by S. J. Bishop
“I don’t really know. I didn’t really worry. Whatever you were going to do, you were going to kick ass at it. Look at this place,” he said, looking around and giving me a view of that perfect, all-American, profile: face carved from marble, thick, dark brows, slightly dimpled chin… “How much of it did you renovate?”
The restaurant was a safe subject. “The boat bar,” I said. “The back dining room.”
“Looks good. You guys get a lot of business?”
“Yah, we’re doing really well.”
“Can I say that I’m happy for you?” He was smiling at me the way he used to smile at me. Everything was a joke to Ryan – he took nothing seriously but football. And then, all of a sudden he’d look at me, and I knew he was taking me seriously. I’d once been the only other thing in the world he’d taken seriously.
Trapped in his gaze, I felt like a fly caught on spider’s silk. I licked my lips.
“Can I take you out?” he asked softly. “I’d really like to take you out. To The Point. Remember the summer we worked there? Have you been back?”
“Once or twice.”
“I haven’t. I want to go. Will you go with me?”
So open, so easy. No games. He wanted me to go with him. And I wanted to go. Badly. And for all the wrong reasons. Goddamn it. This is what I get for never letting go, for keeping those damn yearbooks, for watching his games, and reading his interviews, and following his social media. He comes back into Serenity, and I’m putty in his hands.
“I’m not interested in rekindling an old flame,” I said. There.
I could see that my response surprised him. He’d expected me to agree to go. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Well, maybe I’m not either. Maybe I just wanted to catch up.”
I shrugged.
“I’m going. Tonight. I’m putting on a suit and tie, and I’m going to sit out by the water and wait for you. If you don’t come, I’ll sit out there, sad and lonely, looking like a prize idiot.” He smiled at me again and reached out a casual hand, grabbing mine up before I could draw it back. He reached down and pressed a warm kiss to the tops of my knuckles. “I hope you’ll be there tonight,” he said. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
And with that, he exited the restaurant.
Of all the bullshit emotional blackmail!
“Ohhhh, I know that look. Someone’s about to get it,” Adriana took up the space on the other side of the bar that Ryan had vacated. “That was him, wasn’t it?”
“Would you mind your business for once?!” I snapped.
“No can do,” said Adriana, tossing her dark curls out of her eyes. “Especially not when he looks like that. Holy fuck. He looks like he’d be fun in bed.”
I was not going to think about Ryan in bed.
“So, what did he want?” she asked. I sighed and told her.
“Girl! What the hell! He’s asking you out to The Point? Your inner high school cheerleader must be doing front flips!”
My stomach certainly was flipping.
“You should go!” Adriana pressed.
I pulled out my phone and hauled up Ryan’s Instagram. “Here,” I said, handing the phone to her. “Go ahead. Just scroll. And don’t forget to read the hashtags.”
Adriana scrolled through, the excitement in her face lessening with each caption she read. Ryan’s Instagram account was a laundry list of all the girls he’d ever fucked. Each photo was him with a new beauty and some gross caption like, #Igottafeelin #2nitesgonnabeagoodnite. Gross.
“So he’s easy,” she said. “When was the last time you had sex?”
“I’m not going to sleep with him.”
“Why on earth not!? I’ll watch Lea. Listen – who else better to get it on with than your ex whom you know is leaving town in a few days. You have to go out tonight and sleep with him! What would eighteen-year-old Courtney do? Revenge sex! Ride him hard, leave him wanting more, and then deny him!”
“God, you really were a loser in high school,” I muttered. “No one actually does that shit.”
“Well, I would if I had the chance. I would hop on his stick if I weren’t married…”
“I’m going to tell Brandon you said that.”
“You are not. You’re going to get over all your bullshit, and you’re going to meet that hottie at the Point, and you’re going to take him home, fuck him senseless, and throw him out on his ass! I’ll bring Lea to sleep over at my place tonight.”
“You’ll do no such thing.”
