Page 149 of Like A Moth To A Flame

I had a future to look forward to—with Tommy and the practice. I had my best friend here, right alongside me.

We had a plan now, for how to fix our old building, and if we could manage it, we were hoping to open next spring. Everything was looking up.

Stepping out of the courthouse wearing one of my mom’s old white milk-maid dresses, a pair of her white boots, and an old grey and white faux fur coat she’d loved, I looked up at the darkeningsky. Amelia stood beside me, wearing a long red dress, her hair done perfectly and her makeup done to match. The snow danced around us, floating out of the sky and melting across the sidewalk as I stepped down and moved down onto the old, worn brick road.

“What do you wanna do now?” Amelia asked, beaming as she looked over at me. She was happy for me—I could see how her eyeliner had run in raccoon circles beneath her eyes.

“I’m hungry,” I said, smiling up at her. “To the diner for the reception?”

Behind us, Carl and Tommy were coming down the steps, both wearing black suits and looking downright devilish.

“Hey boys!” Amelia called, and they both looked up at her. “Wanna grab a bite?”

They both shrugged and hurried toward us. Tommy looped an arm around my shoulders, and Carl grabbed Amelia’s hand, grinning as he hurried with her across the street toward the familiar low-slung brick building of Mae’s Diner. Tommy walked a bit slower, savoring his time with me, and it only reminded me of the first day we’d walked down this street together and how unsure and anxious he had been.

Now he looked… proud? Was that the right word?

Maybe he was. Maybe I was someone he could be proud to be seen with. I was his wife now. He had pursued me. That must mean something, right?

The wind whipped up around me, slithering over my exposed neckline, and the collar that still sat against my collarbone. I shivered, pulling the coat tighter around me as we continued downthe sidewalk. The cold air stung my face, my eyes watering and sending a cascade of tears leaking down my cheeks.

Damn it. Damn. It would ruin my makeup.

Tommy must have sensed it, because before I knew it, he had leaned over, pulling me close against him and bringing the knuckles of his other hand up to wipe away my tears until they landed across the back of his hand, nestled on the wings of the moth inked there.

He’d tried to cover it up a few times, worried what the people of the town would say, and I’d flat out refused to let him, arguing that I had to wear my collar in plain sight, and I couldn’t take it off, and so he should be proud of his wings.

After a while, he gave in.

Finally, we stepped into the diner, Carl holding open the door for all of us, and smiling sweetly as we passed. I sighed in relief as the warm air hit me, bringing with it the scents of butter and pie, whipped cream, and sizzling bacon. They were scents that would normally set my stomach into a hungering rumble, but today had a weird surge of nausea rising in my belly.

My heart leaped to life inside my chest, and maybe my eyes gave it away, because before I knew it, Amelia was on me, her eyes narrowed and her lips upturned in a knowing grin.

“What’s up, buttercup?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Just a little queasy,” I said, shrugging.

I swept past her, ignoring her knowing grin as I hurried over to one of our usual booths and pressed myself as far against the wallas I could manage. Tommy slid in beside me, looking oddly pale but maybe a little proud. What was that look on his face?

“What’s wrong?” I whispered to him, and he shook his head, looking pointedly away as Carl and Amelia slid into the booth across from us. Tommy stayed stiff, and I glanced across the table at Carl, who seemed to be glaring daggers across the room.

Did I miss something? What did I miss?

Leaning forward, I peeked around Tommy’s wide shoulders. Across the diner, Tammy and Ray were sitting in a booth, whispering to each other like schoolchildren. Both of them were the occasional glance in our direction. Ray had his arms crossed over his chest, and the narrowed look in his eyes told me maybe he wasn’t quite picking up what she was putting down.

Hopefully?

Was that thought maybe just wishful thinking?

Behind them, Mrs. Rhodes, the schoolteacher, was sitting with who I presumed to be her husband, a short, stout man who was shaped rather like the Blueberry Girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Both of them had looks on their faces like something in the room had suddenly begun to smell like horse shit.

“What’s going on?” I asked, looking from Tommy to Amelia.

Amelia had a look of realization on her face, but before she could open her mouth to speak, Mama Mae appeared at our table side.

Mae, too, had acclimated to the weather. Mae had traded out her typical tank top and yoga pants for a heavy black cardigan with cherry embellishments, buttoned in the front, and thick blue jeans, rolled up at the ankles, and black ankle boots. She looked adorable,as she always did. Looking at Mae was like looking at the 1950s come to life.

She looked down at us, one perfectly groomed eyebrow cocked as she took in the scene and our expressions. I must have looked flabbergasted.

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