Who We Could Be Read online

  For anyone who needs a Happily Ever After, this one’s for you...

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Epilogue

  Author bio: | Chelsea M. Cameron is a New York Times/USA Today Best-Selling author from Maine who now lives and works in Boston. She's a red velvet cake enthusiast, obsessive tea drinker, vegetarian, former cheerleader and world's worst video gamer. When not writing, she enjoys watching infomercials, singing in the car, tweeting (this one time, she was tweeted by Neil Gaiman) and playing fetch with her cat, Sassenach. She has a degree in journalism from the University of Maine, Orono that she promptly abandoned to write about the people in her own head. More often than not, these people turn out to be just as weird as she is.

  Other books by Chelsea M. Cameron:

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  Who We Could Be is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental. | No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. All rights reserved. | Copyright © 2020 Chelsea M. Cameron | Editing by Laura Helseth | Cover by Chelsea M. Cameron

  One

  Tessa

  “I can’t believe you’re getting married in a month,” I said as I licked ice cream off my arm. Monty had wrapped my cone in a napkin, but that hadn’t stopped it from dripping on me. “Shit.” Now it was on my shorts. The white ice cream looked like cum.

  “Oh my god, you’re hopeless,” Monty said, pulling a wet wipe out of her purse and attacking my face.

  “Stop it, I can do it myself,” I said, trying to slap her hand away, but only succeeding in flinging the rest of my ice cream onto the grass. “Seriously?!” I was having bad luck with ice cream today.

  “I’ll get you another one,” she said, but didn’t cease wiping me down. I glared at her the whole time, but I knew fighting would only make it worse. Plus, I didn’t want to walk around with a sticky face.

  “There,” she said, sitting back and contemplating her own ice cream, which was in a bowl with the cone stuck on top. Less messy.

  Monty didn’t like mess, which was bizarre considering that she’d been my best friend since we were five, and I have always been a walking disaster.

  I made a growling sound at her to show my displeasure at being cleaned off like a small child, but she just laughed and used my shoulder to push herself off the picnic table and went to order another cone for me. I scrubbed the ice cream off my shorts with a napkin, and then pulled Monty’s ice cream closer and grabbed a spoon.

  Monty came back and handed me the cone, but I wouldn’t look at her face.

  “Really?” she said as I swallowed the last mouthful.

  “It was melting. I had to save it,” I said, pointing at the empty bowl.

  “Fine, then I’m eating this one.” She grabbed the bowl and threw my replacement cone in it, holding it away from me.

  “No, that’s not fair!” I reached, but she was wily and slid away as families and groups of people at the other picnic tables stared at our shenanigans.

  Monty held her hand out to stop me. “Cin, I literally bought this. It’s mine.” She knew she had me when she used that nickname. It had originated from the word “cinnamon,” a nod to the color of my hair and the fact that I had gotten the spice confused with the word synonym in first grade and she never wanted me to forget it.

  “Fine,” I said, crossing my arms and sitting down.

  “Are you going to pout for the rest of the day?” She sat down next to me. A few strands of her dark hair had escaped the messy braid that lay on her shoulder.

  “Maybe. I’m thinking about it,” I said.

  Monty sighed and held the spoon out to me. “You can have a few bites.”

  I looked at the spoon.

  “Do I need to qualify what amount counts as a bite, or can you just be an adult for five seconds?” she asked, eyes narrowing from underneath an enormous hat. I was the one who should probably be wearing a hat like that, with my paler skin and freckles, but it looked better on her anyway. I wasn’t a hat person.

  “No, I can be an adult.” I took three reasonable bites and handed the bowl back to her.

  “Thank you.”

  The diamond on her left hand caught my eye as she finished off the rest of the ice cream and nibbled on the cone.

  “Are you ready? To be married and shit?” I asked. She hadn’t answered me earlier.

  “I’m as ready as I can be, I suppose. How much can you really prepare?” she said, before getting up and throwing our trash away. That was probably all she was going to say on that subject.

  I looked down at my own left hand, where a ring should be. Where a ring would be if I wouldn’t fuck up and lose Gus’s grandmother’s diamond ring that he’d slid onto my finger on New Year’s Eve of this year.

  I’d asked him if it was okay if I didn’t wear it because I was so afraid of something happening to it. Right now it was safe and snug in my mother’s jewelry box. Gus said he didn’t care if I wore it, so that was good enough for me. Maybe he could get me a cheap band when we eventually got married. Whenever that would be. I had to get through Monty’s wedding in one piece first.

  “You ready?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Yeah.” I looked up from my ringless hand.

  Monty and I walked back across the street from the ice cream stand and up the road a little way to her apartment above the coffee shop. I was still broke as hell from three years of college and no degree, so I was crashing with my parents until I got married and moved in with Gus. I’d decided a long time ago that I didn’t want to live with him until we got married and I was sticking to that.

