Page 12 of It Should Have Been Me

He smiles, but I can still see his sadness. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

I decide to not make the situation worse than it is and accept his words without argument. I use both hands to wipe the moisture off my face. “Ugh...I’m a mess.”

“Is that...” Scott grabs my left hand. “Why do you still wear this?” he asks, tracing his thumb over my ring...hisring.

Crap!How did I forget to take it off? I almost roll my eyes at my own thoughts. I moved it to my middle finger, then just...forgot about it. It’s been there for years without me giving it a second thought. This blasted thing is like a piece of me now. It never comes off.

“Does yourboyfriendknow I gave this to you?”

“No,” I reply unsteadily. “He...he doesn’t know about you, Scott.”

The look that comes over his face completely shatters me. A staggered breath drops out of him as if he just got kicked in the stomach and he’s trying to breathe through the pain. His hurt is palpable, and I feel it squeezing my own chest.

“Uh...yeah.” He tries to remain indifferent, but his jaw is tight, and his hands are shaking. “Of course, he doesn’t know about me. I’m just that chapter of your life that you filed under boring before you fucked off and left me.”

My heart drops into my stomach. “Scott, that’s not—”

He’s already halfway to the door. “C’mon, let me take you home.”

* * * * *

IT’S A FORTY-MINUTEdrive from Scott’s apartment to my mother’s house, and he remains quiet the whole time. He doesn’t say one word. He doesn’t even look at me until he switches off the car.

“Listen, Cat, you didn’t come all this way just to bicker with me. Your sister is getting married. This is supposed to be a happy occasion, and I don’t want to ruin this for you...or her. So, just forget about everything that happened earlier and enjoy the time with your family. Let’s not allow our issues to take away anything from this special time. Isa and Dylan have been through a lot this year, so let’s just push our feelings aside, smile through the awkwardness, and let them have the wedding they deserve, okay?”

I nod even though I know that’s easier said than done. “Thanks, Scott. That means a lot to me.” I open the passenger door. “Are you coming in?”

“Yeah...in a bit. Just...just give me a minute.”

With a heavy breath, I push the door open and exit the car. I walk down the pathway and up the stairs of the porch that lead to the front door of my childhood home. Before I enter, I turn my ring, hiding the diamond in my palm so my family doesn’t recognize it. It should be easier to just take it off...but it isn’t.

As soon as I step in, I’m greeted by the familiar smell of my mother’s cooking. The sound of Isabella yelling is also very familiar, and I smile to myself as I close the door and make my way to the kitchen.

“I swear to God, ma, if I have to tell her one more time that Idon’twant her stupid fruit cake, I’m going to end up gouging her eyes out.”

“Maybe consider something that won’t land you in prison,” Dylan offers. “I’m still relatively keen on marrying you.”

Isabella giggles. “Wow, De Lorenzo. You know, the wordsrelativelyandkeenmake me feel like this is true love. I’m?”

She stops mid-sentence when she sees me entering the kitchen. My mother and Isa screech their excitement before charging toward me, showering me with hugs and kisses.

“You’re home,Mija,” my mother says, tears spilling from her eyes.

I’m not sure if it’s because of the exhaustion or my encounter with Scott earlier, but the way she said the wordhomehas me blinking back tears again. “I’m home, mom.”

They hold on to me for two solid minutes.

“It’s so good to see you,” Isa whispers in my ear, hugging me tighter. “We’ve missed you so much.”

It’s been almost two years since I’ve been back. I was supposed to come home last Christmas, but extremely bad weather delayed our flight for several days, and when the weather finally cleared up, it was already time for me to start a new project. I still FaceTime Isa and my mom a few times a week, but seeing their faces on a screen simply does not compare to being wrapped up in their arms like this.

“Do you want to eat?” mom asks, pulling away from me first.

“A little later, ma.”

I look around as I sit on a barstool in front of the island stove. They’ve refurbished the kitchen. The cupboards are now white, and the countertops have been replaced with sleek grey granite. It’s more modern but still has that homely feel, or maybe that’s just my mom’s presence.

“I love your hair,” Isa says, twisting a lock around her finger.

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