Adriana straightened and beamed at me. “You see if I don’t,” she said. “I’ll be over eight o’clock sharp. And I’m telling Lea. She’ll be packed and waiting to go, and if you back out on her, she’ll never forgive you.” And with that, Adriana straightened and sauntered away, tauntingly shaking her ample ass.
I watched her open the door to the porch and tell Lea about their sleepover. I watched my daughter light up and jump up and down. Shit.
6
Ryan
“Looking slick, brother. Where are you headed?”
“The Point,” I said, fastening my Rolex onto my wrist and smoothing the lapels on my Armani jacket. I clean up nice.
“Meeting up with some friends?”
“Meeting up with Courtney.”
Gabe was silent a moment, so I turned around and glanced at him. “Got something to say about that?”
Gabe stared at the floor, considering. Then he looked up. “I don’t know if you want to hear what I have to say.” Was he kidding? Why was he suddenly so serious?
“Gabe,” I said. “You look like Dad. Seriously. You’re giving me that fucking ‘Dad face’ he used to give me whenever I left the house.”
“I’m worried about you. When you broke up with Courtney, you left home and didn’t even speak to anyone for almost two years.”
I shrugged. “I wanted a clean break.”
Gabe pressed his lips together. “And now you’re back here, picking up where you left off?”
“Gabe. No offense, but what the fuck does this have to do with you?”
My brother crossed his arms over his chest. “Courtney’s not the only one you bailed on when you left, Brother. And that shit wasn’t easy. Mom left, and then, two years later, you left. And dad dragged me down to the Keys, where I had to finish high school with a whole bunch of people I didn’t know. That was terrible. I’m family, so I have to take you back and forgive you. But I can’t imagine Courtney’s going to appreciate you traipsing into her life and then traipsing out again.”
I glared at my brother. “What the hell, man? This is heavy shit. I’m just going out for drinks.”
Gabe was silent a moment, watching me. “You know what sucks?” he asked after a second.
No. I didn’t know what sucked, and I didn’t much feel like hearing about it.
“Being lonely,” said my brother. “It sucks.”
Fuck, Gabe. Hit me right in the gut, then.
“You know what makes it better?” he asked.
Would he just leave already?
“Sharing your life with someone. It’s hard, but it kills the loneliness. And it doesn’t have to be a lover. Who are your friends, Ryan?”
I refused to answer him if he was going to be a dick.
“I think Courtney’s the last person you ever let get close. I can’t help but feel like the reason you never even tried to make it work with someone is because of Mom…”
“Listen, Doctor Phil. If you don’t mind, I’m trying to get out of here…”
“Doesn’t he remind you of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast?” Ellie appeared in the doorway holding Katie, a burping cloth thrown over one shoulder. She’s cute, my brother’s wife. Short, curvy, and dark-haired. A bit oblivious, though. She was grinning at me and didn’t seem to realize that she’d interrupted what was about to be a killer argument.
“That’s not a comparison I’ve ever put together, no,” said Gabe, dryly.
“Where are you going looking so fancy?” asked Ellie.
“The Point?”
There were a few fancy restaurants in town, but The Point was known more for fancy cocktails than fancy dinners. It was a place where wealthy locals and snow birds went for drinks and hors d’oeuvres.
“Who are you meeting up with?” asked my sister-in-law, looking wistful. She and Gabe didn’t really get a chance to go out much anymore. I should probably volunteer to stay in one night and watch the baby.
“An old high school honey,” I said, trying to shake my brother’s words off. I turned away from the mirror and moved into the kitchen. Gabe and Ellie followed.
“Courtney Hart,” Gabe clarified for Ellie. “She’s the woman who owns The Mangroves.”
I blinked at Gabe. “You’ve been keeping track of her?”
“I’ve eaten there before and seen her.”
“You never said anything to me about it.” I don’t know why I was feeling suddenly defensive. I suppose it was because Courtney had seemed annoyed that I hadn’t come back into town to see her.
