’s throwing me a bone, and I accept it. She’s not threatening me, but she clearly resents the fact that I’m here.

  And she’s not alone.

  I say the only thing I can as the winter wind whips at me from where I stand with the door partially open. “Take care, Tessa.”

  Heavily buzzing, I enter the dark, dank bar as a flood of memories come rushing back. Not much has changed. The floor littered with the same small round tables and cheap wooden chairs. The walls glow with a slew of neon signs. The only addition is a thinly carpeted stage and karaoke machine set up next to the jukebox.

  “Cecelia?”

  Behind the bar, Eddie stands scrutinizing me. I greet him with a smile as visions of the past swim in my head. “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley drifts from the jukebox as if welcoming me back to that time, in this place. The lyrics haunting, fitting, wrapping me up inside them as I sink back into the history I lived here.

  “Hey, Eddie.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he says as I approach the bar. “He won’t like it.”

  No question of who he is.

  “Yeah, well, I have an issue with management, and I think it’s time we settled it. I’ll have a Jack and Coke.”

  He slowly shakes his head while toweling off a pint glass.

  “You really aren’t going to serve me?” I blow out a breath of frustration. “Really, Eddie? I thought we were friends.” I should know better by now. I’m starting to go blind from the gleam of the ‘Scarlet A’ on my chest. I left Tessa’s dress shop feeling like the Whore of Babylon. From the reactions of the people I used to feel safest with, I’ve been reduced to nothing but an old hood groupie.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Cecelia,” he repeats.

  “Don’t worry. I brought my own.” I pull my half drained brown bottle from my purse and lift it for him to see.

  “You can’t bring that in here.”

  I pull out my wallet and place a hundred down. “Then give me one.”

  Reluctantly, he pulls a bottle of Jack and a glass up from behind the bar, and I slide the money over. He shakes his head, refusing it. “Thanks, Eddie.”

  “He’s going to have my nuts for this.”

  “But you’re good at keeping secrets, aren’t you?”

  He grunts, and I push the money toward him again. “Can I have some change?”

&nb
sp; He exchanges the bills in the cash drawer. And I take a few of the singles and stuff the rest in his tip jar. “Good to see you, too.”

  I lift the bottle and glass, and he stalks off to tend to a man perched at the bar while eyeing me with warning.

  A warning I ignore.

  I set my things at the table closest to the jukebox, tumbler in hand, and search through the endless music and pause when I see it.

  “Keep on Smilin’” by Wet Willie. The song Sean and I danced to in the street. I searched for it the day after the festival and kept it on repeat for days—reliving those short minutes we spent together before he left me without a word.

  And I’d just had a run-in with his wife.

  His beautiful wife, who he has two children with.

  I toss back a good amount of liquid, trying to extinguish one burn with another. Why in the hell do I have to be the one to pay the highest cost for our shared past?

  Because it’s the way it is.

  Because I’m the villain.

  Because I’m the one encroaching on the reality of now with my hang-ups over the past.

  I punch in the numbers and glance around the mostly empty bar, before shrugging off my blazer and taking my seat.

  When the music starts to play, my eyes instantly water.

  I can’t seek him out now, and I’m terrified to run into him. Terrified of what his reception will be. If it’s half as scalding as his beautiful wife’s, I don’t know if I’ll survive it. The floodwater that separated us years ago is now stale, murky, and unrecognizable. No way to wade through, no way to get around.

  I can’t go back there. I can’t move forward without my answers. I thumb my engagement ring and decide to box it in the morning. It’s going to be the most painful step to fully let go of my future—of Collin—before I make peace with the past. But that’s the order of things, and it’s time. I didn’t come back to drown. I came back in search of my kick. Lost in my thoughts, a masculine scent invades me before a familiar voice whispers in my ear.

  “Can I have this dance?”

  I turn my head, and my jaw drops when recognition kicks in. “Tyler?”

  “Hey, Cee,” he says softly, his eyes filled with warmth where he towers above me, his hands on the table. Stumbling back, I leap from my seat and lunge for him, he catches me easily, pulling me into a bear hug.

  I hug him so tight he coughs out a chuckle of surprise. “I almost didn’t recognize you in a suit.”

  “Hey, girl, hey,” he croons softly, tightening his hold.

  I pull away as his eyes glitter over me and tears sting my eyes.

  “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

  He grins. “You are ten times more lethal than when I met you. You are fucking beautiful, woman.”

  “Thank you,” I say, soaking him in. He’s got a scar on his chin now. It’s white, old. I run my finger along it. “What happened?”

  “Battle scars,” he says softly. And I wonder if it has anything to do with the last time I saw him, but I dare not ask. He shakes off his coat and takes a seat.

  “I can’t stay long.”

  “Drink?” I pour some of the whiskey into my glass and thrust it at him. I’m not above bribery for just a few minutes with an old friend.

  He takes the offered glass and tosses it back, eyeing me the whole time.

  “You know he’s coming, right?”

  “I don’t know that. He probably won’t bother. He’s refused me at every turn. All I want is a conversation, and he won’t even give me that.”

  “You being here is dangerous, Cee.”

  “My father is dead,” I whisper quietly. “It’s all over. I’ve signed over the company, and I’m here to tie up loose ends. Have another.” I pour and push the drink toward him.

