Yardley

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Bryony stands in my office doorway the next morning, her hands wrapped around her mug.

I smirk. “If that’s your way of telling me I look like shit, I think you have your answer.”

“Your words, not mine.” She blows a cool breath across the top of her steamy coffee. “How you doing though? You feeling better?”

My gaze flicks onto hers from across the room. “Do I look like I’m feeling better?”

“You want honest or sugarcoated?”

I wave my hand. “It doesn’t matter. Just feeling embarrassed more than anything. Trying not to feel sorry for myself, but now that I’ve had some time to wrap my head around what I just did, I’m so upset with myself.”

“Don’t be. It won’t change anything.”

I start my computer, glancing at the clock on my desk. I was ten minutes late for work this morning, which marks the first time ever, but I finally got to sleep around four in the morning and found it nearly impossible to wake up as soon as my alarm went off at six.

“Morning, girls.” Mom brushes past my sister, taking a seat in one of my spare chairs, her bushy blonde hair bouncing as she moves. Crossing her legs, she grins at both of us. That’s Mom. Perpetual optimist, owner of a constant good mood. Too bad those genes didn’t transfer. Sure could use them now. “I want in on whatever you’re talking about. I miss the days when you two used to sit around the kitchen gossiping about friends and boys.”

Her smile fades for a second. I imagine she’s thinking of the time before Dad died. When we had everything three Devereaux girls could ever possibly wish for. We were happy and loved and had our entire lives ahead of us.

Now Mom spends most of her days holed up in the back of The Sew Shop. At night she makes herself a Lean Cuisine, watches the news, and reads her library books, silently waiting for the day when she might become a grandmother.

Hope she’s not holding her breath.

Bryony is a perpetual girl-about-town with zero desire to settle down, and my prospects are pretty slim for the time being.

“Nevada’s back in town,” Bry tells Mom.

Four little words. Life-changing consequences.

My stomach twists, growling. I tried to eat this morning, but I couldn’t. Ever since leaving the Conrad mansion last night, I’ve been struck with perpetual nausea.

“No kidding?” Mom’s blue eyes widen as she turns to me. “Nevada as in that boy you used to date?”

That boy you used to date …

No one truly understands how much he meant to me. Not even my own mother.

I nod, biting my lip. “That’s the one.”

“Have you seen him around yet? Talked to him at all?” she asks. The hopeful expression on her face tells me she has no idea how bad things got after I did what I did back in high school. Then again, I tried to keep her and Dad out of everything. They didn’t exactly approve, but they couldn’t have stopped me.

The front door chimes and Bry leaves to tend to the first customer of the day.

“I’ll fill you in another time, Mom, okay?” I don’t know if I could stomach rehashing everything out loud this early in the morning.

“Of course.” She studies my face for a moment before rising and heading to the back.

Checking my emails, I respond to one of our suppliers before clearing out a few pieces of spam. I realize I’m all caught up for the week. Payroll is done. Our first quarter profit and loss is finished and off to our accountant. Supplies are purchased.

I have nothing to do today but stare at my computer, and I’m not sure that’s the best thing for me right now.

Slumping back in my chair, I swivel to the side before resting my chin on my hand. I should visit Greta. I haven’t seen her yet this week, and she’s probably wondering where I’ve been. The grandmother of an old friend, she’s been living at the independent living facility for the last five years, and with all her family dead or long gone, I’m the only thing she has left around here.

I should take her out to lunch today, get her out of that place for a couple of hours. She’d like that.

Gathering my purse and slipping my jacket over my shoulders, I shut down my computer and head up front to tell Bry I’m taking a personal day, only I come to a hard stop when I catch a glimpse of our three patrons.

Doreen Kane.

And Nevada’s daughters.

Nevada’s mother smiles as she hoists the baby on her hip and the older girl runs circles around the front of the shop, hiding behind mannequins and playing with some of the display dresses hanging from the hooks.

I’m seconds from retreating into the hallway when I’m spotted.

“Yardley!” Doreen waves at me, grinning ear to ear. Back when we dated, Nevada never wanted to bring me around his family. He was embarrassed of their living conditions and he always painted his mother as some stressed, overworked single mom who didn’t have time to entertain his friends or give a rat’s ass about his personal life. I guess people change. Or time changes people. Money changes them too.

