• Reunion - Pt. 2 •

                                    

                                              
Fey Maree
                          
The moment I stepped through the door, I knew I shouldn't have come, but it was already too late. I'd been seen.
                          
"Fey!" Ebony's voice rang out, drawing all eyes to me. 

                          
I flattened the floral print of my sundress, attempting to look some semblance of put together. I'd even re-dyed my cotton-candy coloured hair to cover up the brown roots that had been peeking through. 
                          
I'm Fey Maree, totally sane woman, not an insomniac with reoccurring nightmares. 
                          
Definitely not crazy.
                          
"I'm surprised you actually came," she whispered in my ear as she pulled me in for a hug. "Tate's next door in the kitchen if you want to see or avoid him." 
                          
The next person to pull me in for a hug was Avery, who was holding baby Pandora in his spare arm. She was so, so gorgeous.
                          
"It's been too long," Avery said with smiling eyes. "Too long." 
                          
He then gave me a look that portrayed what he wasn't saying - "I'm sorry." 
                          
I nodded, patting him arm. All was well. 
                          
Everything was going good, everyone I knew from years ago was hugging me, when suddenly the sound of breaking glass met my ears. 
                          
I froze, my eyes shooting up to find the source of the noise, and I was met with a shocked Tate who'd just dropped a glass full of ice water.
                          
"I - I -" he stammered, turning to Ebony and Avery. "You never told me." 
                          
"I'm sorry, Tate," Ebony said softly. "I didn't think you'd come otherwise." 
                          
The rest of the guests had paused, clinging to every softly spoken word exchanged. 
                          
"I should go," I confessed, the regret in my voice evident. 
                          
Why did I think this would have been just like the old days, all of us friendly and laughing. I felt like an utter idiot.
                          
I was surprised by the person who stopped me.
                          
"No," Tate interjected. "Please don't go." 
                          
"But -" 
                          
"Just stay. It's been a lifetime since we last saw each other." 
                          
"Are you sure?" I asked, still half-turned to leave.
                          
It was then, when he took a labored step forward, that I realized he was using a crutch to support himself. 
                          
"I'm sure," he agreed, nodding. "One hundred percent."
                          
He held out his spare hand, and my fingers twitched, aching to feel the rough skin of his palm against mine - aching to feel his touch again after all these years. 
                          
Hesitantly, I took it, reveling in the weirdness. 
                          
Never in a million years would I have thought I would get to hold Nathaniel William Roux's hand ever again. I also have no idea why my internal monologue just called him by his full name either - see what I mean? Weirdness. 
                          
He led me to a quiet part of the back yard, away from the prying eyes of everyone else who knew our history. Such a funny word - history - it makes you realize just how much time has passed.