It Should Have Been Us Novel – Rebecca. My name is a rasped croak that sends a shudder down my spine. We haven’t talked or seen each other in three years, and my body still reacts to him like it always did. Three years. It’s been three years since anybody has called me by my full name. I’ve always been Becky or Becs to most of my friends and family. But not to Miguel. Not when it was just the two of us. Only this time, it wasn’t just two of us. A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe. There were half a dozen of Bluebonnet’s residents that were currently sitting on the edge of their seats as they watched this unfold. I open my mouth, to say what, I’m not sure, but Nico is faster. He turns around, and I can see his whole body bracing for an attack.
“What do you think you’re doing here, Fernandez?” Miguel’s gaze lingers on me for a moment longer before it shifts to Nico. “I’d assume the same thing as you, trying to get some coffee.” Nico opens his mouth, but I wrap my fingers around his arm. “Don’t,” I whisper, although it’s pointless. The only sound filling the space is the radio softly playing in the background. Everybody else has quieted down, their eyes on us, waiting to see what’ll happen. But it wasn’t their gazes that burned the most. It was Miguel’s eyes that were locked on where my hand was resting on Nico’s forearm. I pull my hand back, clasping my fingers together. Nico turns to me, his brows pulled together. “You don’t have to do this, Becs.” He was wrong, though.
I had to do this. We were making a scene as it was; kicking Miguel out of Reading Nookwould be the talk of the town, and that’s the last thing I wanted. “We broke up ages ago. It’s going to be fine,” I mutter softly, turning to the register. It takes me a couple of tries, but I finally get the right total. Nico just shakes his head before giving me the money. “If he gives you any issues, you call me?” I nod my head but stay silent. Nico finally gives up and grabs his things, shoulder checking into Miguel’s on his way out. I can see Nico’s lips move, but I can’t decipher the words from the buzzing in my ears. Miguel’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t take the bait. Those dark eyes meet mine, and slowly, he closes the distance between us.
“W-what…” My voice comes out hoarse, so I clear my throat. “What are you doing here?” “This is a coffee shop, right?” He looks around as if he’s trying to figure out if he’s in the right place. Smartass. “Yes, this is my coffee shop. What do you want?” He watches me for a moment, those dark eyes glued to my face as if he’s drinking me in, trying to memorize every line of my face. “Can we talk?” Talk? He wants to talk? Here and now? With half of Bluebonnet watching? “We don’t have anything to discuss.” I start to take a step back, but his fingers wrap around my wrist. While Nico’s hand on mine felt nice, Miguel’s touch was like I’d been burned. A zap of electricity shoots through my arm at the point of contact, my whole body shuddering at the touch. The memories of the past flash in my mind, overwhelming me in its intensity.
Don’t go there. I chant those words like a mantra. My eyes fall shut for a moment as I try to compose myself. “That’s nonsense, and you know it,” Miguel says, a note of irritation in his voice. My eyes snap open. I tug my hand out of his grasp, my fingers wrap around my wrist, rubbing at the sensitive flesh as I shoot him a death glare. “No, I don’t think it’s nonsense,” I whisper softly, leaning in so only he can hear me. “We said everything that needed to be said. Now you can either order what you came for, or you can leave.” Miguel’s jaw works as he watches me. For a moment, I’m not sure if he wants to strangle me or turn around and leave. But in the end, he surprises me by choosing neither. “Black coffee. And two of those peanut butter cookies.” “Okay, I’ll pack—” “Oh, no.” He flashes me a smile, but there is nothing warm or loving in it.
“I’m staying here.” – MIGUEL I watched her move behind the counter, making coffees, packing treats, and talking to people for the last two hours while I sat here and pretended that I’m busy. The idea of getting any work done fell through the moment I saw her in Reading Nook. With no one other than Nico. What was he, her guard dog? “You know I’m Emmett’s best man,” I say as I chase after her. “You can’t avoid me forever.” “I can sure try my best,” she mutters under her breath. “I heard that.” She glares over her shoulder. “I wasn’t trying to be quiet.” “Seriously? Is this how it’s going to be?” Like, how stubborn can one person be? “I already told you we’ve said everything that needed to be said. I don’t s—” “Did we say it before or after you turned your back on me and walked away?” I grit between clenched teeth. I grab her hand, tugging her to me.