“Would it have made a difference if I had?” asked Gabe, looking at me pointedly. “I didn’t think you were interested in knowing about your high school girlfriend. Also, brother, we don’t really talk that much. I didn’t find out you were coming down until about a week ago.”
True. I hadn’t visited Gabe and Ellie since they’d moved to Serenity. And I didn’t make a lot of time to chat with my brother. We were just not that close. Would it have made a difference if I’d known Courtney was living in Serenity?
If I was being honest, probably not.
Knowing that Courtney was in Serenity and seeing her with my own eyes were two different things entirely. I hadn’t thought about Courtney in ages. Now? I was having trouble not thinking about her. What had she said to me all those years ago? I tried to remember. There’s no one out there better for you than me. Was she right? I certainly hadn’t found anyone. Then again – had I been looking?
“I gotta run,” I told my brother.
On the way to The Point, I couldn’t help but think about what my brother had said about our mother and about not letting anyone get close. My mother had left us when I was sixteen. She’d worked for an engineering company and travelled to Delaware on business. One day, she came home, told my father that she’d met someone in Delaware, had been seeing him for two years, and was moving there to be with him. She’d packed her bags, left two days later, and hadn’t come back. Though she had reached out to Gabe and me, she’d stopped about five years ago when I just flat-out refused to respond to her. I didn’t need that kind of bullshit in my life.
It upset me that Gabe had accused me of doing something similar. But I guess I had.
When I arrived at The Point, I headed out onto the back deck. Fuck. There went my plan of sitting all by myself.
Standing over by the outdoor bar were my old classmates, people who either hadn’t gone home yet, or who still lived here.
They hailed me, cheering a bit, miming tossing and catching a football, and beckoned me over. I took a quick look around but didn’t see Courtney anywhere. I tried to smile, and I went to join the group.
7
Courtney
I spotted Ryan almost immediately. He was over by the patio bar, surrounded by a group of his old teammates. He was leaning casually against the bar, watching Elise Lashinsky as she told some story that had the whole group of men laughing.
I shouldn’t have come.
It had been a real challenge to force myself out of the house, to try to channel the old Courtney – the confident Courtney. In high school, I’d never wanted for dates. Even when I had been dating Ryan, guys had still tried to get me to look their way. Once I’d had Lea, that had all changed. People saw me differently as a mother, and I began to see myself differently, too.
Elise said something funny and checked to see if Ryan was laughing. She reached and touched his arm twice while telling the story. I was slightly annoyed to see that Ryan was smiling and enjoying himself. What a sucker. Elise was as desperate now as she’d been in high school.
I was two seconds away from high-tailing it out of there, but I stopped myself. I wasn’t high school Courtney anymore, but high school Courtney would never have stood by to watch Elise make a conquest out of Ryan Mcloughlin.
I took my hair out of the clip I’d put it in and let it fall long. I knew I looked good. I’d left the house in a pair of black silk shorts, a sleeveless red blouse, and red high heels. I’d put on red lipstick, too. Red lipstick will hide a lot of confidence problems. Just the act of wearing it alone screams confidence. As I strolled over to the bar, I put a swing in my step and waved at a patron I recognized. Rory Gates was in his mid-forties, owned a yacht, and pulled his boat up to The Mangroves at least once a week to get lunch.
“Hey, Rory,” I said, sauntering up next to him. I glowed inwardly when Rory did a double take.
“Hey, Courtney,” he said, blinking. “Wow, honey. What’s the occasion?”
“Gal’s gotta get out every once in a while. Help patron other restaurants.”
“Oh, hell no, this one’s on me,” Rory said, waving the bartender over. He ordered me a Pinot Grigio, which I thanked him for. Rory was married, and I knew his wife, so the flirtation was harmless. Rory introduced me to a few of his friends. One of them was incredibly interested and inserted himself between Rory and me to deepen the conversation. Elise had nothing on me.