Doreen looks nicer than I remember. Her hair is cut into a sleek bob and she’s lost some weight. She wears lipstick and carries a designer bag. A Mercedes SUV is parked outside the front of the shop, the plates reading NEVSMOM.

I’d seen it around town for years, always expecting our paths to cross eventually, but it never happened.

“Hi, Doreen.” I amble toward her, extending my hand, which she waves away in favor of a side hug. The powerful scent of pricey perfume mingles with a hint of baby powder, and I nonchalantly pull in a lungful of a slice of Nevada’s life. “Good to see you.”

“How have you been?” she asks, eyes wild as she grins. I’m not sure why she’s so excited to see me. “I’ve seen you around town, but I never really had a chance to talk to you. It was always in passing.”

Really?

“Anyway, you know Nev’s back in town, right?” she asks. There’s hope in her voice that doesn’t belong, but I’ll let Nevada be the bearer of bad news if it comes to that.

“I heard.” I force a smile that sends a physical zing of pain to my chest. My eyes burn, a mix of hurt and embarrassment, but I blink it away. “How is he?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, just fixing up that old mansion. He and the girls are moving in next month. For now they’re staying at my place. I bet he’d love to see you sometime? I’m trying to tell him to reconnect with old friends. He might as well now that he’s back.”

Bryony and I exchange panicked glances. I can only imagine the look on Nev’s face if his mother were to bring me home. I wouldn’t do that to him.

“Anyway, these are his little angels,” she says, twisting her body around until she finds Lennon in the store front window. She’s trying to reattach the hand of one of our mannequins. “Lennon, come back here. Don’t mess with that, baby.”

“It’s fine,” I say.

Lennon runs up to me, handing me the plastic, porcelain-colored hand. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I stare into her big green eyes, and I wonder what it must feel like for Nevada to look at his daughter’s face and see his late wife every time.

“This is baby Estella,” Doreen says, grinning before tickling the baby’s chin. “We call her Essie. She’s a dream. Sleeps through the night and eats like a champ. Just like her daddy did.”

Essie hasn’t stopped staring at me since I walked out here, and when our eyes catch, a giant, drool-y smile claims her chubby face.

She has his dimples. And his chocolate-brown hair and honey eyes. When I was younger, and I’d try to imagine what our kids would look like someday, they always looked like her.

The fact that I’m standing right across from the incarnation of my hopes and dreams, and knowing she doesn’t belong to me—to us, is heartbreaking.

“They’re beautiful,” I say to Doreen. Essie’s arms extend in my direction and she leans forward, nearly causing Doreen to lose her hold.

“Oh, my. She must want you to hold her. She never does that.” Doreen chuckles, handing over Nev’s baby daughter before I have a chance to protest.

Bryony’s stare is heavy as hell and I can only imagine all the things running through her mind right now, but I take baby Essie in my arms and try not to cry when she cups my cheeks. Her body is warm and her little dress is soft and her skin smells baby sweet.

She’s still smiling.

And my heart hurts … only not for me this time.

For her. For both of them. For Estella. For Nev.

But I know him. I know he’s an amazing father. And I know he’s going to do everything he can to give these girls everything they could ever need in their sweet little lives.

As much as it pains me, I hand her back to her grandmother. “It was nice seeing you, Doreen.”

“Likewise.” She wraps her arms around Essie, kissing her round face as the older girl dances around her, singing Ring Around the Rosy. I’d give anything to have one ounce of that carefree attitude. “You really should come by sometime. I bet Nev would love to see you.”

It’s difficult for me to look her in the eyes, but I do, and I manage a, “Sure. Maybe I’ll take you up on that sometime.”

And then I leave. I walk away before anything more can be said. I’m sure she’ll go home later today and tell Nev she ran into me. If I’m lucky, he won’t tell her about the spectacle I made last night and he won’t tell her in plain English just how he feels about me. If I know him, and I think I still kind of do, he’ll grunt a few words and change the subject.

Fingers crossed that part of him has remained unchanged over the years.

I don’t think I could handle another self-inflicted bout of humiliation.