Page 11 of The Life We Left Behind

“Are you even listening to me?” the voice hissed.

Shaking off the haze of doubt and grief, I turned to see Chelsea’s angry face glaring down at me. It was so strange to see this older version of her. Judging by the smudged mascara under her eyes and the sour alcohol smell now smothering me, she was on her way home rather than just getting going for the morning.

My father had told me about her engagement with Trace. At least they’d had the decency to wait until after college before she’d swooped in and taken my place at his side.

“Chelsea?”

I’d never blamed her for telling Trace about the pregnancy. She’d been so shocked when she found out, and she’d tried to get me to tell someone what was going on, but I’d been so freaked out and needed time to try to get my mind around my new reality. What had happened afterward was always going to happen. Chelsea wasn’t the one who made Trace turn away from me or his family to see me as the problem. Truth be told, that was what his mother had always thought of me. All she did was move up the timescale. I didn’t even blame her for marrying Trace. She was still here, and I wasn’t. I’d started a different life away from this place.

“I should have known you’d turn up again,” she seethed. The anger in her eyes registered with me now, along with theconfusion about what it was that I was supposed to have done. “He’s mine, Delaney. Whatever you had is done and gone. You need to leave Trace alone.”

I reared back in confusion as she leaned over me. I knew I should say something, but the realization that a lot of people were going to come to the same conclusion was something I hadn’t considered at all. What if that was what Trace thought?

“Chelsea, look, it’s not what you think. I’m just here to deal with my father’s affairs. I couldn’t care less about Trace and whatever he’s doing. As soon as I have things wrapped up, I’ll be heading back to my own life. The less time I can spend here, the better. I have absolutely no intention of getting involved with him or your marriage. Trust me, Trace Farrington has nothing that I want.”

It was the first time I’d really said the words aloud, and yet, they didn’t feel right. Not when I was sitting in this place and finally confronting the past I’d run from. Because Trace did have something I wanted.

An apology.

The problem was, I doubted I’d ever get one from him. One thing was for certain: the Trace I’d known was long gone, if he’d ever existed at all.

Chelsea glared down at me, her fists clenching at her sides, and for a moment I worried she was about to hit me. But then Marie was there, herding her away, her scoff of disappointment ringing through the air. Ten years ago, that sound would have had me quaking in my boots, and if I was honest, I could feel it now as well. Chelsea, on the other hand, didn’t seem quite as affected as she started to argue and try to push herself free as Marie opened the door for her.

“We don’t need your business this morning, Chelsea. Go home. Sober up. I’ll have words for you later, missy.”

I was still gaping in shock, staring at the door, when Marie slid a coffee and a croissant in front of me.

“Always a problem with that one recently,” she muttered as she sat back in her seat with her own breakfast in front of her.

All I could think was that I hadn’t come back for Trace but that everyone was going to assume the same thing. No matter what I said, they’d never believe anything I said as soon as Cade got here. All they’d see was a young mother standing on the Farrington doorstep with her hand held out, and that couldn’t be any further from the truth.

I’d never taken anything from that family, and I had the evidence sitting in my wallet like a morbid reminder anytime I had a weak moment and thought about coming home.

“My dad died,” I blurted out as the fear of facing the whispered judgment of the town shadowed my mind.

When I looked up and saw Marie’s face, I knew I’d made a mistake. This wasn’t something you just blurted out in front of a lifetime friend.

Her eyes filled with tears as every drop of color drained from her face. But then she surprised me because she reached across the table and grabbed my hands. “Oh, my sweet girl. I’m so, so sorry.”

I didn’t know what I’d expected, but that she thought of me and my feelings first had me shaking my head in denial. Because I wasn’t okay. There was nothing about this situation that was okay.

“He didn’t tell me he was sick. I…I’m not ready for this. I thought we had time, and now all I can think about is how I neglected him all this time to the point where he couldn’t even come to me…”

It all rushed out of me. All the grief, the guilt.

“Oh, sweetheart. No. I can guarantee you that is not at all what your father thought. He loved you more than anything. Hewas always in here bragging about how well you were doing and what an incredible mother you’ve become. He saw so much of your own mother in you, and he’s so proud of the young man that Cade is growing up to be.”

“Cade? You know about Cade?”

I looked around at the empty bakery as if I was going to find the answer to my confusion sitting at another table. Did everyone know about Cade or was this a secret my father had shared with Marie?

“Of course, I know about Cade.” She laughed, even if it was a sad one. “Your father is always in here showing me his photographs and telling me about his baseball team.”

I was so confused. All the questions were blending together in my head and every time one came to the surface, it sounded so awful and accusing. But at the forefront of my mind were the papers I’d signed, even if I was pretty sure they wouldn’t hold up in court, saying that I couldn’t tell anyone that Trace was Cade’s father.

Marie must have been able to see that I was feeling overwhelmed as she gripped my hand tighter, silently waiting for me to be able to voice what was going on in my head.

“I didn’t know everyone here knew about Cade and why I left,” I muttered quietly. “I…I don’t think I ever really knew my father at all, did I?”

---