AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I raise a brow at the look on his face. “Okay.”
He shuffles on the spot, pulling his shirt away from his neck. “I… I shouldn’t have kept it from you but... I saw her.” He lifts his drink to his lips and takes a huge gulp. “She came to me for legal help and I panicked. I didn’t know it was her at first, not until she turned up. If I had known then I would have told you, hell, I know now that I should have told you right after she walked out of my office, but… damn… I didn’t think it was a good idea… and now… well...”
I grab the plate of ribs I was cooking and walk toward the table, placing them in the middle and taking a few steps back toward him out of earshot of the kids. I know that what he has to say will rile me up because nothing makes Nate tongue-tied like this. He’s a straight shooter, never worming his way around a point.
“I have no idea who you’re talking about, Nate. You’re gonna have to give me a name.”
He scrapes his hand through his hair, looking off to the pool house when Amelia exits. “Something’s up with her,” he states, clearly trying to change the conversation that he just started. I ignore him, not prepared to tell him that something felt off when I gave her the package and walk back toward the table.
“Sit by me, Amelia!” Izzie shouts, patting the seat next to her. “Why are your eyes like that?” she whispers to her when Amelia is sitting down next to her.
“Oh…” Amelia stammers. “I—I erm... Got something in my eye.”
“Daddy should check it, he always checks my hurts.”
I tilt my head, studying her as I sit opposite her and Izzie. “A?” I ask, knowing that she’s been crying from the redness of
her eyes.
She looks up from the table, her eyes flitting to Nate briefly before she picks her fork up. “This looks delicious.”
I can see she’s uncomfortable and doesn’t want to talk about it, so I won’t push her, but I convey that I’m here by the look in my eyes. By the slight nod of her head, I see that she knows what I’m trying to say.
We all start eating, small chatter around the table and the atmosphere surprisingly light until Nate blurts out, “Harmony.” My head shoots up to his where he stands at the end of the table. My brows coming down low on my forehead. “That’s who I was talking about. When you mentioned Willow Arts earlier, I should’ve told you that she’d been to see me... she’s back.”
Everyone goes silent, not a word spoken as the air fizzles and cracks with tension. I know what they’re all thinking without even saying a word. They all know she’s back, but not one of them has spoken her name in front of me as of yet.
“Willow Arts? That’s where me and Clay go, Daddy!” Izzie says happily, none the wiser to the tension around the table.
“It is,” I reply, trying to keep the anger out of my voice before asking Nate, “How long ago?”
He looks away and whispers something before looking back at me, his eyes clashing with mine. “A couple of months back.”
“You mean to tell me,” I say, my voice deepening as I stand up. “That you’ve known she’s been back for months and didn’t think I should know?”
“Well… I…”
“Jesus, Nate. She’s their art teacher,” I announce, pointing to Clay and Izzie. “Had you told me when she first came back then I probably would have worked it out and not sent them there.” I lower my voice so only he can hear. “I don’t want them there anymore.”
There’s too much history, too much pain, not just between us, but in my past too.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs.
“Tristan,” Mom calls, but I ignore her, pushing my chair back fully so that I can move.
“I need to make a few calls.”
I practically run into the house and up to my office, darting for the bottom drawer in my desk where I keep it along with the envelope that has been sitting there for years, still unopened.
Pulling it out, I look at the old photograph of me and her, standing at the bottom of our tree. My arms are around her waist as she looks up at me, a smile on both of our faces as the sun sets in the background.
The same tree we used to have picnics at, the one where she would sit with her back against the trunk, drawing whatever was in front of her.
I could sit there for hours and watch as she got lost in her art, in the beauty of the colors that surrounded us. I can remember the way that her tongue would dart out and swipe along her bottom lip when she was concentrating; the way a v would form between her brows and the huge smile she’d have on her face when she would show me whatever she’d created with just a pencil and a piece of paper.
It’s also the same tree that I left my heart at when I walked away from her. The same tree that started all of this, that put all of the pain I’m feeling inside into motion.
I run my finger down her face on the photo, wishing it was her skin that I was touching before I throw it back into the drawer like it burned me.
