Page 3 of Whiskey and Whispers
Cat Townsend had been Tate’s first and only broken heart, but he’d learned quickly that the promises made in the dark were the first ones forgotten in the light of day.
Or better yet, in the bright spotlight of fame.
Tate was far from the young man he’d been back then. He was older, wiser, and he wasn’t about to fall for a pretty face ever again.
Not even hers.
Two bedrooms? Or three? And what about a bathtub?
Cat didn’t take a lot of baths, but there were times she wanted to. If she bought a house without a bathtub, she wouldn’t have the option anymore. Was it a deal breaker? She wasn’t sure. She’d purchased an apartment in New York City several years ago, and she hadn’t had this much angst about it. She hadn’t fussed over the tiles or the size of the closets or the color of the kitchen cabinets.
Maybe she cared more this time because this move felt likemore.More permanent. More serious. She wasn’t going to be spending all her time traveling. She’d been spending the vast majority of her time at home. It was important that she get this right.
“You need to relax,” her mother said, pouring herself a cup of coffee and placing two chocolate chip cookies on a plate before sitting at the small breakfast nook table. “You don’t need to be in such a hurry to find a house. You can stay here as long as you want.”
Yes, Cat could live here with her mom. They got along fine, never arguing or always respecting each other’s space. They’d long ago managed that difficult transition of parent-child toparent-child-but-also-friends. They wouldn’t have survived the last eighteen months in New York City unless they had.
“I’m a grown woman, and I should have my own home,” Cat replied. “I think we both need our own space.”
“But close by,” her mother said with a smile.
“Close by,” Cat echoed. “Although in this town, I couldn’t be far away if I tried.”
Winslow Heights was no New York City, and that was fine with Cat. She was looking forward to a less hectic pace. At this point in her life, a small town held far more appeal than a bustling metropolis.
“You should look for something close to the downtown area. You’ll be close enough to walk almost everywhere. The bookstore, the new movie theater…Tate’s place.”
Tate’s Tavern. The local establishment owned by Cat’s high school sweetheart. Talk about awkward.
“I won’t be hanging out at Tate’s, Mom.”
“Everyone does,” her mother argued. “He has the best cheeseburgers in town. And how are you going to avoid him? Winslow Heights isn’t that big.”
Cat’s mother, Grace Townsend, hadn’t brought up Tate Winslow in years. Many years. It was strange to hear her talk about him now, although not totally surprising. Cat would, at some point, run into him. Sooner rather than later, too.
“I’m not going to avoid him. I’m just not going to seek him out. There’s a difference.”
That was her story, and she was sticking to it. She didn’t want her mom to know that, since the day she’d decided to move back home, Tate had been in the back of her mind on a daily basis. He’d been living rent-free in her head for months.
It would have been strange not to think about him, though. Right? When she’d lived here in her youth, he’d been such ahuge part of her life. First, simply her friend, and then later her boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
Such a tame description for what she had felt for him. Was there any love stronger or that burned brighter than a young girl’s first love? She didn’t think so.
It had all been so exciting, and she’d been so fucking naive. She’d thought that life was easy back then. That it would all go her way by sheer force of will. She could have it all and then some. She hadn’t known that life would fight back, break her heart, make her laugh and cry, frequently at the same time.
She hadn’t known that some days simply surviving would be all she could do. Triumphs were special because they were few and far between, and they required a hell of a lot of work and sacrifice. That had been a word she hadn’t known much about at eighteen -sacrifice.Like most people, she’d learned the hard and painful way.
“If you’re going to the party, you’ll see him there,” her mother observed. “You can’t avoid him.”
“As I said, I’m not trying to.”
“You’re going then?”
“Yes, I was planning to. Josh and Rachel have been planning this party for over fifteen years.”
Rachel and Josh had been dating since middle school, and they’d always said they wanted a big blowout party on their tenth anniversary.
