2. Mabel
mabel
. . .
There's nothing quite like the taste of victory mixed with someone else's marital disaster to make a girl question her life choices.
"And that, Aidan, is why I will never, ever get married," I announce, dropping the freshly signed divorce papers onto my desk with a satisfying thud. "The Halloran case is officially closed, and so is my interest in holy matrimony."
Aidan leans against the doorframe of my office, his perfectly tailored suit making my sensible pencil skirt and blouse look like I dressed in the dark. He sips his coffee with an infuriating smirk.
"Mabel Maxwell, relationship cynic extraordinaire," he says, shaking his head. "You know not all marriages end with someone throwing the other's clothing into the swimming pool while screaming about hidden OnlyFans accounts."
I snort, organizing the Halloran file for archiving. "No, sometimes they end with someone's vintage record collection being used as frisbees on the front lawn. Or with secret second families in Wisconsin. Or?—"
"Or with seventeen years of happiness like me and Marcus," Aidan interrupts, his wedding ring catching the light as he gestures. "You're looking at the exceptions, not the rule."
"I'm looking at reality," I counter, pushing a strand of auburn hair behind my ear. "I've got a dissertation to finish and dogs to feed. The last thing I need is to waste time on another relationship that's going to implode in my face."
Aidan's expression softens. "You'd feel differently if you met the right person."
Something twists in my chest—that familiar ache I try to ignore. "Maybe I already met the right person, and it still flopped spectacularly."
"Wait, what?" Aidan straightens, coffee forgotten. "Who? When? How have I never heard about this?"
I wave him off, already regretting the admission. "Ancient history. Like prehistoric. Dinosaurs-were-witnesses ancient."
"Mabel—"
"I have a client meeting in twenty minutes," I say, gathering my notes and laptop. "And I can’t afford to be late. If this case goes well, I may be able to make partner next year."
As I hurry past Aidan, he calls after me, "This conversation isn't over, Maxwell!"
I know it isn't. But some failed romances are better left buried—especially when you've just moved to a small town where running into your past is starting to feel dangerously likely.
I swear I can feel Aidan's curiosity boring into my back as I stride down the hallway. That's the problem with best friends—they can smell emotional baggage from a mile away, and Aidan's got a particularly sensitive nose.
The elevator doors close behind me, and I exhale.
Seventeen floors of blessed silence before I have to be "on" again.
I check my reflection in the polished metal wall, tucking a stray hair back into place.
Portland's top divorce attorney can't look like she's been through an emotional wringer herself.
My phone buzzes. Aidan, of course:
We're having drinks tonight. Non-negotiable. I need ALL the details about this mystery man.
I roll my eyes and type back:
Can't. I have a brief to finish.
His response is immediate:
Liar. You submitted your brief yesterday. 7:00 pm at Cassidy's. I'll bring tissues and tequila.
The elevator doors open, and I step into the lobby, cursing under my breath. This is what I get for having a colleague as a best friend—he knows my schedule better than I do.
My client, a tech executive whose husband thought their prenup was more of a suggestion than a legally binding document, is already waiting. I paste on my professional smile and extend my hand.
"Mrs. Whitaker, thank you for coming in."
Two hours later, I've outlined a strategy that will ensure Mrs. Whitaker keeps her company shares and her dignity.
As she leaves, visibly relieved, I feel that familiar rush—the certainty that I made the right choice focusing on my career instead of chasing some romantic fantasy that would inevitably disappoint.
Back in my office, I try to focus on my next case, but my mind keeps drifting to Cedar Bay. To Cole Bennett and his stupidly perfect smile. To promises made under a summer sky that neither of us could keep.
"Knock knock." Aidan appears, dangling my coat from one finger. "It's 6:45, and I'm not above physically dragging you to Cassidy's."
"I hate you," I mutter, but I'm already shutting down my computer.
"You adore me," he corrects. "And you're going to adore me even more after you've unburdened your soul and I've provided sage wisdom about your love life."
"My non-existent love life."
"Exactly the problem we'll be addressing." He loops his arm through mine. "Now, let's go unpack whatever trauma has you convinced that every relationship is doomed to end with someone's belongings being thrown off a balcony."
As we step outside into Portland's persistent drizzle, I wonder how much to tell him. About Cedar Bay. About Cole. About how sometimes the right person comes at the entirely wrong time.
