Chapter Eleven
“Well, I’ll be damned. Here she is, folks.” Wilson’s voice echoed through the mic, his hand directing everyone’s attention to me. “The woman that wrote a love letter to our little bar. Scarlett Carson, everyone.”
Panic immediately paralyzed me as hundreds of eyes pierced us.
Luckily, I didn’t have much time to think because Wilson’s announcement was quickly followed by a loud round of cheers. Instead, I just smiled and said “thank you” a million times.
“Scarlett, Magnolia, go get yourselves a drink. This one’s on me.” He winked, bringing everyone’s attention back to the front of the stage where he stood. “Bartender, make sure you make this one strong. We’ve got a lot of celebrating to do tonight.”
“Oh my god. That was mortifying. Can I leave now?” I joked. Kind of.
“No, it wasn’t. It was sweet. That man has waited fifty years for someone to acknowledge this place, and not only did you acknowledge it, but you also raved about it on the front page of a newspaper. Let the man celebrate you,” she insisted.
“Ugh. Fine,” I said, defeated. “At least you were right about one thing: this is way better than last time.” I grinned. The thought that maybe this would finally outshine any lingering whispers about my called-off wedding made me feel one step closer to ridding myself of that piece of my past.
“Whiskey grenadine?” She peered over her shoulder, perching herself on the bar.
“Yes, please.”
Magnolia focused on our order while I focused on the room around us, pretending to casually skim the crowd, looking for one thing—or person—in particular.
As more of the room failed my inspection, my stomach dripped with disappointment.
And then, in a split second, the disappointment was flooded out.
At the end of the bar, there was an image that I’d burned into my memory over the last couple of weeks. An image that despite my best efforts, I was desperate to see tonight.
With one leg perched on the barstool and the other relaxed on the floor, Stetson Walker was a sight to be seen.
His body was aimed at the entire row of barstools, allowing me to see him in his entirety.
He had one elbow resting on top of the bar while his hand mindlessly rubbed his chin.
The other hand gripped the stonewashed pair of jeans that covered his thick thighs.
I couldn’t help but imagine the view under those jeans, or really the view under all of it…
The casual but form-fitting white long-sleeved T-shirt did what it always did. The muscles in his biceps protruded, making his arms look similar to the rolling hills of Tennessee. And that slutty little gold chain dangling against his chest had me in a chokehold.
He wore a similar trucker hat from the first night we met. It had the same unfamiliar logo patched on the front, but instead of black, this one was a hunter green, the color making his brown hair pop as it flowed out from underneath.
I was eager to find his eyes, but also a little hesitant. Afraid that the depth of his gaze might be enough to give away my poker face. They always say the eyes are a window to the soul, but in this case, his eyes weren’t just a window, they were a door. One I wanted to walk right through.
“Earth to Scar!” Maggie’s voice chimed in my ear. “A whiskey grenadine for the woman of the hour.”
“Hilarious,” I said, nonchalantly turning my attention back to her while keeping Stetson in view behind her. “But thank you.”
“May I ask what you were so intently looking at?” Her eyes glistened as she pulled her glass to her lips, trying to hide the smirk she was wearing.
“I wasn’t looking at anything. I was just scoping out the room, seeing who all was here tonight.”
She scrunched her face, squinting her eyes in my direction.
“What?” I asked defensively.
“You’re a horrible liar.”
“I am not.”
Maggie spun her barstool around until she was looking right at Stetson, then twisted back to look at me, an expression of conviction painted confidently on her face.
“Oh my god. Fine. I was curious to see if he was here. That’s all.” In an attempt to preserve my dignity, I kept going. “I haven’t seen him since we talked at Rolling Meadows, and I just thought that maybe he decided not to stay in town after all.”
“Would that have disappointed you?” she asked. “If he decided not to stay?”
My mind wanted my mouth to say no, but the sinking feeling in my stomach said otherwise.
“No,” I said, trying to be convincing but failing miserably.
“Remember what I said earlier? You’re a horrible liar,” she emphasized.
I brought the orangish liquid to my lips in an attempt to buy myself some time, but I couldn’t help letting out a nervous giggle.
“Who am I? Never would I have acted like this with Zane. I’m not allowed to be worried about the whereabouts of some guy, especially some guy like him.
