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Againstmybetterjudgment,I agreed to meet with Melissa at the local coffee shop this morning at 7:30. Like always, I arrived at least ten minutes early. Some might say I’m a glutton for punishment, but in reality, I need the closure she might be able to provide.
“Hey, Barry. Can I get my usual, except a large this time?”
“Sure thing, Carter. One large, black coffee straight up! Scone or no scone today?” he asks.
As much as I would love to grab some breakfast, I don’t want Melissa to get the wrong idea and think this is some kind of date. I would much rather get this over with and be on my way. My 10:00 a.m. meeting across the bridge provides the perfect excuse when it comes time for me to leave, ensuring that our time together will be limited.
“Just the coffee this morning. Thanks.” Once I have it in hand, I find a table near the front window. Typically, I prefer privacy and sit at the back of the café in one of the booths, but not this time. Melissa has always worried about what the neighbors would think or how she would be perceived by strangers that don’t matter. Being in the spotlight will guarantee that she’s on her best behavior.
I’ve just sat down when Melissa walks in carrying her jacket and wearing yoga pants, an off-the-shoulder purple sweater, and black shoes that look like something a ballerina would wear. Her shoulder-length blonde hair is curled and hanging loose around her face. Her cupid bow lips are glossed to perfection, and her long lashes frame her chocolate-brown eyes.
I’m sure most men would find Melissa and her pixie-like features attractive, but all I see is fakeness. Fake lashes. Fake nails. Lips that look like they’ve been stung by a bee and swollen to three times their normal size. Gone is the natural beauty I remember from our youth, replaced by a woman trying to be something she’s not.
Leanna, on the other hand, is absolutely gorgeous with no make-up on. What you see is what you get with her, no false pretenses and nothing fake. I’ve always appreciated that about her, and it’s one of the many reasons why we get along so well. Until recently, things between us have been open, comfortable, and easy. Although we had a wonderful time together the last two days, our connection felt tenuous and slightly stilted, as if her guard was up or hiding something. Figuring she was trying to put up a brave front after suffering her first loss, I didn’t push her to talk about it.
“Do I have time to order something?” Melissa asks, her head cocked to one side and a hand on her hip in what I assume is a flirtatious pose.
I make a show of looking at my watch, then say, “Sure, but just so you know, I have to leave around eight for a meeting in the city.”
She sighs. “You’re only giving me half an hour?”
“I surprised myself by giving you that much. I can’t imagine you need that much time to apologize.”
“Don’t be rude, Carter. That’s never been your style.”
“You’re right. Sorry.” No matter how upset I get, I always try to say kind words in return or wrap them up under the guise of humor and sarcasm.
“Give me two minutes to order.” Not waiting for a response, she walks up to the counter and smiles at Barry. Barry returns the gesture and looks “happy as a clam” to be helping her out.
I twiddle my thumbs around the coffee in my hands when she sits opposite me. “Thank you, Carter, for agreeing to this. When I saw you at the dining event the other night, I knew fate had brought us together. I’ve wanted to apologize to you for so long but didn’t know how to find you or if I should even try.”
“As I recall, you didn’t leave me much of an option. It was either agree to meet with you or run you over with my truck,” I say, giving her my trademark smirk so she knows I’m not upset…anymore.
“I’m sure it was a tough choice,” she teases.
“You mean between the possibility of jail time or having this conversation? Yeah, it really was.” We both laugh at my joke, the tension between us now broken. She puts her hand on my arm and then lightly strokes it with her fingernail. It’s an unwelcome gesture, and my smile abruptly dissipates. I pull my arm from her reach and place it on the back of the chair beside me.
The place begins to fill up with the next rush of customers getting their morning caffeine fix before starting their workday. I’ll need to leave soon, so I gesture for Melissa to begin the discussion since this littletête-à-têtewas her idea.
“Have it your way, Carter,” she harumphs. She takes a sip from her hot tea, drawing out the moment. “I tried to find you last year when I returned home to Iowa, but my parents said I had just missed you by a few weeks. Sorry about your Pops passing away, by the way.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, feeling choked up inside at her mention of my father. He was my best friend growing up, and I miss him terribly.
Realizing I’m not going to say anything else, she continues, “When I asked my parents about you, they said you moved away and became a corporate executive. Imagine my surprise when I saw you working as a bodyguard.”
“Protection Specialist,” I mumble.
She waves her hand dismissively, “Whatever your title, according to my parents, your dad kept your life pretty hush-hush. They couldn’t tell me much other than that you come back every couple of months to work on the house, never staying more than a few days.”
I bob my head, confirming her words. “I asked my father to keep my private life private, which explains your parents' lack of knowledge regarding my whereabouts and my profession.”
After an uncomfortable silence stretches between us, she finally says, “I want to apologize for leaving the way I did, Carter.”
“But not forleaving,” I retort bluntly. “The note you left me said, ‘I don’t want to be trapped in a small-town life, living with regrets, and stuck with no way out.’ You were my first love, Melissa. It hurt deeply when you didn’t give me the courtesy of ending our relationship in person—and leaving nothing but that note. You wrote the same words to me that my mother said to my father when she left. How do you think that made me feel, Mel? I deserved better than that, as your friend and as your fiancé.”
“You did. And I owe you an explanation. Do you remember the one night we spent together before you deployed on your first tour?” I dip my chin once in acknowledgment. While we had both agreed to wait until we were married before getting physical, the night before I left, we gave in to our temptation.
“When you were gone, there was a small moment in time when I thought I was pregnant, and it scared me. I was afraid that we would end up like everyone else and get stuck in that Podunk town. We were both so young, with so much living to do. When you asked me to marry you, I hoped it would be different for us, forme. But you were off on your adventures while I was still back home, waiting. I couldn’t do it anymore.”