  Monty’s place was tiny, but it was cozy, and I spent more time here than I did at my parent’s house most weeks. Even with my older three brothers moved out, it was still a lot being twenty-four and having to tell your mom when you were going to be home.

  I flopped on Monty’s couch, which we’d found at a yard sale three years ago and was covered in dark green velvet.

  “Are you still sure you don’t want to do the whole bachelorette thing?” I asked as she hung up her hat and curled her feet up in the giant armchair that my aunt and her wife had given her from their antique shop.

  “Yes, I don’t know how much more clear I can be. I don’t want to do that shit, Tessa.”

  I put my hands up in surrender.

  “Okay, okay, I get it. I just didn’t want you to regret anything later. I’m just doing my duty as MOH and BFF.” There was no one else I would have allowed to be Monty’s Maid of Honor, even if she’d had someone else in mind.

  “It’s fine. I’m just not into that,” she said, tracing a fabric bird printed on the chair.

  “I know, I know.”

  My phone buzzed with a text from Gus, just a funny meme. We had a date planned tonight, but all I wanted to do was sit on the couch and read or watch something.

  Can we just chill at your place? I asked.

  Yeah, no prob. See you at 8?

  Yup, sounds good. I thought about it for a second and then added a heart emoji, but delet
ed it before I hit Send.

  “You need to go?” she asked.

  “Nope, just hanging out with Gus later, but I’m all yours for now.”

  Then her phone made a sound and I waited as she read the message and typed out a response, her forehead contracting.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Nothing, just TJ.”

  “Has he apologized?”

  Monty sighed and shook her head.

  “Not yet. I told him that I’m not compromising on this and he can do what he wants with that.” Her fingers fluttered and she glanced down at her ring before snapping her eyes back up to meet mine.

  “Are you sure you want to marry him?” It was a question I’d asked hundreds of times in hundreds of ways.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice sharp. “Yes, I am marrying him.”

  I wanted to argue with her, but we’d had this fight before and we never got anywhere.

  “Please, can we not do this right now?” She pressed her fingers to her eyebrows, massaging, and I wondered if she was fighting a migraine.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said, getting up. “Do you need some ice?” Often if she put an ice pack on the back of her neck, it would help.

  “No, I’m fine. Just stressing about getting everything done.” Even throwing a small wedding was a monumental task, and it was almost here. She had a dress, we had a place, and in one month my best friend was going off into her new life.

  I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind and went to her cute kitchen to make her some tea.

  A set of arms wound around me and a chin sat on my shoulder.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey,” I said, pulling away to turn off the kettle.

  “You okay?” she asked. I poured the water into two mugs and added the bags of tea and turned to face her.

  “Are you sure, Ford?” I’d read about a character in a book who called people by their last names when I was younger and thought it was cool, so I’d tried it out for Monty and it had just stuck. We’d been eight at the time.

  She took the mug of tea from me.

  “Yes, I’m sure. This is what I want.” The linoleum of the kitchen floor was cool under my feet and the tea was hot in my hands.

  “I don’t believe you,” I said, voicing the words that I’d been thinking since she’d told me she was marrying TJ and that she was happy with him.

  “I don’t need you to believe me, I just need you to be there for me, Tessa.” She didn’t look happy. She didn’t sound happy. I knew her better than I knew myself and I knew. I also knew that I would never get her to change her mind. Montgomery Ford did not change her mind.

  I gave up. “I’m always there for you, Ford. Always.”

  She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

  “Thanks, Cin.”

  “HOW MUCH DO YOU THINK Ford would hate me if I threw her a surprise bachelorette party?” I asked Gus as I lay on the couch with my legs in his lap. He passed the bowl of popcorn to me.

  “I don’t know, are you enjoying being alive?” I took my eyes from the screen and met his in the glow of the television. His brown hair flopped over his forehead, forever unruly.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get your point.” I tossed a piece in my mouth and crunched. “You didn’t put enough butter on this.”

  “I could never put enough butter on it for you, Tess. If you had it your way, it would be butter with a side of popcorn.” That earned him a handful of popcorn tossed in his face.

  “Hey!” That earned me getting the bowl dumped on my head, but I deserved it. A popcorn fight ensued and then he went for my hair.

  “I will bite you,” I said as he reached. Gus and I had known each other almost as long as Monty and I, and he knew how to push each and every one of my buttons.

  He wiggled his fingers with menace and then started tossing the ruined popcorn back in the bowl.

  “I really need to get a dog,” he said.

  “You should. Oh, can we have a dog, please?” I got down on my knees next to him and clasped my hands.

  “Sure, we can get a dog. We can get as many dogs as you want.” I helped Gus gather the rest of the popcorn from the floor and we ended up just sitting there with our shoulders touching, backs against the couch.

  “You’re so nice to me,” I said with a sigh.

  “You’re not easy to be nice to. It’s a fulltime job,” he said, and I scowled, but he put his arm around me. I leaned into him and closed my eyes. Gus’s familiar scent wrapped around me. A little bit of sweat, a little bit of the natural deodorant his mother made, a little bit of fabric softener. It was a safe smell, a cozy smell.