” I shifted my eyes toward Stetson. “I need to focus on myself and my career before getting involved in anything. I was literally walking down the aisle like nine months ago. And honestly, it’s a little embarrassing to be assuming that a man like him would have any interest in someone like me when he could quite literally snag any person he wanted, especially in this bar.
” That last thought had a pool of jealously puddling in my chest. “My god. I’ve lost control of my own thoughts. ”
“Or maybe you’ve finally just released control and stopped forcing yourself down a path that fits a mold to try to prove a point.” She sipped her drink. “And have you ever thought that maybe there’s a reason Zane never made you feel this way?” Her eyebrows perked up from behind her glass.
“Wow. All right, why don’t you tell me how you really feel…” I responded, taken aback by the bluntness of her comment.
“I’m sorry, Scar. It’s just I can’t sit here and let you sabotage the rest of your life because things haven’t gone as planned.
I love you so much and I want you to be happy.
Over the course of the last few months, I’ve started to see a Scarlett I haven’t seen since before Zane, and I don’t want you to lose that version of yourself while you’re busy punishing yourself for shit you can’t change. ”
I stood silently.
“It’s not that easy, Maggie. If I could get over everything and move on, don’t you think I would’ve done that a long time ago?” I asked, a little annoyed at this point.
We weren’t talking about Zane or the wedding anymore; we were talking about a much bigger heartbreak.
“You can’t move on when you’re standing still.”
“That’s not fair. I tried to move on. What do you think I was doing with Zane?”
She cocked her head to the side. “You know better than anyone that life isn’t fair, and you also know that what you were doing with Zane wasn’t moving on.”
I squeezed my eyebrows together, silently asking for an explanation.
“That was you trying to check the boxes because you thought if you settled for something less than you deserved, then maybe in some weird way you’d find the forgiveness you’ve been chasing for thirteen years.”
I dropped my head because we both knew what she was saying, and we both knew she was right.
“If you don’t think I’ve spent the last thirteen years of my life trying to move on, then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.
I wake up every single day trying to figure out how to forgive myself, and every day I manage to fail,” I explained, still hanging my head because the tears were building and I was already embarrassed enough at this bar as it was.
“Scar.” Her hand secretly laced together with mine under the bar.
“I’m not telling you to move on in the sense that you need to forget about everything.
I understand that what you’ve been through isn’t something you can forget, it’s something that will always be a part of you, a big part of you.
In fact, in order to move on, I think you have to continue to carry it with you, but instead of letting it make you feel guilty, you need to use it to push you forward, push you toward a life that is both fulfilling and happy. ”
It was like we were two drunk girls having a heart to heart in the bathroom. Except we weren’t drunk. Or in the bathroom.
Maggie squeezed my hand.
I hadn’t looked up yet, because I was still trying to let myself sit with my emotions while keeping it together. But despite my rude-ass comment earlier, Maggie knew me better than anyone, so she was well aware of what I was doing.
“Do you wanna go to the bathroom?” she whispered.
My head swept back and forth.
“I’m really trying, Mags,” I said, dragging my head up and pulling in as much air as I could.
“I know. But it’s my job to remind you of who you are and what you deserve because you tend to forget. A lot.” She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, especially here, on a night like tonight, but I’m glad I said what I said.”
“I’m glad you did too,” I admitted.
Maggie could be frustrating sometimes, but mostly because she was always so insightful and wasn’t afraid to tell it how it was, even if it was hard to hear or not the perfect timing.
“And Scar?” She pulled us apart but kept me within arm’s reach. The look on her face had shifted from sympathetic to smug. “Sometimes the heart wants what it wants. You can’t fight it forever.”
A soft smile creeped out. “Just so we’re on the same page, you’re the worst influence,” I said.
“Or I’m the best influence, depends on how you look at it.”
“That’s true.” I laughed, feeling a reprieve from my emotions.
“I’ve already told you this, but I’m going to tell you once more.
There are no rules when it comes to how you handle your life or your relationships.
Who gives a fuck what other people think.
I know this town is small, but you’ve got to do what you want to do.
And if I’m being honest, the chemistry between you and Zane was gone long before the wedding was. ”