  He smirks and accepts the whiskey. “Despite the growing population, this is still a small town. Your return is big news. You have a few people nervous.”

  “I’ve kept my mouth shut, and you damn well know it. I’m not here to spill hood secrets. I’m here to get answers.”

  “I know that, and you know that, but prying eyes don’t know that.” He lifts his chin, and I see a few of the men scattered around the bar eyeing us both. I meet their curious gazes one by one, unflinching and bring my eyes back to Tyler.

  “Oh, I’m aware. I just had a run-in with Mrs. Roberts.”

  He winces.

  “Yeah,” I say, sipping straight from the bottle. “It went a lot like that.”

  “And so you’re here because?”

  “A drink?”

  He lifts a brow.

  “Fine,” I say, tossing more whiskey back. “Maybe I’m here to pick a fight.”

  “Cecelia, he’s changed.”

  “We all have.”

  He slowly rotates his tumbler on the table. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to see you. But this won’t end well.”

  “Damnit,” I say, slamming the bottle down. “Fuck him. Okay? He’s not the only one who lost. Don’t you think I deserve answers?”

  “You know better than to look for those.”

  “Why? Why does he get to be the one to decide?”

  “You know why.”

  “I’m staying put.”

  He eyes me with concern. “Can I help?”

  I shake my head adamantly. “I deserve them from him. He’s the one who condemned me to hell.” I can hear the anger in my tone. “He owes me, and I’m not leaving without answers.” I swallow and shake my head. “I miss them,” I say, lifting another shot to my lips. “Being here has made me sentimental, and I’m well aware I’m not wanted, but the day you put me in my Jeep…” our exchange reflects the pain of the memory. “You’re in the know, but you can’t imagine how being in the dark feels after all this time.”

  Pure guilt shines in his eyes. “Things got too fucked up. We didn’t want it falling back on you.”

  “Don’t think for one minute I’m not grateful. You saved my life. Dominic…” I choke on his name. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I deserve answers.”

  “I guess I can’t argue with you,” he sighs. “But some things are better left in the past.”

  He lowers his gaze briefly as he continues to rotate his glass.

  “I was sorry to hear about Delphine.”

  He sobers considerably before he pulls the bottle out of my hand and refills his tumbler. “You gave me a gift when you brought me to her house that day.”

  I just wanted to thank you.

  His words from our run-in years ago, when Tobias and I were in the kitchen. Delphine is what he was thanking me for.

  “You got back together?”

  He nods. “We got nearly two years before she died in my arms. I can’t even tell you how much those years meant. She got sober, and she fought hard. It was the most blissful time of my life.” He swallows, his voice raw when he speaks. “But I won’t ever regret it. And it’s because of you that I had that time with her. She told me I healed her just before she passed,” his Adam’s apple bobs painfully. “She wasn’t afraid.”

  A tear slides down my cheek as he looks through me, somewhere in the past with her. “I’m so happy you got that.” I take the glass from him and pause it at my lips. “I want the same thing, you know? Some peace of mind after all that was lost.”

  “I’m pulling for you,” he says. “But just tread lightly.”

  “I’ve done that long enough,” I say defiantly.

  He stands and kisses me on the cheek. “Gotta run.”

  “No, please no, stay,” I beg. “I’ll buy you a bottle of your own. I’m a rich woman now. Did you hear?”

  He nods, pity lacing his gaze.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine.”

  “If you say so. Please, just be careful.”

  “I’m not afraid of him.”

  He flashes a boyish grin. “You’re still the same, insanely beautiful, smart-mouthed, hard-headed woman you were years ago.” />
  “You act like that’s a bad thing.”

  “I really have to go.”

  I stand and pull him to me. He wraps his arms around me, and I press off my toes and whisper in his ear. “I missed you too, ya know. When I left, I feel like I lost you, too.”

  “Same,” he whispers before releasing me.

  “Please stay. One more drink?”

  “I can’t. I’m flying out of Asheville in an hour.”

  “You don’t live here?”

  He shakes his head. “I haven’t in years.”

  Years. “Are you going to tell me what you’ve been up to?”

  “Little of this and that.”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t know why I asked.”

  “It’s always better if you don’t.”

  “I would say, don’t be a stranger, but I know better.” He pulls me into his hold one last time and releases me. “I wish you well, Tyler, be happy, okay?”

  “I’ve got your back, Cee. Always.”

  “I know.”

  He winks, and like most of the other men in my life, he disappears.

  I shake my emotion away, knowing I’m being watched. Pouring another shot, I wrap my hand around the glass lifting my middle finger, my intent for those prying eyes clear and swear I hear a chuckle come from a few of them. Another sip in, it becomes easier to ignore the watchful gazes of the men lining the bar.

  Minutes pass, and I kick back, rocking to my music, to Sean’s music, my limbs growing heavy with the buzz. Within the next few minutes, I’m digging through my purse, pulling out Sean’s Zippo. I flick it open and closed, eyeing the guy closest to me a table over.

  “Hey,” I say with a smile.

  He returns it. “Hey.”

  “Look, I know this might seem out of the blue, but would you happen to know where I can get a little weed?”

  He grins and lifts from his chair, his beer in hand, and walks the few feet over to get to me. “I may be able to help you,” he says, his eyes lighting as I scan his arm. No ink, and completely ignorant he’s just stepped in a ring of fire.