Page 10 of Whiskey and Whispers
Choices. Being an adult and making choices sucked.
“I know I should have done better,” Cat replied quietly.
She had regrets.
How she’d ended things with Tate was a huge one. Her only excuse was that she - and he - were basically just kids. Teenagers weren’t world-renowned for their decision-making skills.
Rubbing at his temple, Tate shook his head.
“Christ, I didn’t want to have this conversation with you. I didn’t want to rehash the past.”
“I just wanted to apologize,” she protested. “I wanted to say how sorry I am.”
“No, you wanted me to make you feel better about it, and I won’t do that. Frankly, I’m not surprised that you didn’t reach out. There were so many messages I left for you that you never returned. You basically ghosted me, Cat. After all that we’d been through together, you just stopped communicating. So when Mom disappeared, I honestly didn’t expect to hear from you.”
Those painful early days of her career came rushing back in full force, almost knocking her sideways and stealing all of her breath. She’d been conflicted, wanting to talk to him but never knowing what to say.
She’d taken the coward’s way out. There was no denying it. She’d justified it to herself, but in reality, she’d been a real bitch. Even her own mother had told her she was in the wrong.
“I wanted to explain it to you. I just knew I was hurting you. I didn’t want to do that.”
Tate was wearing a big smile as if something was incredibly funny.
“You didn’t want to be the bad guy,” he laughed. “You wanted to take the easy way out. You wanted everyone to say that it’s okay. We should all understand because you’re so busy and important. Well, fine. It’s okay. Do you feel better now?”
Perhaps she shouldn’t have come here tonight. Should she have foreseen that this would happen?
“Now you’re just being mean. I do really feel terrible about it all.”
“How am I supposed to respond to this?” Tate stood and glanced over his shoulder, checking that they were still alone outside and not being overheard. “What is it that you want me to say?”
She didn’t have a clue as to what she wanted him to say. She only knew that, for some stupid reason, it was important that he wasn’t angry with her. It didn’t make any sense, and she should simply drop the subject, but some force pushed her to keep going.
“I just want you to understand.”
The one thing she could always count on back then was that Tate would understand what she was trying to say. He’d understood her even when she barely understood herself.
But that was a long time ago.
“Actually, I do understand. Once I realized that you wouldn’t reach out after Mom disappeared, everything became so clear to me. I realized that you were lying about wanting to stay friends. That you never really cared about me or my family.”
“I did, too,” she replied, her tone firm. “I did care. A whole lot. I just didn’t know what to say to you.”
I still don’t. I just know that I wish I did.
“Maybe the Cat I knew in high school cared, but the new and improved supermodel version didn’t. I realized you only cared about your career and your glamorous new friends. And you know what? It was freeing in a way. I could move on, so you did me a favor, really. I should be thanking you.”
Cat stepped back, shaking her head. She couldn’t comprehend this version of Tate. So remote and unyielding. Not anything like that tender, caring lover he’d been.
“You’re so cold and bitter. I never expected that of you. Not you, of all people.”
If Tate were like this, would anything be the same? What had happened in this town while she was gone?
“I’m not cold or bitter. I’m realistic. I’m an adult. We all quickly figured out where we stood in Winslow Heights. How long has it been since you’ve been home, Cat? And not just a fly in and out for a day or two. Twelve? Thirteen years? Sorry, I haven’t been sitting around pining for you. We all have our own lives here. That must be a huge blow to your supermodel ego.”
Tears burned in the back of her eyes. Each caustic word was like a knife cutting the flesh deeply while the blood ran red. She’d thought coming back would be difficult, but she’d had no idea it was like this. Had she been too naive and optimistic? Did her other friends feel the same way but were too polite to tell her?
Worst of all…were they right?
