Chapter Thirty-Nine
T he first four days of the following week, Tobias avoids me at all costs by locking himself in his office when he decides to show up after missing every morning meeting. I don't bother to call him out on it, because it's pointless. Regardless of his intentions to block me out, Shelly and I have spent endless hours going over the financials and programs to be set in place. And for the most part, we've accomplished a lot. If I left now, I'm confident she would see it all through. Tobias has been working on similar ventures most of his career, but I'm not quite done yet, and it's my loyalty to the workers that will keep me here to see it through. But the fact that he's avoided me so artfully makes my mission that much harder. But even on the days he keeps his office sealed, I can feel his curious stares and the weight they hold. I have no idea what it's going to take to get my answers, but the more time that passes, the more I'm starting to believe I'll never get them. And for that, my anger only grows.
Desperate for a friendly face, I park my rental and exit the car, locking it up before I make my way through the door. A bell jingles at my arrival.
"Be right there," she calls from the dressing room. The shop has changed in appearance; newly renovated, fresh paint on the walls, a new and improved logo. As I search the rack for new dresses intent on helping her make her quota for the month, I smile. It's good to know some things haven't changed.
Tessa rounds the corner, her focus back on the woman in the dressing room. "Let's try a size up." She turns in my direction. "Feel free to look arou—" She stops mid-step, mid-sentence when she spots me in the middle of her shop.
"Hey, Tessa. Been a long time," I smile, giving her a little wave a second before her eyes drop. She bites her lip before walking past me to a rack. When she finds the dress size she's looking for, her eyes again lift to mine. "How are you, Cecelia?"
I revive my smile, baffled by her initial greeting. Is she angry I left without a goodbye? It's not like we were girlfriends. We never ventured out together.
"I'm good. In town for a few weeks, and I wanted to stop by and see how you're doing."
She dips her chin. "Good. Give me a second."
Maybe I expected too much, but her reaction was not at all what I hoped for. Rattling with uncertainty, I sort through a rack, grabbing a few dresses in my size before she reappears. Her hair is a little longer, but she looks very much the same. Curvier in the hips but still a stunning blue-eyed blonde. She's got a bit of color despite the winter temperatures. And before she saw me, she looked...happy. She approaches me, just a little shorter in stature, and addresses me with a lifeless tone.
"So, who are we dressing you for today?"
I frown. "Just me. I haven't been back in ages, and I just really wanted to see you and stop by and pick up a few dresses. I love what you have in here. How is business?"
" Business has been good for a really long time," her words are laced with a little contempt. And I feel the stab as she eyes me. "You look...incredible."
"Thank you." I almost want to make my reply a question because of the way she said it.
"You always were gorgeous." This is not a compliment.
And I'm no longer hurt, I feel insulted. And I'm not as beat around the bush as I used to be. "Tessa, have I done something to—"
"I'm ready, Tessa," the lady calls from the small dressing room, exiting the door. "Come see what you think."
Tessa's eyes roll over me before she tears them away. "Some people just don't know when to give up," she mutters, "I'll be back."
Briefly, I consider taking cover before she does return. The last thing I need is another confrontation with someone I once considered a friend. But the way she's regarding me, it's as if I'm raining piss all over her parade.
I pick out a few more dresses as Tessa checks the woman out. I step up to the counter with an armful, and she rings me up. It's the diamond on her finger that draws my attention while she bags them, and then it dawns on me.
Oh, Karma, you disloyal bitch.
When I tried to play matchmaker with her and Tyler years ago, I'd been vetting her for the wrong man.
"Tessa—"
"Tyler wasn't the one who walked in my shop after you left. It's Roberts now," she says, lifting biting blue eyes to mine. "We named our son Dominic. He'll be four next week. Baily is two. We named her after his grandmother. But you never did get to meet her, did you?"
Fighting the lump in my throat, I shake my head as Sean's wife holds out her hand. "That'll be one seventy-three."
Fumbling with my purse, I hand my card over as she cashes me out.
"Tessa, I didn't realize—"
"I often wondered what I'd say to you if you ever came back here." Her tone is no longer full of accusation, but curiosity as she walks around the counter with the bag in her hand. "I guess it shouldn't matter that you got him first, only that he's mine to keep." There's not a trace of fear or malice in her tone. She's confident in her marriage.
"I'm nothing but happy for you both."
I bite my lip as she hands me my bag. "You should grab another dress on your way out, on me. It's the least I can do. After all, you're the reason I have my family."
Emotions warring, I rip my eyes away. What can I say? There's nothing to say. I feel more like an outsider than I ever have.
Sean's wife.
She's probably in on more secrets than I can possibly imagine. Speechless, bag in hand, I turn to leave, and she stops me by speaking up.
"I'm sorry, Cecelia. You didn't deserve that. But I just can't look at you without thinking about the beginning." She lets out a labored breath. "It took me a long time to get close to him. At one point, I almost gave up. And when I found out it was you who..." our eyes lock. "I guess I started to resent you a little and your place with him. All those days I dressed you..." she shakes her head as if clearing the memories and shrugs, but I feel the weight of the act. "Small towns can be a bitch, right? But that was a long time ago. I can't fault you for being with him, can I?"
Tears threaten as I look back at her and imagine her struggle to try and build something with a man who was closed off due to the loss of his best friend and the woman who he felt betrayed him.
"I don't know what to say." Guilt eats me alive, and she gives me a solemn nod. I palm the handle on the door. "You have to know I'm no threat to you. I would never—"
" He would never," she corrects me confidently. "But he's not why you're back."
She knows.
She knows my history. And I could give her a number of reasons for my sudden appearance that has nothing to do with her husband, but she's no fool, and she's not out for blood.
"Be careful, Cecelia. You know well not everything is what it seems to be."
It's not a warning. These are words of caution from an old friend. She's throwing me a bone, and I accept it. She's not threatening me, but she clearly resents the fact that I'm here.
And she's not alone.
I say the only thing I can as the winter wind whips at me from where I stand with the door partially open. "Take care, Tessa."