She collides into my chest, her lips parting as she sucks in a breath, those hazel eyes widening in surprise as a jolt of electricity goes through me. Now “Me?” she lets out a strangled laugh, snapping me out of the fall down memory lane. She tugs her hand out of my grasp, and this time, I let her. “You’re putting this on me?” All the color has drained from her cheeks, making that dusting of freckles that always appeared in the summer months on the bridge of her nose stand out even more. Rebecca always hated those freckles. She thought they made her look like a little girl. I, on the other hand, loved every single one of them. I remember staring at them, tracing them with the tip of my finger, and later on with my mouth as I peppered smooches over every inch of her body. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. How is it possible that somebody looks so different and yet exactly the same three years later? It feels like a lifetime, but also like not enough time has passed.
I raise my hand, pressing it against that aching spot in the middle of my chest. It’s the exact same spot in which a hole opened the day she walked away from me, not even wanting to listen to what I had to tell her. I think that part was the one that hurt the most. “Did you or did you not walk away?” She, the only person who claimed to love me unconditionally, the only one I allowed myself to trust, turned her back on me and walked the fuckk away. Nails dig into my skin, a bite of pain shooting up my arm. “What was I supposed to do? Huh? Stay there and wa—” Just then, the doorbell rings, cutting off anything she wanted to say. She presses her lips in a tight line before turning toward the door. But I still can’t seem to move my gaze from her. I’m drinking her in like a thirsty man in the desert, trying to memorize everything that is Rebecca Williams. The way the red in her hair seems darker. The way the plain black tank top clings to her chest.
The way the cutoff jeans show off her long, tanned legs and the curve of her hip. Get a grip, dude. I shake my head, snapping myself out of my thoughts and shifting my attention toward the door to find two of the biggest gossips standing in the doorway, gaping at the two of us with interest. “Miguel Fernandez, I’ve heard the stories, but I couldn’t believe that you’d come home after all this time,” Mrs. Miller says as she moves further into the café, her bony hand clutching the handle of her wooden walking stick, and Mrs. Tyson at her heels. “What brings you here?” I open my mouth, but before I can say a word, Mrs. Tyson scoffs. “What do you think he’s doing here? The boy finally got his head out of his hip, so he came home to make things right, Trish.” “I know that, Milly.” The other woman shakes her head exasperatedly.
“I just want him to realize it, too.” “He’s a man. You know how they are. If it ain’t biting him in the hip, he ain’t seeing it. My late George was just like that. God rest his soul.” “You mean the devil? That man was insufferable on a good day.” “But I think Miguel still has hope. He’s back, after all.” “What Miguel is is leaving,” Rebecca grits through clenched teeth, a fake smile plastered on her face. “I just heard Mrs. Fernandez called him to bring home some flour so she can finish preparing dinner.” I blink, unsure if I heard her correctly. “Oh my, you can’t keep your mother waiting.” Mrs. Tyson nods decisively. Still glaring at Rebecca, I force out a smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Mrs. Miller taps me on the shoulder. “After all, you have more than one woman in your life you have to make up to. C’mon, Milly, let’s see what Becky baked for us today.”
The women loop their hands together and go toward the glass display, but I didn’t doubt it in the slightest that they were listening intently to everything we said. I move closer, leaning down so my lips practically brush against the shell of Becky’s ear. This close, her sweet scent fills all of my senses. Roses, jasmine, and sugar mixed with something that’s uniquely Rebecca. My gaze meets hers, observing those long eyelashes as they fan over the line of her cheekbones. The way the color drains from that pretty pink mouth—a mouth I’ve smooched a thousand times before—because of how hard she’s pressing her lips together. Fitting, considering she broke my heart and didn’t even bother to look back.