Page 4 of Back in the Bay

"Alright," he says once we're settled, leaning forward like he's about to interrogate a hostile witness. "Spill. Who broke Mabel Maxwell's heart so thoroughly that she swore off love forever?"

I take a generous sip of whiskey, letting it burn away my better judgment. "His name was Cole Bennett. Is Cole Bennett, I assume, unless he's died tragically, which would be just my luck."

"Details. Age, occupation, reason for spectacular failure."

"High school sweetheart." The words taste bitter. "We were going to conquer the world together. He'd build houses, I'dpractice law in some charming small town, and we'd live happily ever after in domestic bliss."

Aidan's eyebrows climb toward his hairline. "That sounds... nice, actually. What went wrong?"

"I got accepted to Portland State.” I trace the rim of my glass with one finger. "Full scholarship. The opportunity of a lifetime. And Cole...Cole wanted me to stay."

"Ah." Aidan sits back. "The classic small-town-girl-big-city-dreams dilemma."

"He said we could make it work long distance. That love would be enough." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "I was eighteen and terrified that if I didn't leave right then, I'd never leave at all. So I chose my future over our future."

"And now?"

"Now I'm exactly where I planned to be. Successful, independent, answering to no one." The whiskey isn't helping with the hollow feeling in my chest. "Cole probably married some sweet local girl who never wanted to leave Cedar Bay. They probably have three kids and a golden retriever and argue about whose turn it is to take out the garbage."

Aidan studies me with those annoyingly perceptive eyes. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Whether he's married. Whether he's happy. Whether he ever thinks about you." He signals for another round. "Mabel, honey, in the age of social media, ignorance is a choice."

I drain my glass. "Some choices are self-preservation."

"Or avoidance," Aidan counters, accepting his ridiculous cocktail from the server with a wink. "You've built your entire personality around being unattached and unaffected, but you're still avoiding looking up one guy from your past? That's not preservation, that's fear."

"I'm not afraid," I snap too quickly. "I'm practical. What good would it do to know? If he's happily married with a perfect life, I feel like crap. If he's miserable, I feel guilty. There's no winning scenario here."

"There's truth," Aidan says. "And closure."

I stare into my fresh whiskey. "I had closure. Twelve years of it."

"Says the woman who just admitted he's the reason she's sworn off relationships." Aidan leans forward, his voice softening. "Mabel, you've been my friend for five years. In that time, I've seen you go on exactly three dates, all of which you sabotaged before dessert arrived."

"That dentist talked about gum disease for forty-five minutes," I protest.

"And you asked him detailed questions about abscesses!" Aidan throws his hands up. "You've turned rejecting potential partners into an art form."

The truth of his words stings more than I'd like to admit. I deflect, the way I always do. "Not everyone needs a partner to be complete."

"Of course not. But you're not avoiding relationships because you're fulfilled being alone. You're avoiding them because you're still hung up on the boy who wanted you to stay in Cedar Bay."

I feel suddenly exposed like he's reached across the table and peeled back my carefully constructed armor. "That's ridiculous. It was a teenage romance."

"That apparently ruined you for all men." Aidan sips his drink, watching me over the rim of his glass. "So what really happened? There has to be more to the story than 'I got into .'"

The whiskey has loosened something in me, some tightly wound coil that's been holding these memories at bay. "We had a plan. We'd do long distance for four years, then figure it out. But then..."

"Then?"

"He joined the army and wanted me to follow him, delaying college until we could get established somewhere.”

“What the hell?” Aiden’s response to the news mirrors my own reaction thirteen years ago. “What did you say?

"I said I couldn't put my life on hold." The memory still makes me flinch. "God, I was so self-righteous about it. I told him I'd worked too hard to delay my future for anyone. And if he truly loved me, he wouldn't ask me to choose."

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