Page 5 of Strictly Business

While I’m gone? Am I going somewhere?

Caitlin opens the door where Bella stands, her hand raised to knock. “Oh! Hello, Bella.”

“I tried to phone you, but you didn’t answer,” Bella says past Caitlin. “Your mom called. She wanted to remind you about the party for your dad and Uncle next weekend.”

“Fuck, I forgot,” I sigh.

“She said you would, that’s why she called.”

“Did I book that flight?”

“A while ago.”

“I need to buy them something, I don’t even know what to get. What do fifty-something men want?”

“To see their daughter and niece,” Caitlin answers. “You haven’t been home in almost a year, so I think seeing you would be a gift enough.”

I haven’t seen much of my family since the wedding last year. Normally, we’d split the holidays between our families, Thanksgiving with one, and Christmas with the other, but last year we were in Richmond for both.

“I’ll just ask Elizabeth, she’ll know what they want."

Caitlin rolls her eyes. “I’ll see you ladies later, Grace will have my head on a platter if I even think about being late.”

I don’t bother with a response as she closes the door behind her and Bella. When I open my phone, I find unread texts from Alex, Nick, and… David.

David? What in the hell does he want now?

Chapter Three

MICHAELA

MOST TIMES, I HATE this place, but I still miss it. I miss home. The warm feeling it brings when you drive down familiar streets and know what lies around every corner. You can turn the GPS off and coast because you know exactly where you’re going — you’ve done it over ten thousand times. The way of a stranger as you pass each other on the street, never thinking twice about it. Everything stays the same as it always has been.

I had always dreamed of leaving Bridgeport, I thought moving to would solve my problems. Things were starting to look up: David and I had been going steady for a while, I had just gotten a promotion (with a corner office), and I was finally moving to my dream city, New York! What could go wrong? Everything. Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic, but one by one, it felt like everything started to crash and burn. And now, I’m left wondering who the hell is Michaela Jane Davis?

I follow the winding road toward the back of my parents’ subdivision. Each home sits back from the road a few hundred feet on a wooded lot with at least three-quarters of an acre. Pulling into the driveway of my childhood home, I feel some of the tension melt away. The split-level home is a combination of white siding and gray bricks with a door as dark as midnight that Josh and I helped paint years ago. We may or may not have gotten into a small paint war and ended up with black smudges on us for days. Mom’s rose bushes that line the front of the house are in full bloom, and it makes me smile; she loves her rose bushes. Tending to them was one of her favorite pastimes, something neither Josh nor I picked up on. Maybe this will be good. Maybe getting away from the city will help me wade through the swamp of thoughts that have settled in my mind. Until tomorrow, when I’ll be staring one of them in the face.

Nope.

Nope, not gonna think about it right now.

I’m going to focus on how it feels good to be home. I haven’t spent much time in Bridgeport since I moved two years ago. I was never a fan of the small-town living. I suppose it’s because we didn’t get many opportunities to travel while growing up. Sure, Mom and Dad tried to treat us to different trips occasionally, but we never got to spend holidays away. Spring breaks were spent traveling to Hilton Head or Wilmington — in eighth grade, they splurged and took us to Disney World. Summers were for sports and work. Winters were for work and family.

I spent most of my childhood dreaming of living in the big city, and I don’t mean Charlotte. That was our “treat” growing up. New York City has always been the goal. Nina and I bonded over it, so when she offered me the opportunity to take over the office, it felt unreal that I’d get to live my dream.

And, it was a dream…for a while.

I don’t attribute my lackluster experience to David; I won’t give him that much credit, but a small part of me knows he has something to do with it. New York was supposed to be our fresh start. The place where we could build their lives together. But, as time went on, I found myself wishing for some of the charm of my hometown. I’d never tell anyone that. Especially not my parents. They were too excited about me moving, and then David popped the question only a month after we moved. It was everything I ever wanted... I can't stand the thought of their disappointment when they learn the truth.

My mother swings the door open before I reach the bottom step, and I’m swept into a tight embrace. “Finally!”

“Hi, Mom.”

“You’re skin and bones, MJ. Have you been eating?”

“I’m fine.”

“Patrick, look at her. She’s smaller than the last time we saw her.” I roll my eyes. She always says the same thing. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, missy. It's my job as your mother to worry about you."

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