Page 19 of When I Come Back
“I punched him in the face.” I look up at her as I say this, trying to get a reaction.
“That’s what you did.” She levels me with what I’m assuming is her signature unaffected look. “I asked how you felt about what he said.”
Well fuck.This is going to be harder than I thought.
Present
“Well, it sounds to me like you know what you have to do.” Dr. Ferris’ monotone voice finds me on the other end of the line. I’ve gotten used to—and even appreciate—her detached way of evaluating the struggles I share with her. She’s pushed me out of my comfort zone over the years without ever really applying any pressure.
The last ten days have been a real test for all I’ve learned about handling my emotions—express, don’t repress—and I’ve found myself reverting to old coping mechanisms. A talk with her was overdue. She always helps me find perspective when I’m spiraling.
“Yeah, but knowing what I have to do and actually doing it are two very different things,” I reply. With a sigh I add, “Thank you for taking my call so late, I know you didn’t have to.”
In a rare moment of sincerity she says, “I hope you know I’m really proud of you. What you’re going through is not easy: grieving your parents, reconnecting with a former partner and friend, inheriting a business you knew nothing about. It would be very easy for you to shut down and internalize right now. You’ve come such a long way from our first meeting, and I hope you know I will always answer when you call.”
I clear my throat before speaking. “Thank you, have a good night.”
Dr. Ferris’ words echo in my mind as I stroll back to my hotel in the cool night air. I do know what I have to do—something I should have done years ago.
Chapter Nine
Thea
Iwipe my clammy hands on the front of my pants. Carrington should be here any moment now, and I can’t get my nerves under control. Thankfully, I’m at least well-rested after last night’s game of ‘Redneck Wrecked’ wrecked me. That was Ripley’s goal all along. He knew a night out was the only thing that would work with how in my head I’ve been.
I slept a full eight hours. Ripley made sure to give me ibuprofen last night, in hopes it would keep the inevitable hangover at bay. All I woke up with was a minor headache, and thank God for that, considering tomorrow we are hosting a big charity event, A Night of Hope—a gala supporting domestic violence prevention. I need to be on my A-game. This event is one of the biggest ones that RED has on the books for this year. The entire space has been rented out along with the patio area. We’re hoping the event will bring us more like it since the company hosting has a huge client list.
Now that it’s just me and Brooks handling it, I’m nervous. Ripley was always going to be out of town for it, but Hazel and Owen would have been here. And once again, Carrington being in town isn’t helping. If anything, it’s a distraction.
I finalized the menu for the event with our head chef, Travis, earlier, and Ripley made sure we had enough liquor on hand before he left this morning. I still have to print the menus for the table settings. The to-do list is long and seems to be growing. I don’t have time to deal with Carrington wanting a tour and to be shown how things work around here.
I look over at the clock by the entrance to the kitchen and see that it’s ten-fifty-nine. Carrington told me he’d be here at eleven. If he’s late, maybe I’ll just lock the door and pretend like I forgot. He doesn’t have a key yet, so it seems like a decent plan.
I roll my eyes at myself knowing I don’t have it in me to be that petty. And it wouldn’t matter anyway because he walks in at eleven on the dot.
“Hey,” he says as he hands me a to-go cup and steps around me, farther into the restaurant. He pushes his sunglasses up onto his head, pulling my focus to his long chestnut hair tied back at the nape of his neck. I haven’t gotten used to the new style just yet, but I can’t deny that it looks good. Not that being handsome was ever an issue for him. The man never even had an awkward teenage phase.
“Hi,” I reply before I take a tentative sip of the drink he brought me. It’s my regular coffee order, exactly how I like it. He even remembered the chocolate powder.Damn him.
Carrington is looking around, seemingly taking it all in. It hits me then he hasn’t actually been inside RED—the new restaurant or the distillery next door. It must have been odd to be handed the ownership having never seen the place.
I take a deep breath, only meaning to clear my head, but his gaze snaps back to me like it was aimed at him to get his attention.
“Sorry, I just… didn’t realize how different everything would look.” His voice is somber. I guess he expected the decor to be reminiscent of what he left behind and not up-scale.
I give him a small smile before saying, “We did… a lot of remodeling. We kept the patio but otherwise, almost everything changed. It had to.” Carrington knows how outdated the diner was. It shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise that the place was gutted to make all of this happen. This used to be a one-story building with checkered floors all throughout—the kind that were popular in the 1950s. Now the floor is lined with wood in the dining areas and decorative tiles in the kitchen and bathrooms. We wanted it to have personality without being too loud. The second floor only goes halfway across the building, overlooking the front lobby with a vaulted ceiling and light wooden beams stretching across it.
Like I’d told him before, the patio stayed, but now there’s a two-story floor-to-ceiling wall of windows that leads to it. The goal was to make sure you could see the lake even from inside and give the whole space tons of natural light. I love to sit by those windows when it rains. The raindrops rush down the window like tears cascading down a cheek. It’s always calmed me for some reason.
We leaned into the natural, earth-loving look with a sage green and linen palette for the decor. There are gold accents and light fixtures throughout. The lake is our biggest draw, so we didn’t want to take away from its beauty or the nature surrounding it.
He nods like he’s trying to wrap his head around everything. I give him another second, knowing it’ll take more than that to truly come to terms with it all. His eyes land on the two photoson the wall behind the hostess stand. One of them he’s familiar with, the other is new to him and possibly the most recent photo he’s seen of his parents in the thirteen years they didn’t speak. His feet seem to move toward it of their own accord. I’m spellbound as I watch him stare at the photo, wondering what he could be thinking. Is he regretful they went so long without speaking? Is he wishing he’d been here to see all of this happen?
Without meaning to, I say, “That was the day before we reopened under the new name.” He looks over his shoulder at me for a moment before turning back, and some of the tension in his body disappears. “Brooks took the photo for us, insisting he didn’t need to be in it. I don’t think I’d ever seen your parents so happy.” I pause to get up the nerve for what I want to say next. “That night,” I walk toward him, stopping just a few steps behind him, “all they could talk about was how much they wished you were here with us.”
Carrington’s head shoots around to look at me, not realizing I’m much closer now. He closes the space between us so we’re standing just inches apart. I have to tilt my head up to look him in the eyes. “Why… why would they say that?” Confusion and regret lace his words.
I shrug my shoulders, knowing it feels too nonchalant for this conversation. “Because it was true. They loved you, Carrington.”
