Page 73

“It’s nice meeting you,” I say. “Tessa and I were just heading out.”

Tessa’s eyes edge over to me. “Oh, right. I need to grab my shoes and coat.” She clears her throat, and I think she’s nervous to leave her half-sister alone with me.

Stephanie stands there, clearly oblivious to our social cues that she should just leave. I could see how uncomfortable Tessa was as she stood near the entry with her half-sister, so I decided to craft some way to get her to leave. We don’t need to go anywhere, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick walk down Main Street so we can visualize where everything is going to go.

And I have another place in mind, too.

I give Tessa a little nod, and she skips down the hallway toward her bedroom.

“Thanks for stopping by to check if we needed any help, but we’ve got it covered. It’ll be a busy couple weeks leading up to the festival,” I say, dropping another hint, but I get the feeling I need to be direct here.

Something about this woman makes me wonder whether she’s a little off her rocker. Maybe it’s the way her eyes dart around as if she’s taking in every detail. Maybe it’s the way they land on me like she’s making some accusation I haven’t quite put together yet.

“Right,” she says flatly. “I suppose you two will be spending all your time together.”

My brows dip. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what business that is of yours.”

She raises her brows and takes a step back as if I just issued a physical blow. “She’s my sister .”

“Your half- sister,” I correct.

She narrows her eyes at me into a glare. “We share a father. I just want to get to know her, but you’re always hogging her.” Her voice lowers, and I get the feeling the waterworks are about to begin. She’s starting to remind me a little of someone else I know who’s completely off her rocker.

My wife.

“It’s a difficult situation, Stephanie, and I think Tessa just needs some time to process everything she’s learned about her father,” I say, going for the gentlest possible tone. “ Your father.”

She purses her lips, and thankfully Tessa reappears a beat later. “Ready,” she announces, a little breathless as she must’ve grabbed shoes and a coat at record speed.

“I guess I’ll be going, too, then. I’ll see you soon,” Stephanie says.

All three of us walk toward the door, and once we’re outside and Tessa locks the deadbolt, Stephanie pauses in the driveway.

“It was great seeing you again,” she says, tossing her arms around Tessa. “Congratulations on the baby. Whoever it belongs to.”

Tessa deflates a little at her jab, but fuck that.

“It’s not your business,” I say tightly.

She pulls out of her hug with my girl and purses her lips. “Tessa can tell me that.”

Tessa tugs her coat more tightly around her even though it’s not that cold out here. She licks her lips and shifts on her feet, clearly uncomfortable with this conversation. Her eyes edge over to me. “I’m just keeping things quiet for now.”

“Well, we’re off,” I say, and I grab Tessa’s hand and lead her toward the sidewalk. “Bye.”

Tessa yells a goodbye over her shoulder, too, and we start walking toward town. I don’t toss a glance behind my shoulder to see what Stephanie is up to, but her car goes whizzing past us just as we turn the corner onto Main Street.

Tessa lets out a breath she must’ve been holding since she yelled that goodbye.

“What’s up with that girl?” I ask.

She shrugs and shakes her head. “No clue. She drops by unannounced when this isn’t a convenient place to just drop by, she makes little comments that only serve to piss me off, and I think she might be a little on the crazy side. Oh, and she’s totally, completely in love with you and jealous that I’m spending time with you.”

My jaw slackens and I stop walking at her words. Is that really what she thinks? “Are you serious?”

She drops my hand and turns to face me, her brows knit together in confusion at my reaction. “What?”

“You seriously think she’s in love with me?”

She raises both brows and holds up her hands as if to say, well, prove me wrong .

I shake my head a little. “She’s not in love with me.”

“You didn’t see the jealousy in her eyes when she saw that you were there and I was spending time with you?” she asks.

“Oh, I saw it,” I say, nodding. “She’s jealous of me for spending time with you . You know what she said to me when you went to get your coat?”

“What?”

I grab her hand and we resume our walk. “She said I’m hogging you. She doesn’t want me. She wants you.”

Tessa sighs. “Well now I feel bad.”

I chuckle. “Don’t. There’s something off about her, and I don’t like that she drops by unannounced. She’s veiling something with wanting to get to know her sister, but she’s got some of the same traits Savannah has and it’s both toxic and scary.”

“Terrifying,” she murmurs, and she pauses a beat. “I, uh, never told you this. I haven’t said anything to anyone, actually, but you saying she wants time with me, she’s jealous of you…”

I stop walking again as alarm creeps over me. “What is it?” We’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk on Main Street. It’s quiet on a weekday late morning. Everyone’s at work or school, but every now and again a car drives by and we stop to wave.

“I saw her Instagram page the other day, and it was filled with photos that were…familiar. Photos I’d taken with my dad at random places that meant something to us, only my dad wasn’t in them and neither was I. It was like she was standing in the exact same place I was in each of the images,” she says. “I don’t know, maybe I was imagining things. I got freaked out and stopped looking.”