I finished my Pinot and had another in hand pretty quickly. I was warming up. I could feel that thousand watt smile coming back, and the men around me were putty. Laughing and getting louder and louder, trying to gain my attention.
“Apparently, I’ve been on the wrong side of the bar,” said a voice over my shoulder. “Looks like the party’s over here.”
“Honey,” I said, whirling to face Ryan, who was smiling but looking unamused. “You’ve been on the wrong side of the bar for the last ten years.”
Oooohs and Ohs! filled the air around us, and Ryan looked decidedly uncomfortable. Good.
“Who’s this, Court? You know him?” asked Rory, sizing Ryan up and sounding protective.
“Gents,” I said, gesturing at Ryan. “Aren’t you football fans? Surely you recognize Mac Mcloughlin.”
“From the Patriots!” one of the guys said. It was clear that some knew Ryan and some didn’t. My introduction bought me five minutes to watch Ryan try to answer a hail of questions from a bunch of investors and business CEOs.
Ryan was more poised than I’d expected him to be. I guess when you’ve spent the last six years of your life giving press conferences, you could handle a few tipsy members of the country club set. In the end, I figured I’d rescue him.
“Come on,” I said, reaching in and running my hand down the smooth sleeve of Ryan’s expensive cut suit jacket. “I can get us a table.” Blood surged through me when my fingers tangled with his. I didn’t think too much about the pounding of my heart or the low throbbing that was starting between my legs. I towed Ryan out of the crowd and toward the tables.
8
Ryan
It was hard to play nice and make conversation when jealousy was coursing hot through my blood. And when Courtney reached down and tangled her fingers into mine, that jealousy turned into something else. Something more urgent. Fuck. Me. This was going to be a long night.
I’d decided when I’d seen her enter and head over to the blowhards in the checked shirts that maybe Gabe was right – that I’d been a real dick to Courtney. I didn’t want to do that again – in fact, I had told myself on the way over that I was not going to try and get her into bed. I wanted to find out more about her life, I was interested in the business of running a restaurant; I wanted to know who her kid was and who the kid’s father was. What had happened to him? But it was hard to focus on those thoughts when I was at half-mast.
“I can’t believe that whole group still hangs out together,” Courtney was saying as she sat down at an empty table. She leaned back in her chair and cros
sed her long, tanned legs. My mouth went a little dry.
“Do they all still live here?” I asked, glancing back to the group of our old classmates. I figured they were in town for the funeral and just hadn’t left yet.
Courtney shrugged. “I don’t keep track.” She peered at me beneath her lashes, her look all come-hither and flirty, completely at odds with brusque way she’d treated me earlier. “I keep track of you, though.”
“Do you?” I leaned forward, drawn by that look in her eye. I’d seen that look on so many women’s faces in the past. DTF. Down to fuck.
“Sure. You’re a career Patriots player. That’s impressive, given the fact that your coach is supposed to be mercenary.”
I shrugged. “I’m not an idiot. I do my job, I don’t get ahead of myself, and I don’t ask for more money.” I tried to change the subject. “So, you know about me. Great. Let’s not talk about me. I want to know about you.”
Courtney tossed her hair. “What’s to know?” she said, pursing her lips at me. Courtney was wearing her “fuck me” red lipstick. That’s what she used to call that color. I remembered the weekend we’d spent in Miami in that cheap motel suite. We’d desecrated every single surface, and I’d had “fuck me” red lipstick all over me. Before I could stop it, I was inundated with images of all we’d done there: Courtney on the kitchen table, her legs thrown over my shoulders. Courtney’s face when she came.
“Everything,” I said, trying to clear my head. “Anything.” Goddamn. When was the last time a girl had gotten me this distracted? I distracted women; they didn’t distract me.
“Sorry to disappoint,” said Courtney, taking a long sip of her wine and twirling a finger absently through a strand of bright blonde hair, “I can’t say my life is that interesting. I run the restaurant. I go to West Palm to see my sister, Karen. Do you remember Karen? Once a summer, I go up to Maine to visit my folks…”