Page 6 of Where You Left Me

But what happened to us wasn’t by choice. I’d never wish that pain be inflicted on anyone, ever.

And I never stopped loving Jones.

Though there is some truth to her words. Our relationship did end badly. So much so, I haven’t had a real relationship since. There was one guy, sometime after college. But he was ready to settle down, even proposed. That’s when I knew I wasn’t over Jones. And that maybe, I never would be.

“I mean, I guess you could say that,” I finally agree.

I don’t feel prepared to have this conversation with them tonight. Especially not at a bar on a random Wednesday surrounded by too many familiar faces.

“Having a fight with Jones was inevitable,” Rosie chimes in, giving a little nonchalant shrug. “I mean, it’s Jones. But ditching your girls? I definitely did not see that coming.”

A lump slides up my throat and I push the words out, “You’re right. There’s no excuse.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’re here all summer so there’s plenty of time to make up for it,” Cammie says.

Her response is soCammie, it somehow makes me feel better. At least for now.

I nod and take another sip of my wine, glancing over my shoulder without thinking first. Because I instantly get hit with a blow to the chest as my eyes land on Jones. Grown-up-Jones. Warmth pools between my thighs. After all these years, he can still turn me on with a simple glance.

But in an instant, the dreadful memory that’s always going to be associated with Jones crashes into my thoughts and drowns out the lovely ones. We can never be what we once were. Because our relationship will always be tainted.

“Is that true?” Rosie asks, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her hands. “You’re staying all summer?”

“It looks that way. My dad is in way worse shape than my mom led on.”

“Yeah, the stroke took a lot out of him,” Cammie says.

“Every time I called home, Mom told me he was getting stronger every day. Dad and I have never been super close, but I should’ve figured he was worse than I thought because she’d never put him on the phone.” An image of my dad springs to my mind. Him in his favorite recliner at home, unable to focus on the TV because the double vision is too severe.

“I haven’t seen him back at the store since,” Rosie says, waving down the waitress to bring us another round of drinks.

Regret twists in my gut. “I wish I would’ve come home sooner. I feel like a terrible daughter.”

“Well, you’re not the best daughter, that’s for damn sure,” Rosie says bluntly.

“Rosalie!” Cammie smacks Rosie in the arm.

Instead of making me feel worse, like that comment should, a bubble of laughter erupts out of me. I can’t help it. It’s like I’vebeen waiting for someone, no not someone, for Rosie, to tell me exactly how it is. None of my friends back in Connecticut will give it to me straight. They’re probably all too afraid to hurt my feelings. But not Rosie.

“No, she’s right,” I finally agree when I stop laughing. “Rosie, you’re right. I’m a terrible daughter. I should’ve come as soon as I heard about the stroke. But you guys just don’t understand…there’s too much history. Too much I left behind.”

“Well, you’re here now,” Rosie said, giving me a smile.

My heart swells and along with it, tears in my eyes.

“And that calls for a celebration.” Rosie holds her nearly empty glass in the air.

“Yes!” Cammie chimes in, her smile so big.

“Okay,” I say with a light chuckle. “But we can’t celebrate too much. I’m officially in charge of the store tomorrow.”

“So what? Cammie practically runs the hardware store and that doesn’t stop her from throwing down with me on a Wednesday night. What good is it being a lady if you don’t take advantage of it?”

I quirk a brow at her.

“It’s Wine Wednesday. Half-price wine.”

As if on cue, the waitress sets down three bottles of beer in front of us.

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