Fiona
IT WAS HER. THE REDHEAD I ran into from across the hall . . . she was here with him. Hanging on his arm staring at me as if I were about to throw things and scream with rage and jealousy. Her wide-eyed expression annoyed me. I could tell she wanted drama and hoped for it. Marty always picked the worst ones. Including me. I was a wreck emotionally. I’d warned him in the beginning.
Getting out of her nosy line of sight had been my goal. I had only taken a couple of steps when I saw Chantel standing off beside a yellow and pink rose garden speaking in hushed tones to Beulah Edwards . . . no, make that Beulah Richmond now. It had been Richmond for three years now. After that wedding, I hadn’t been back.
Both Beulah and Chantel turned their gazes to me and Beulah’s smile softened. She was sincere and possibly the nicest person on the damn premises. Chantel, however, looked pale. With that platinum hair of hers it wasn’t attractive. This had to happen eventually, so I sighed and decided to get it over with while I had three quarters of a bottle champagne in me.
I didn’t pause in my stride as I walked toward the two of them. I returned Beulah’s smile. It was good to see her. She was still as naturally beautiful as she had been three years ago. Even very pregnant. Which she obviously was . . . again. They’d already reproduced once. I hadn’t heard they were doing it again. Jeez, Stone liked to make kids. Was he working on a basketball team? With his son this baby would make three.
Beulah did beam with that pregnant glow I’d heard people talk about. I’m glad the Richmond’s seemed as happy as when I’d left them. It was time I faced what I had rather ignore. Chantel. My former best friend, roommate, and one person I trusted. Even more than Shay. Until Chantel decided to go to a bar with Marty one night, drank too many shots of tequila and screwed him in our apartment . . . while I was asleep. I’d found them in the living room half naked and passed out on the floor wrapped up together.
Marty and I had been broken up for a year at that point. But . . . we had started talking again. I’d admitted I still loved him. We’d even let things get carried away a couple times and ended up screwing like crazed maniacs. But I was scared of trusting him again. I had been holding him back. Not ready to move forward. Wanting him more than anything but so scared to listen to what had happened when I’d been In Italy. It didn’t matter now because that was all over.
Now that I had three years to think about it, I had come to accept Chantel didn’t realize any of that. I hadn’t told her. It had been something I wasn’t ready to share with anyone. I was afraid of it myself. But she had known how much he had hurt me. She’d been there when I finally crumpled to the floor and cried uncontrollably.
Forgiveness. It was time to forgive. We’d never be what we once were. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t ease this tension and make the weekend easier for her. And me.
“Hello, Beulah. You look stunning. Pregnancy only makes you more beautiful. I hate you for it,” I said teasingly. I turned to Chantel. “Chantel, you look good. I hope life is treating you well.”
“It’s great to see you,” Beulah said before Chantel could say anything. She was giving Chantel time to get herself together. I respected that.
“You look happier. I heard about your new career. You deserve it.” Chantel’s voice quivered, mixed with nerves and relief.
“Thanks,” I replied.
“I’ve spoken to several of the models you’ve worked with. They can’t sing your praises enough. I’ll admit I’m proud.” Chantel said the last sentence as if she was prepared to defend herself.
A smile tugged on the corner of my lips but I didn’t feel like a response was needed.
“I’m sorry, Fiona. I miss you,” Chantel blurted out the words as her face flushed pink.
I should have guessed she’d need to get that out there and clear the air. She had never been good with the elephant in the room. Chantel had been a fighter. Nothing scared her. She had always been tough and said what she was thinking. Until the morning I confronted her about Marty, she had never backed down. Never gone silent.
This was the Chantel I knew. The Chantel I missed.
“It’s over. Three years changes a lot. Truth is, you saved me from a mistake. I don’t hate you for that. I did then. I hated everyone. But not as much as I hated myself. I hated my insecurities. My damage,” I paused as a server appeared to my left with a tray of champagne flutes with strawberries floating inside the pink bubbly. I grabbed two and handed one to Chantel. “Drink. We both need it.”
Chantel took the glass from my hand. Her eyes cut to Beulah. “I feel bad drinking in front of you but she’s right. I could use this.”
Beulah laughed. “Don’t be. I swore I’d never drink with you again after the night in Stone’s apartment. I woke up feeling like I was dying, and you walked out looking like you were about to step onto the cover of a magazine.”
Chantel grinned. “I hold my alcohol better. I’ve had practice.”
“She’s right.” I turned to the server who was about to walk off. “Hey, wait, we need two more of those.” He stopped and held out the tray with an amused gleam in his eyes. I took another flute and so did Chantel.
“Drink up,” I said throwing back the glass in my left hand. Chantel did the same. Beulah watched on, giggling.
“Y’all don’t go getting hammered at my party! I’ve seen the two of you drunk more times than I can count and I can’t afford the damage it will cause,” Shay called out from across the courtyard.
Chantel’s perfect smile displaying her white straight teeth was familiar. One that reminded me of happier times. Moments when my life was easier. Simpler. A time when I didn’t question everyone around me and their motives the way I did now.
“We’re just getting in the party spirit,” Chantel responded to her.
“Mack, watch them or we will have strippers on the table before dessert is served,” Shay said as she walked toward her fiancé and closer to us.
“Hey! Don’t go stopping the fun before it begins. Make this weekend memorable,” a guy I didn’t recognize said. He slapped Mack on the back as if this had just become his bachelor party.
“Shut up, Cort. No one asked you. I was talking to my man,” Shay said with a roll of her eyes.
“Free entertainment, Shay. Don’t knock it,” Cort argued. His gaze shifted back to us and he winked. At me or Chantel I wasn’t sure. Didn’t matter. Cort was not my type. Nor was his humor.
“We should have gotten three,” Chantel muttered.
“They’ll be back around,” I replied.
“I missed this. Y’all like this,” Beulah’s tone was happy. As if this mattered to her as much as it did to us. And I knew it did. Because these were my friends. The people I’d trusted. The people in my life I had lost suddenly. When you are away from it you forget the feeling of home. You grow accustomed to the emptiness.
Without warning my eyes moved across the guests until they found Marty. I hadn’t done it on purpose. My eyes did it without me thinking about it. His head turned sharply and those eyes locked on mine. We wouldn’t be ending the night with champagne and smiles. There was no forgiveness there.
Bridges can be burned and repaired. Sometimes they’re burned beyond redemption.