Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks 1)
“Miss J is your friend?” Izzie asks sweetly.
I clear my throat, not knowing what to say as Edward looks between us both. “She sure was.”
She giggles sweetly and skips off to her—Wait, what?
“Charlotte,” I breathe as I finally put two and two together.
Edward’s head snaps toward where my stare is concentrated and I watch as Izzie runs up to her and Clayton, telling her something excitedly as she waves her arms about in the air.
“So, you’re the infamous Miss J the kids are always talking about,” he says, snapping me out of my concentration.
“I don’t… Sorry, Ed. I—I’m so lost. Are Izzie and Clayton…”
“Tristan’s?” I nod my head, feeling like my life is about to spiral out of control even more with the words that I know are about to come out of his mouth. “Yeah, they’re great kids.” My stomach bottoms out at his confirmation and he steadies me by my arm. “Are you okay?”
I do a half-nod, half-headshake. “I had no idea so it’s a shock, but I’m okay.” I look into his worried, brown eyes. “Did he know about the studio being mine?”
He lets out a sad breath. “He wouldn’t have brought them here if he did, Harm.”
I nod. “I saw him.”
His eyes widen. “You did?”
“Yeah, he was upstairs… invading my personal space.”
He chuckles. “Sounds like him.” His gaze flits around the room. “I’m happy to see that you’re doing so well for yourself. When did you move back?” he asks, changing the conversation.
My head whips his way. “How did you know that I moved away?”
“Just because you thought he didn’t care, doesn’t mean he didn’t keep tabs on you for the first few years.”
His admission feels like a cruel slap to the face. “Don’t. Don’t try and make out what he did to me to be anything other than what it was.” I shake my head to clear it of the warring thoughts. “None of that matters now anyway, I’m over it. I’ve moved on.”
His gaze flits between mine and he clears his throat awkwardly. “Right, well… I better get back to Charlotte and the kids. Take care of yourself, Harmony, it was great to see you again.”
I smile stiffly before stumbling back into someone and apologizing to them then walking over to my mom in a daze. I can’t believe he has kids, although, it’s not that hard to imagine since it has been ten years. I guess my mind isn’t processing it all very well.
“Mom, are you ready for the big reveal?” She nods once, looking at my flustered self through curious eyes. “Great.”
I walk over to the white curtained wall and turn around, facing everyone and raising my voice. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. I want to thank each and every one of you for coming here tonight and supporting ‘Willow Arts.’ It’s been an absolute pleasure to teach all of your children over the past six weeks, and I’m sure you’ve enjoyed viewing their artwork. What we have to show you next is why they’re all so excited.”
I look around the room,
my gaze lingering on Charlotte—Tristan’s mom—seeing a soft smile on her face. Why is she smiling at me like that? It throws me off what I was doing, sending my head into a spin. It isn’t until Mom clears her throat that I snap back to reality and motion behind me.
“So, without further ado, their final pieces.”
I peel back the curtain from its Velcro and everyone claps and immediately swarms toward me to get a closer look. I start to feel overwhelmed quickly and my head swims as I squeeze my body through the growing crowd around me. Mom saves me by pulling on my hand and I end up at the other side, standing next to her.
She cocks a brow. “Are you okay?”
“A little hot, that’s all,” I reply, fanning my face and scanning the crowd.
I see Edward, Amelia, Izzie, Clayton, and Charlotte standing in front of the kids’ paintings.
Now it all makes sense, the man in the business suit is Tristan; their dad. It all hits me at once: the betrayal from him, the fact that he has kids, the agony of my own pain at the unfairness of it all.
“Harm?” I hear Mom faintly say, but I can’t quite grasp onto where from. It’s the last thing I hear before everything swirls into one big color mass and I feel myself fall.