Page 15 of When I Come Back
“Tonight?” asks Thea with a questioning look on her face.
“Yeah, it’s Thursday. Date night,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.
I roll my eyes, but neither of them is paying any attention to me.
Thea chuckles. “Wouldn’t miss it. Will you have time to take me to grab my car beforehand?”
“Of course, babe. See you, Cary.” He gives her a quick kiss on the forehead, grabs a coffee at the counter, and is out the door. Thea’s eyes follow him until he’s out of sight.
“You seem… happy with him.” My chest burns as I speak those words.
“He’s… my person.” Her eyes are warm with affection for the man. “He was there when I needed him, and I can’t imagine what my life would look like without him.” Each word feels like a papercut to my skin. I recall a time when I had been her person. I know her intention isn’t to hurt me, and I honestly don’t know why I’m feeling like this. She’s allowed to be with whomever she wants. I’m glad to see her happy. But I can’t shake this feeling thathe’snot the one who should be making her happy.
“I’m thinking we should reopen the restaurant to the public on Monday. People have been calling asking for reservations, and the staff needs to get back to work, a lot of them rely on tips,”says Thea. “We also have a big charity event this Saturday that’s been booked for months that I need to finalize the prep for.”
“Okay, I’ll come in and help with the prep. You can show me what there is to know about RED, and I’ll try to make myself useful in any way I can.”
Thea nods in agreement, and we make tentative plans to meet at the restaurant mid-morning tomorrow. I sit alone at the coffee shop for a long while after she says goodbye, reflecting on everything we talked about.
I knew coming back here to deal with my parents’ deaths would be difficult. I just didn’t realize how excruciating it would be to have to deal with that while also seeing the woman I used to love more than the breath in my lungs love someone else.
When did I become a fucking masochist?
Chapter Seven
Thea
Should someone who’s only had a handful of hours of sleep in the last week go drinking and out for date night? Probably not, but I’m not about to cancel on Ripley. Besides, I need a little bit of normal after everything that’s happened. Going out with Ripley guarantees a night of laughter and getting out of my own head—which is probably why he’d been so adamant.
Louie’s isn’t fancy by any means, but the food is decent, and the jukebox is free. Ripley walks over to our booth from the bar with the drinks in hand.
“I got you your new favorite,” he says with a smirk tilting the corner of his mouth, knowing he’s the creator of my “new favorite.” I’m not usually one to drink bourbon straight, but this new recipe of his goes down so smoothly that it’d be a shame to mix it with anything.
“No need to be cocky. Everyone in this town knows you make the best bourbon,” I say rolling my eyes at him. He has every right to be cocky though. It’s in such high demand we’re gettingcalls from distributors all over the country wanting to sell it to their clients.
A small smile creeps up his lips. It makes me giddy that he’s almost as proud of himself as I am of him.
“So…” he draws the word out as he brings his glass to his lips, the tone of his voice telling me he’s about to ask me something I won’t like. “Coffee with Cary, huh? Why didn’t you tell methatwas happening?”
Carrington Grant is the last thing I want to talk about on our date night. My eyes wander while I think of what to say. There are couples on the dance floor already, a few guys playing pool at the billiards tables, and more people just walking in. It’s the only place in town to hang out this late—other than RED—so people are flocking to it since we’re still closed.
It’s not that I want to hide anything from Ripley, he knows all there is to know about my past relationship. I just can’t figure out my own feelings about Carrington being back. Seeing him again has brought up all the memories I keep buried deep down. Finding out we are now business partners has left me numb.
Over the years—when we were together—I urged Cary to reconnect with his parents, but he insisted he’d closed that chapter, leaving no room for argument. I keep trying to rack my brain to figure out why Owen and Hazel did this. Why not just leave it all to Brooks? That made the most sense. But no, they left it to the son who hasn’t spoken to them in over a decade and… me.
I turn my face back to Ripley. “Because there was nothing to tell. Owen and Hazel put us in a situation where I have to talk to him even if I don’t want to.” I heave a long, resigned sigh. “I was hoping he’d say yes to the payment plan idea, but that would have been too easy, I guess.”
He reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “Maybe he still will. He’s probably just in shock like the rest of us.”
“That’s definitely possible.” I take another sip of the bourbon, keeping my other hand wrapped in Ripley’s on top of the table. “I guess my issue is that his life isn’t here. He can’t expect me to believe he plans to stay in South Carolina for any length of time when he has a whole life in Seattle. Probably a girlfriend too.” I don’t like the way my voice sounds strained on that last part. The thought that’s plagued me since I saw him standing in front of RED invades my mind again. I shouldn’t care if he has a girlfriend. Idon’tcare if he has a girlfriend. I’m just trying to make my point.
“Would it bother you… if he did?” His voice is lower than before so no one around us can hear.
“What? No. Obviously not. I’m just saying his life isn’t here. Finding out RED exists shouldn’t change that.”
Ripley squeezes my hand, making me meet his gaze before responding, “I don’t think RED is the issue.”
I pull my hand from his then pour the rest of the bourbon in my glass down my throat, letting the smooth burn distract me for a moment. “Can we not? This has nothing to do with me.” I stare back out to the crowd of people around the bar. Shelley, the bartender who’s always here on Thursday nights, looks like she’s ready to call for reinforcements. No one blames us for closing to take our time to grieve, but I feel a bit guilty as I watch her panicked eyes look over to the door as someone else enters.
