“I mean it. Don’t say anything, and let me talk, okay? I asked Miles if I could tell you the whole story.”
“And?”
“He said okay. But you have to let me talk.”
“You’re scaring me, Beck. Just tell me already!”
“Shay is the mean girl.”
“What?”
“She used to be best friends with Morgan. Like you and Cee best friends. Since Deanna moved here. Then together they started making fun of some of the other girls, but Morgan stopped. Deanna intervened faster than Miles did. But Shay didn’t stop, and she turned on Morgan too. Teased her. Embarrassed her in front of other kids for being in lower-level classes—they call it grade-shaming. She was really demeaning and she even started a fistfight. It was awful. She was awful.” Beck looked away. “And the school did do something. They suspended her for a week. And the rest of the girls, including Morgan? They chose not to be friends with the mean girl.”
“I—”
Beck held up his hand. “Let me finish.”
I covered my mouth to hold everything in but wondered if I’d have the strength.
As Beck spoke his eyes filled. He stretched out his legs and crossed his arms over his broad chest, as if keeping his heart in its place. He drew deep breaths between each scene he relayed to me in detail. And how it all started when Miles and Violet got engaged.
My thoughts banged together.
A lump formed in my throat.
“Counseling has helped and she’s doing much better now. She’s coping. Sometimes she even seems like the old Shay. I won’t get into it all. That’s for Shay to talk about. But those girls don’t want to be friends with her, and no one blames them.”
“That’s how you met Deanna.” I thought I’d said it inside my head. “Isn’t it awkward?”
“Not at all. We’re adults.” I kept forgetting.
“And that’s why Cameron’s living with them.”
Beck nodded. “For backup. And moral support.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“You’re like an apparition, Teddi Bear.”
It was the first time he’d said my nickname; the sound of his voice traveled inside my head and settled there, soothing the wounds he’d just inflicted with his words about Shay, and just then, about me.
“I know no one wanted me to know. I know no one but Shay wanted me here. But I am here, Beck. I can’t just pretend things are fine when they’re not fine. I just can’t turn around and leave without trying to help.” I swallowed the irony and looked right at Beck. He gulped as hard as I did. “A lot of time has passed—you said it the other night. We’re not who we used to be. I don’t want to be the person who pops in and out of Shay’s life. Or yours. Please, help me.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes. Just like that. Forget you hate me. Forget I fucked up. Give me a break, B. For old times’ sake. Oh hell, don’t do it for me. Do it for Celia.” I turned away, looked as far off into the night as I could. Emotional blackmail wasn’t usually my style.
“Okay,” he whispered.“But there’s one thing I have to say first.” I heard Beck slide across the floor. He touched my shoulder and left his hand there, heat transferring through my blouse. “I don’t hate you.”
He removed his hand and my temperature seemed to drop.
“Shay launched a full-out FaceTime campaign to get me here to photograph the wedding,” I said. “Why did she do that if all this was going on and no one was going to tell me?”
“She wanted you to come because she has this crazy idea that her life would be perfect if you married Miles.”
I turned around quickly. Beck lurched back.
“Excuse me?”
“She wishes you were the one marrying Miles.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. Then I thought of the times in the past few days when Miles had been there with me and Shay, when I’d thought it would be just me and her. When she wanted Violet to take her for her shoes, when she disappeared upstairs during our portrait session, when she apologized for Beck showing up early.
“Damn,” I said.
“I’m just telling you what she said.”
“She thinks he’s replacing her mother, for God’s sake. She doesn’t understand that losing someone you love that much doesn’t take away your ability to love someone else just as much.”
“She’s learning. It takes time, Teddi. It all takes time.”
I looked at Beck and placed my hand on the ground. He laid his hand on top of mine. But it was different from before. His eyes were the same blue with specks of brown and his eyelashes were blond, almost invisible. As his nostrils flared, his breathing tempered. Neither of us moved closer together or farther away. After all this time it felt somehow taboo.
Simon.
I glanced away from Beck and then back.
“I should call the counselor Josie told me about, shouldn’t I?”
“You should.”
“Do you want to come in and have a glass of wine? I mean, just to relax.”
“No thanks.”
“We can talk more. Catch up. For real.”
“We have time.” Beck ran the back of his hand from the front of my neck to the back, and under my hair, pushing it behind my shoulder. I shivered. “I like your hair down,” he said. “But you knew that.”
Inside, Beck walked up a few steps, and then his footsteps stopped. I was partway down the hall leading to my room, and stopped as well.
“I know you ran out the back of Perk when you saw me with Deanna,” he said.
“I just couldn’t…”
“I’m not with Deanna, you know. We’re just friends. But even if I was, you don’t have to run away from me, Teddi. You never did.”
I turned as he continued up the stairs. Without a light, he was shrouded in the safety of darkness. As was I.
“If you weren’t with Deanna when I called, where were you?” So much for not overstepping boundaries. Old habits had a way of feeling comfortable, even when they shouldn’t.
Without stopping his climb, Beck answered me.
“A meeting.”
Chapter 15
“AND THEN HE JUST walked upstairs,” I said.
“Did you go after him?” Josie swirled a fry in a dollop of ketchup.
“No, I didn’t go after him.”
“Why not?”
“Because—I don’t know. I’m not going to chase him, Jos. He doesn’t have to tell me anything about his life. We were in a good place last night after talking about Shay and I didn’t want to ruin it any more than I already have.”
Josie sipped her iced tea and shrugged. “Men. Can’t live with ’em, can’t shoot ’em.” She laughed as if she’d come up with that herself.
As the Fat Chance Café chimes clanged their now-familiar tune, I lifted my empty teacup and turned it over. Muddled voices trickled by and colorful streaks skirted my peripheral vision. Drips of lemon verbena landed on the saucer next to the mesh teabag. The words on the china didn’t register so I replaced the cup. All I could see was that I had missed big things in Chance, and hadn’t even recognized that possibility. Like everything important had happened right outside my reach. I’d spent six years toting around Celia’s memory when people I loved might have needed me.