More unfortunate was that Fae had decided to take her attack further and printed out copies of her short love story about Joe Ronald, handing them out like bright orange fundraiser flyers in their high school.
Most unfortunate was that Joe Ronald was clearly Ronnie, the sophomore jock with light brown hair and blue eyes who once nodded his head at Tilly in the hallway and left an echoing imprint that only a teenage girl could spiral from.
The humiliation was devastating. Ronnie himself laughed it off and, to his credit, was never unkind to her.
It was years later, after her divorce and relocation to Salem, that she felt her heart jump to her throat when one night on Jen's couch with a bulbous glass of red wine in one hand and fuzzy slippers on her feet as they read and ate pizza, she clicked into her dating profile to find he matched with her.
The Ronnie from high school.
After fifteen seconds of panic and then a glorious few minutes of adrenaline-pumping glee when she matched back with him, she told Jen about the boy she'd had a crush on in high school.
They laughed and giggled, emulating that teenage girl she once had been, and Jen encouraged her to get the ultimate revenge on a sister that Jen called 'Satan's asshat'.
And then she and Ronnie dated for seven months.Datedended up being too confident a word for what she realized a month after it ended was him manipulating her with words and that his actions didn't match.
Where some men lie to women by saying they're looking for something serious to benefit their immediate needs, Ronnie did the opposite.
He told her that he wasn't looking for anything serious, that he wasn't in a place to settle down, as his travel blog was starting to take off. But he liked her. He told her he did, anyhow. And he wanted to spend time with her.
So, he made it clear that he wasn't looking for commitment. But his actions? Oh, his actions were a different story altogether.
What started as a breezy weekly hangout turned into three times a week, nights spent over at her small place filled up with sex and food, and conversation that veered on the deeper side of things. He would ask about her childhood. Her relationship with her parents and sister. He shared about his single mom and older brother.
When he asked if he could take them on a weekend getaway to Bar Harbor, she'd felt something shift. Something big and good. They'd spent the weekend in a seaside cottage, never once leaving to explore the small Maine town.
Now and then, when she sits still long enough, she thinks back to that weekend of sun-splashed pine wood floors in the middle of summer with the air conditioning cranked so cold that they sat on thick rugs in front of a crackling fireplace eating takeout and listening to playlists, even laughing about her high school short story that starred him.
Makes me feel kind of like a god being memorialized in words from an adoring freshman.
It had put a late band-aid over a long-ago wound.
But now, with context, she understood it for what it was. He liked the pedestal she put him on, starting at such a young age and leaving an impression so deep that resurrected years later made him truly feel like a god.
Had she treated him as one? Her a mere mortal who was lucky to be looked at by him?
Exactly one week after that weekend, when she had started thinking of more and a future, of athem... he stopped talking to her.
It had been tricky because he never changed his stance on not wanting anything serious with her. Not verbally. He didn't lie to her.
Not with his words.
A text with minimal explanation, no apology and arriving just when she'd started smiling into her coffee again.
Her sister's response to her pain had been unkind and unsurprising.
Tilly clenched her jaw at the text on her phone, bringing her back from that painful walk down memory lane. What are the chances that on the day she gets a wheel of misfortune card warning of trouble to come, both her former lover and her sister would pop back up into her life?
Fae: I think it would be nice to coordinate presents for Mom next time. You went above and beyond, and while I chose a very nice present that she will love, yours overshadowed mine and it's like I didn't even try. Which I did. It was, frankly, kind of selfish of you. It took a lot of work to find that set in the exact color that she would like. Not trying to be difficult, just check with me next time.
Tilly sighed, the sound dramatic even against the backdrop of the party.
"You okay?" Kelsea stood with head tilted and champagne glass, almost empty, daintily held in one hand.
"Yeah," she replied with a shake of her head and then a bright smile. She rarely talked about her family, and tonight was not the night to bring up the old baggage. "Who is that?" she asked.
Kelsea followed to where Tilly pointed toward a tall woman watching the room. She might not have been noticed in the crowd, except she was a stranger and dressed in a dark-tailored suit, not a shining outfit suitable for a gala.
"She looks like a federal agent," Kelsea mused.