Cassidy's is crowded for a Wednesday night, which means we have to shout over the din of happy hour warriors drowning their workday sorrows. Aidan secures us a corner booth while I order—whiskey neat for me, something with too many garnishes for him.
"Alright," he says once we're settled, leaning forward like he's about to interrogate a hostile witness. "Spill. Who broke Mabel Maxwell's heart so thoroughly that she swore off love forever?"
I take a generous sip of whiskey, letting it burn away my better judgment. "His name was Cole Bennett. Is Cole Bennett, I assume, unless he's died tragically, which would be just my luck."
"Details. Age, occupation, reason for spectacular failure."
"High school sweetheart." The words taste bitter. "We were going to conquer the world together. He'd build houses, I'd practice law in some charming small town, and we'd live happily ever after in domestic bliss."
Aidan's eyebrows climb toward his hairline. "That sounds... nice, actually. What went wrong?"
"I got accepted to Portland State.” I trace the rim of my glass with one finger. "Full scholarship. The opportunity of a lifetime. And Cole...Cole wanted me to stay."
"Ah." Aidan sits back. "The classic small-town-girl-big-city-dreams dilemma."
"He said we could make it work long distance. That love would be enough." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "I was eighteen and terrified that if I didn't leave right then, I'd never leave at all. So I chose my future over our future."
"And now?"
"Now I'm exactly where I planned to be. Successful, independent, answering to no one.
" The whiskey isn't helping with the hollow feeling in my chest. "Cole probably married some sweet local girl who never wanted to leave Cedar Bay.
They probably have three kids and a golden retriever and argue about whose turn it is to take out the garbage. "
Aidan studies me with those annoyingly perceptive eyes. "You don't know?"
"Know what?"
"Whether he's married. Whether he's happy. Whether he ever thinks about you." He signals for another round. "Mabel, honey, in the age of social media, ignorance is a choice."
I drain my glass. "Some choices are self-preservation."
"Or avoidance," Aidan counters, accepting his ridiculous cocktail from the server with a wink. "You've built your entire personality around being unattached and unaffected, but you're still avoiding looking up one guy from your past? That's not preservation, that's fear."
"I'm not afraid," I snap too quickly. "I'm practical. What good would it do to know? If he's happily married with a perfect life, I feel like crap. If he's miserable, I feel guilty. There's no winning scenario here."
"There's truth," Aidan says. "And closure."
I stare into my fresh whiskey. "I had closure. Twelve years of it."
"Says the woman who just admitted he's the reason she's sworn off relationships." Aidan leans forward, his voice softening. "Mabel, you've been my friend for five years. In that time, I've seen you go on exactly three dates, all of which you sabotaged before dessert arrived."
"That dentist talked about gum disease for forty-five minutes," I protest.
"And you asked him detailed questions about abscesses!" Aidan throws his hands up. "You've turned rejecting potential partners into an art form."
The truth of his words stings more than I'd like to admit. I deflect, the way I always do. "Not everyone needs a partner to be complete."
"Of course not. But you're not avoiding relationships because you're fulfilled being alone. You're avoiding them because you're still hung up on the boy who wanted you to stay in Cedar Bay."
I feel suddenly exposed like he's reached across the table and peeled back my carefully constructed armor. "That's ridiculous. It was a teenage romance."
"That apparently ruined you for all men." Aidan sips his drink, watching me over the rim of his glass. "So what really happened? There has to be more to the story than 'I got into .'"
The whiskey has loosened something in me, some tightly wound coil that's been holding these memories at bay. "We had a plan. We'd do long distance for four years, then figure it out. But then..."
"Then?"
"He joined the army and wanted me to follow him, delaying college until we could get established somewhere.”
“What the hell?” Aiden’s response to the news mirrors my own reaction thirteen years ago. “What did you say?
"I said I couldn't put my life on hold." The memory still makes me flinch. "God, I was so self-righteous about it. I told him I'd worked too hard to delay my future for anyone. And if he truly loved me, he wouldn't ask me to choose."
"Ouch."
"Yeah." I take another sip. "The night before I left, we had this massive fight. He said I was choosing ambition over love. I said he was trying to clip my wings. We both said unforgivable things. And then…”
"And then?"
"I left. I blocked Cole's number, his email, and everything else. Made a clean break." The words taste ashy in my mouth. "I was so sure I was right."