  “Hey, you want to stay over?” he asked, and I opened my eyes.

  “No, I should get home, it’s late.” That wasn’t true, exactly, but I slipped out from under his arm and stood up. Gus rose to his feet and pulled me into a hug.

  “Text me when you get there.”

  He was so tall, I spoke into his shirt. “Gus, I live seven miles away.”

  “Still.” He let go and I headed to the door, waving as I left.

  I thought about Gus as I drove home, taking the longer way that gave me some more time before I had to deal with my parents. We had always been an unconventional couple, Gus and I. We didn’t have cute nicknames for each other, and both of us had made the promise not to live with someone or have sex before we were married. Not out of any sort of obligation, religious or otherwise, but it just seemed like a good idea. I’d made that decision in high school and he’d readily agreed. Sure, we kissed, but our relationship wasn’t about all that stuff. We got each other, and I loved him. Plus, my family loved him. He’d been part of us since the beginning. It was only natural for him to join us in a more permanent way. I’d never thought of not marrying Gus.

  I sat in my car for a minute to collect myself before I walked into my house. Donny’s car was in the driveway, so I knew I was going to get attacked the minute I was through the door.

  “Hey, you back from fooling around with your fiancé?” Donny’s voice boomed through the living room and into the kitchen, where I’d come in the back door.

  “Hi Donny,” I said, cringing. I didn’t need my brother talking to me about my (nonexistent) sex life. “How’s Steph?” His wife of five years was due with their second child in a few months.

  I walked into the living room to find Dad in his recliner and Donny and Mom on the couch. Dad blinked his eyes open, pretending that he hadn’t already been sleeping. I flopped in between Donny and Mom.

  Donny laughed. “I’m on pedicure duty now. I’m considering a second career in a nail salon. See?” He took his socks off and wiggled his toes that were painted with a sunset orange color.

  “Pretty,” I said, admiring them.

  “Thank you.”

  “How’s Gus?” Mom asked, looking up from the game on her phone.

  “Good,” I said.

  “Is he good or is he really good?” Donny asked, wiggling his eyebrows. He and I had both inherited red hair from some recessive gene in our family tree.

  “Donny, you’re disgusting and you’re lucky I don’t poison you one of these days, but I’m scared of your wife.”

  Donny cackled. “That’s fair, I’m terrified of her too.” Steph had worked as a bouncer and now had one of those scary bootcamp workout gyms where she screamed at people to flip tires and shit. I went to her kickboxing class a few times a week.

  Mom and Donny talked about this and that and I let the soft sounds of home lull me until my eyes were heavy.

  “I’m heading to bed,” I said, getting up. Donny said he had to get home; he’d just come by to mess with the kitchen sink. I hugged him and both my parents before going to my room.

  I’d forgotten to tell Gus that I’d arrived home safely, and I had a few missed messages from him, so I apologized and said I was going to bed.

  After slipping on some undies and an old camp t-shirt, I crawled into bed with my phone. Moments befor
e, I’d been ready to completely pass out, but now my brain was alert and needed something to do or else I was going to lay there and stare at the damn ceiling for a few hours until finally shutting down.

  I did a little bit of checking and reading and scrolling. I knew exactly what I wanted, and that was to talk to Monty, but it was too late for that. TJ was probably there, or she was already asleep and I didn’t want to bother her. Just as I was about to start looking up my former high school enemies on social media, a text from Monty came in.

  You awake?

  Two

  Monty

  TJ had come and gone. He claimed he had to get up early, which was true, but also, he could have stayed. I hoped when we moved in together just before the wedding that things would settle into a new pattern. I’d been mentally preparing myself for the changes, but I didn’t know how much you could really prepare for every single facet of your life changing.

  I’d be moving to a new place that I’d have to share with another person. Sure, I’d lived with my parents, but it had been just us. Sharing a home with a husband was different than sharing a home with your parents. I didn’t need to move in with him to know that.

  I made some tea and wandered around my apartment, reaching out and touching my things. A lot of this stuff would have to go, and not because TJ wanted me to get rid of everything, but we would have to buy things together. Instead of things being mine, they would be ours.

  My mother had already started buying us things, and I had a little pile going in one corner. A crockpot, a dish set, some towels. None of them were to my taste, but they were free, so I wasn’t going to turn them down. She’d even started making me a quilt for our bed, but I wasn’t holding my breath to see the thing finished. Mom didn’t have a whole lot of follow-through.

  Unable to sleep, I lay on the couch and pulled a blanket over myself. I could read or watch something, but I didn’t think my mind could hold onto anything long enough to focus. There were so many thoughts and worries and questions about the wedding, my marriage, what kind of a wife I was going to be.

  I wanted to talk to Tessa, to tell her everything. To open up all the doors and let her see my ugly thoughts as she stroked my hair and told me it was going to be okay.