“Show me,” I say.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and navigates to Instagram and then to Stephanie’s profile. She shows me a few pictures.

“I don’t know why she would be in Maple Park,” she says, and she scrolls through some more. Then she pulls open Facebook and navigates to her father’s profile. She sucks in a breath as she scrolls to some of the older photographs—ones posted more than a decade ago, even before she moved to Fallon Ridge.

And sure enough, the evidence is right in front of us. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. “What the fuck?” I murmur as I look at the images of a young Tessa next to her father in front of the pumpkin farm…the exact same photo Stephanie posted not so long ago. And the Dairy Mart, and the house in Maple Park, and the Methodist Church…photo after photo that’s a carbon copy of ones Tessa took with her dad. “It’s like she’s trying to be you.”

“She told me she’s going to school for her nursing degree, and she decided to plan a craft fair for her hometown where she still lives. Next thing you know she’ll show up pregnant and dating a football player.” She laughs, but then she slaps a hand over her mouth.

“What?” I ask.

She shifts awkwardly on her feet and snags her bottom lip between her teeth. “Oh, I uh…um—we just…” She shakes her head and holds a hand over her eyes like she’s mortified. “I just said we’re dating. Are we dating?”

“You won’t let me date you until my divorce is finalized,” I remind her, and then I pull her hand from her eyes. “But we’re definitely doing something here, Tessa. I think it’s safe to say there’s nobody else for me.”

“But I’m pregnant with another man’s baby,” she whisper yells.

I nod and press my lips together. “I know. And it doesn’t matter. I want to be with you and the baby. I want to get the fuck away from Savannah so we can be together. I want to raise that baby with you, if you’ll let me, and I want to make a life with you and her and however many more kids we’re blessed with. And a dog. And a white picket fence.” We both look across the street at the house on the corner.

It’s a gorgeous two-story white house with a balcony and a wraparound porch built in the Colonial style, and outlining the entire property is the white picket fence. It’s probably the biggest house in Fallon Ridge, and it’s situated on the corner of Main Street and Weeping Willow Lane. Just a block down Main Street to the north sits our downtown area, and a few blocks to the south is the high school.

Tessa loves this house. She’s always loved it.

When we were young, we’d walk by it and she’d tell me how someday she wanted to live there. It’s on a huge corner lot, so it has a nice yard for entertaining and the owners, Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham, have kept it up beautifully over the years. They had two kids, each a few years older than Tessa and me, and now the Cunninghams are empty nesters with grandchildren who live in different cities.

Maybe someday…

She rushes into my arms, and I simply hold her for a few beats.

“What did I ever do to deserve someone as good as you?” she asks into my chest.

“I often wonder the same thing about you,” I say, and I press a soft kiss to the top of her head.

We continue our trek toward town and spend the next hour pointing out where tables and booths and games and food are going to go. We’ve got a good handle on things, but it helps to look at the space itself instead of at a piece of paper with a sketch on it.

After we’re done, I glance at my watch and then over at Tessa. “You up for a short walk?”

She nods, and my fingers link through hers as we walk down Main Street a bit then turn toward the east side of town.

She doesn’t ask where we’re going, but it’s pretty obvious once we start heading east. We walk past the rows of houses, past the cornfields, along the river’s edge, and then we walk down the short dock leading to the scenic overlook.

We sit together on one of the benches looking out over the water—our favorite bench. The one where I asked her to go to the Homecoming dance with me when I knew I felt like we were turning into much more than friends. The one where I asked her to the prom our senior year that we never got to go to. The one where we spent hours talking about what we wanted out of our shared future as we stared out over the water.

There were a lot of places in this town I’d consider ours , but maybe none more than this bench. We had our booth at the Pizza Joint. We had our tree in the park, the one where I carved T and T. I spot the T plus T carved into the bench here, too, and think for a second what a little vandal I was just carving our letters into any wooden surface.

There are others, too—high school couples in love who came before us and after us. We weren’t alone.

I wonder if any of them are still together.

I wonder if any of them reconnected the way we’re trying to.

I wonder if any of them were ripped apart the way we were.

In some instances, I don’t have to wonder. Jennifer and Chris didn’t make it the long haul. Jamie married Andy, and they already have two kids with the third on the way. I spot the J plus K and I know Jake and Kayla broke up two days after he carved it into the wood of our bench.

But none of them matter.

All that matters is I’m here with my girl again.

She wraps both her arms around one of mine, rests her head on my shoulder, and draws in a deep breath before exhaling, like she’s letting go of all her worries, releasing them into the river.

I do the same.

We don’t tarnish the silent comfort of this place with words today. Instead, we each take something we need from this place that holds so many memories, and a short while later, we head back to Tessa’s house.

“Want lunch?” she asks.

“I’m meeting my dad for lunch in Davenport, and I have some things to take care of in town. I need to head out, but I’ll be at the window tonight.”

“I’ll be there.” She smiles, and there’s something really special about being back in the place where we can count on seeing each other at the window.