Tessa and Scott: The One That Got Away (short story)

The One That Got Away

Andrew looked hot, which was no surprise. His hair had taken on a touch of silver now, but it only added to his charm, and that annoyed her, because she knew he would always be handsomer than her current husband.

And she couldn't even handle seeing those adorable children, Willow and Juniper, with their gangly little legs, sleek black hair, and sparkling hazel eyes as they asked their parents about what marriage was supposed to be.

Then there was Meagan, always the snitch, who spent the whole dinner whispering to Kaetlyn, Gabby, and Alaine about Tessa's previous marriages.

But the worst part was when Piper had too much champagne and started talking about that time Tessa and Paul Poirier had...well, thank God Marie-France had called for another toast before Piper leaked anything else. But really, who would believe her? When sober, Piper was a hippie trying to be a Hollywood star, and when drunk, she was simply a clown.

Eric, for his part, had played some excellent music. But Tessa had the crawling feeling that everyone was whispering behind their hands and making bets about how long this marriage would last while the sweet sound of "Your Song" came from the piano.

Chiddy had tried to make a speech, but it sounded as forced as a handshake between diplomats. And every time she saw Chiddy, she couldn't help thinking of Scott.

She hadn't seen that useless son of a gun since she'd married Giuseppe and moved to Rome. And not that she wanted to. Chiddy, who still saw him once in a while, said that Scott was fine. But Tessa knew Chiddy too well, and she could always tell when he was lying.

Of course, it wasn't Tessa's fault that they weren't talking to each other. She HAD invited him to her wedding to Giuseppe, but he'd never shown up. Which was strange, because until then, they'd always been best friends.

She hadn't invited him to the other two weddings. After all, he wouldn't want the inconvenience of traveling to Salt Lake City just for a wedding.

She'd thought she'd had everything with Giuseppe.

One morning, Giuseppe Lambertenghi died in his sleep, aged 74.

She couldn't let all her talent be wasted. So she returned to skating. And one day, she discovered Nathan.

She'd known about him for years – after all, the kid had been doing quads since he could stand up. But he was a decade younger than her, so she'd never paid him much attention. Until she realized how his thick black curls gave him a roguish charm, and his cardiology practice gave him a house in the Hamptons.

The problem with Nathan was, he was just so BUSY. In addition to being a doctor, he was still trying to manage his own skating school, and he even appeared in shows once in a while. In his big, exciting life, there simply was no time for Tessa.

Tessa, on the other hand, had a lot of time.

And she also had Paul Poirier.

She'd always thought Paul was cute, but his screwball approach to everything cooled any sexual tension they'd ever had. Until he did this modeling gig for Calvin Klein, like all sexy Canadians before him, and Tessa stopped to admire the scenery for a minute.

Well, actually, she'd done more than admire.

The minute the baby was born, red-faced and squirming and screaming like a steam engine, Nathan just looked over at Tessa, a question in his eyes. And she'd looked away before the shame could consume her face.

Nathan never mentioned the affair in the divorce papers. He took the Hamptons house and the Jaguar, and she took Josephine and the baby, whose official name was Brighton Maximilian Chen but whose true name was Brighton Maximilian Poirier.

As for the fling with Paul, that didn't work out either. He was great for some midnight loving, but he was better at making puns than money.

So she'd packed up her things and moved back to her little hometown of London, Ontario. She'd bought herself a modest two-bedroom house and learned to cook and clean like a regular housewife.

Until Walter Perrot moved in next door.

A man in his sixties, he was no longer very handsome. He was obsessed with his work, like Nathan, but he lacked even a trace of Nathan's casual charm. He was always glued to his computer, and frankly Tessa would've preferred marrying his twenty-something son.

But Walter was rich and widowed, and that was enough.

Now, sitting up in bed sometime after three-thirty in the morning, she rubbed her forehead and tried to ignore the knots in her stomach that told her she'd just made a huge mistake.

She picked up her phone from the bedside table and started to place a call. After thirteen years, she still remembered his number so easily.

But what did she have to say? It wasn't like they'd just get back together, not when she had just married a millionaire. She had never loved Scott romantically, and she was not about to start now.

Tessa stared at the phone for at least five minutes, her mind spinning. Why had she even started to call in the first place? It seemed more stupid the longer she thought about it. No, she was not going to call up her old partner on her wedding night.

She set the phone on the nightstand, lay down again, and tried to block out the sound of Walter's guttering snores.