I didn’t say a word, refusing to invite toxicity into my life again. There was a reason the past was behind us, and I didn’t care what she had to say. What was done was done.
Just a few words could send her world crashing down, but I kept them to myself. She might’ve ruined me once, but I wouldn’t play tit for tat.
I pulled into the driveway of the cottage I’d once visited almost daily, now a mystery as I parked next to a small SUV that sat where Mrs. Sutton’s green Pinto previously had.
“Thank you.” With that, she fled, practically sprinting to the porch.
I waited until she was inside to pull away, hating every second I sat there. But as I drove away, I hated the searing pain in my chest more.
Josie
Bridesmaid dress shopping sucked.
Throw in a rambunctious kid tired of errands and a sleepless night, and it was downright painful.
Luckily the store was in Briar, and it happened to be next to a coffee shop. We revived our plummeting patience levels with macchiatos before trudging in to start the arduous journey, having already survived car shopping with Linc.
My new-to-me SUV was our day’s chariot after we returned the rental, and so far, it was the only high point of the day.
As the only out-of-town member of the bridal party, I was the last to pick out a dress. Thankfully, I was permitted to wear whatever I wanted as long as it was Liv’s chosen shade of pink, a hue that made me look more like a Pepto bottle than a person. For my baby sister, I’d wear whatever she wanted, even baby diarrhea yellow, which seemed more appealing than the pink catastrophe staring back in the mirror.
I forced a smile, turning side to side in the eighth and final option they offered. On the hanger, it was nothing special, but once I had it on, I felt better, free of the puffy tulle the other dresses favored. The simple cut of the strapless frock skimmed my curves, masterfully hiding the mommy zone, earning bonus points despite the horrendous eraser-top shade.
Liv pouted as she tapped her acrylics against her phone case, knowing my fake smile when she saw it. “What’s wrong? You look hot!”
Like hot garbage.
I swallowed the thought, trying to stay positive. It was just a color, and it didn’t look that bad. Besides, it was the last option. It was either meh or cupcake queen.
Linc’s eyes met mine in the mirror, freezing despite his ever-growing restlessness. He no longer wiggled around in the plastic folding chair, tablet held out to the side rather than glued in front of his face. “You look like a princess, Mommy.”
Sold.
“Alright, this is it.”
* * *
On the way home, I spotted a familiar black truck parked where trouble once lived and confirmed my worst fears. I couldn’t shake the feeling all night that Luke was the man I saw when we arrived, and the truck in the driveway was all the proof I needed.
Great.
I had three months left on my quarterly lease.
Three months I’d be stuck across the way from him.
Three months spent a few hundred yards from a criminal.
A liar.
A coward.
I tried not to look at the house, but banging in the distance caught Linc’s attention, stopping him in his tracks. I glanced over to see a shirtless Luke on the dock with a hammer in hand, lining up a new board, his muscled back glistening with sweat.
Linc looked at me in concern. “What’s he doing, Mommy?”
“He’s fixing the dock, hun.” I continued on inside, keeping my eyes where they belonged, not on the sculpted body in the distance. The one that kept me up all night, twisted in more ways than I cared to admit.
While Linc made a beeline to charge his tablet, I worked on dinner. A trip to the grocery store was on the horizon, but I was fighting it off until the next check arrived.
Survivor benefits weren’t much, but they kept food on the table. As a single mom, I wasn’t rolling in dough, and while business was picking up steam, my savings took a hit from moving costs and the three-month deposit Dan required upfront.
We sat down to a less than gourmet dinner of microwave meals, home-cooked anything impossible until the moving container arrived with pots and pans.
“Does that man have a boat?” Linc asked, studying the noodle on his fork, a limp zucchini clinging to it.
“Maybe,” I replied, irritated that Luke was coming up again. He was turning into a cockroach, dammit. “Stop playing with your food.”
He sucked down the noodle, the sauce-coated starch making a vile slurp. “Can I ride on it?”
I eyed him over, the sudden interest surprising since he’d wanted nothing to do with the beach in California. “He’s probably busy,” I muttered, pushing a noodle around my plate, just as guilty of playing with my food. “I’ll take you on a boat if you want. We can go whale watching.”
It wasn’t too expensive, and the cottage was depressing. The smell of mothballs and just plain old lingered. Heading out would do us good.
His eyes grew wide. “Whale watching?”
“Yup. You ride out into the ocean on a boat and watch them swim.” I hadn’t been in years, but I doubted it changed much. Whales were whales. Boats were boats. If anything, people stared at their phones the whole time rather than the water.
“Can we take Aunt Liv?” he asked, practically leaping out of his seat, the signature Linc liveliness barreling over any self-control. “Aunt Liv LOVES whales!”
“She does?” I laughed, spearing a noodle. “I didn’t know that.”
Like Linc, she hated the beach, but for vanity’s sake. As a hairdresser, she was sensitive about her locks, and salt air wasn’t kind to keratin.
It drove her nuts when I laid out in Cali, shunning the ridiculous beauty routines she’d recommend. I was a mom. I didn’t have the time or money for three-hundred-dollar hair treatments. One day she’d understand.
“Yeah,
