Page 26 of Only Fate

“I’ll let you make yourself comfortable,” Pete says. “Let me know if you need anything.” He tips his head toward Terrance before leaving. “See you next week for poker night.”

Terrance shoves his hands inside his pockets. “Your grandmother is making dinner tonight. If you’re not busy settling in, stop by.”

I gesture to the duffel bag. “Not much to unpack here.”

I’m not selling my condo until I’m one hundred percent positive I’m staying in Blue Beech. I’ll give it six months. If Essie doesn’t forgive me by then, I don’t know if I can live in the same town. With how small Blue Beech is, we’re bound to run into each other, and that’ll only be a harsh reminder of what I fucked up.

Terrance grins and takes his hand from his pocket to offer a thumbs-up. “Glad to have you staying here in Blue Beech.”

After settling in, I sit on the couch and drag my MacBook from my bag. But I don’t turn it on. Instead, I drop it next to me and wander to the plywood bookshelves on the wall. I run my fingers along the spines of old yearbooks. Blue Beech High yearbooks, each year dating back to the early 1950s.

Essie and I graduated from high school the same year, so I immediately grab the one dated with her senior year. I flip through the pages to find her picture, via alphabetical order by class, but it isn’t there.

River’s is.

She’s missing.

I check the class photo.

She’s also missing.

As far as I knew, Essie attended school here for every grade.

11

“Of course Rhett’s attorney is hot,” Brielle whispers when we’re at the conference room doorway at Terrance’s law firm.

Yes, I will call it Terrance’s firm until the day I die.

Never Adrian’s.

I frown, hating that Brielle is right.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to hear women gush over him. They did it at Adaway and Williams too. And now, he’s the main topic of conversation here. According to Amelia, a few women have already asked him out.

The boardroom is all business with its bland cream walls and long, chipped table. The wall paintings and Berber carpet are outdated. It also smells like a concoction of three different colognes.

Adrian and Rhett stop talking when they notice us.

Rhett glowers, dressed in a floral button-up, like he’s ready for a Hawaiian cruise.

Adrian, wearing a sleek black suit, stands from his chair and extends his hand toward me.

“Essie Lane,” I say in the most professional tone I’ve ever used in my life.

Adrian smirks. He gently takes my hand and sweeps his thumb across it, causing me to shiver. “I’d like to say we already know each other pretty well, Essie.”

I quickly jerk my hand from his hold and ignore Brielle’s side-eye.

“Brielle …” She pauses, unsure which last name to use, and I smile when she decides on her maiden. “Hermaker. That asshole’s ex.”

Rhett doesn’t bother standing. He stays in his chair and pushes his chest forward. He thinks he has this in the bag. What a scumbag, dragging his high school sweetheart and the mother of his children through hell over money.

In high school, even when he was with Brielle, he asked me for a blow job once. When I told her, he said I lied, and she didn’t believe me. Another time, during sophomore year, he tried to corner Mia against a wall at a homecoming party. She kneed him in the nuts and threatened to castrate him if he ever looked at her again. I’m sure the nanny wasn’t the first time he cheated.

“Just accept my terms, Brielle,” Rhett says as soon as we sit across from him. He huffs. “This is a waste of my time. I have better shit to do.”

“Like what?” Brielle asks, spit leaving her lips with that one word. “Screwing the nanny?”

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