Page 48 of A Vintage of Regret
Opening his eyes, he met Riley’s. “Oh, you should have heard us fight.” He laughed. “At first, my mom would remind me that no lady deserved to be spoken to like that. Then, my darling mother said, ‘Thatwoman is no lady.’
“Sounds like Brea.”
“Anyway, I’m not answering Monica. She’s not worth my time. It’s a non-issue, despite being annoying. But, given everything else. I just wanted you to know.”
“Annoying’s putting it mildly,” she said. “And thank you for telling me.”
“The only thing that bothers me right now is seeing you hurting,” he said, his gaze holding hers.
Her chest tightened. She sipped her coffee to keep from saying something she wasn’t ready to voice. “You always were good at knowing when to say the right thing.”
“And you always hated admitting it.” He grinned, and for a heartbeat, the heaviness surrounding them eased.
She turned her head toward her old house again, knowing breakfast with Erin was going to be its own battle. But for now, on the Boone porch, she let herself breathe.
The smell of fresh ground coffee beans and warm cinnamon wrapped around Riley the moment she stepped inside Stone Bridge Café. The place hadn’t changed much—the same mismatched wooden tables, the same chalkboard menu with flourishes that leaned more artistic than legible, the same hum of locals greeting each other like family.
She ordered a latte and found a small corner table by the window. From here, she could see the ebb and flow of Main Street—shopkeepers sweeping their stoops, a couple of early tourists lingering outside the bakery to take pictures of the hand-painted sign. Her gaze caught on the gift shop two doors down, its front windows filled with postcards, pottery, and handmade soaps.
Stephanie’s shop.
As if summoned by thought, the door chimed, and there she was—Stephanie Wilcox, hair a little shorter now, swept back in a loose braid, wearing jeans and a floral blouse. She spotted Riley instantly, hesitated for half a breath, then made her way over.
“Well, if it isn’t Stone Bridge’s most elusive wanderer,” Stephanie said with a smile that didn’t quite hide her nerves.
Riley rose enough to give her a quick hug. “Steph. You look… good.”
“You're kind to say so, but most days I look in the mirror and all I see is tired. I’m fueled by caffeine and two hours of sleep thanks to my youngest deciding 3 a.m. is a great time to redecorate her room with finger paint.”
Riley covered her mouth and let out a snort. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh, but all I can think about is the time we thought it would be fun to paint your mother’s garage. Like a mural was all the rage, and we did so with her permanent spray paint.”
“Good Lord. We were maybe eight, and my mom didn’t know whether to skin us alive or burst out laughing because our masterpiece looked more like a penis than a rocket.” Steph shook her head. “Mind if I sit for a minute?”
“No. Please, join me. That is, until my sister arrives. Erin still believes that being a half hour late is in the window of being on time.”
“Sounds like your sister.” Steph slid into the chair across from her. Her hair color was the same, but styled shorter, moresophisticated. And she carried herself with a sense of maturity that came with age and living. “I’m so sorry about your dad. It’s been such a shock to the community. He was such a sweet man. He’d wander into the gift shop, smile, and tell me a story about my past. He was so kind. I really loved that man.”
“Thank you. He always said you were unicorns and rainbows… until someone fed you sugar.”
They both laughed.
“How long are you in town?” Steph asked.
Riley hesitated. “Not sure yet.”
Stephanie glanced at her mug before looking back up. “Have you seen any of the old gang?”
“I had coffee with Sandy the other day.” Riley traced a finger along the rim of her cup. “Can’t believe she’s the Police Chief. And of course, I’ve seen Bryson. He’s the one who first got hold of me when my dad died.”
“I’ve been meaning to say this for a long time,” Stephanie said, leaning forward. “I felt like I betrayed you. Standing up for Monica at her wedding to Bryson… it wasn’t because I picked her over you. At the time, it felt like the whole town had, and I just… got swept along. But I regret it. Every damn day.”
Riley studied her, the sincerity in her voice cutting through years of distance. “Monica’s good at making people think they don’t have a choice.”
Stephanie’s mouth twisted. “I had a choice. I just made the wrong one. I don’t really talk to her anymore. Had enough of her crap a few years back. We run into each other at parties sometimes, but since I had kids, I’ve got little built-in bundles of excuses.”
That made Riley huff a short laugh. “I ran into Monica, and it wasn’t pretty. Bryson was there. We had words. She treated me like sloppy seconds. Shoved her big ass boobs practically in theman’s face. Bryson looked like he wanted to die, but it was at the tasting room, so he had to be polite.”
“He’s usually kind.” Steph leaned forward. “Except, once, he got really drunk and told her off… in front of the whole town… including her mom. Everyone clapped. It was awesome.”
