Mimosas And Confessions

Trigger/Content Warning:

Character death

Abuse and control in a relationship

Death threats

The streets of Seabrook were blissfully quiet that Saturday morning, the kind of calm that descended when the world finally decided to stop spinning quite so fast. Sam Ihle savored the rarity as he and Jodie shared a corner table on the patio of a cozy brunch café. It was a rare luxury for two reporters who seemed to thrive on chaos, their fingers always on the pulse of world events. A pot of strong coffee, plates of scrambled eggs and pancakes, and tall flutes of mimosas set the stage for a peaceful morning—at least on the surface. 

The third seat at the table was filled by Katherine Evangelista, Seabrook Viking News’ gossip columnist. Normally vibrant and full of mischievous energy, Katherine wore a strained smile that barely masked her hollow eyes. It had only been a week since Ryan Hall, war correspondent and her fiancé, had died in the line of duty when the car he was riding in on his way to interview a diplomat in Baghdad exploded from a car bomb placed underneath. The weight of the tragedy had everyone walking on eggshells around her, though Katherine didn’t seem to notice. She carried herself with an eerie grace, laughing a bit too much and asking about the mundane as though nothing had happened. 

“Katherine, you sure you want to be out and about this morning?” Jodie asked gently. “We could’ve done this another time.” 

Katherine waved off the concern with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “No, this is exactly what I need,” she replied, though the brittleness in her voice gave her away. “If I spend another moment in that empty apartment, I’ll lose it. I need normalcy, even if it’s fake.” 

The three of them exchanged polite conversation, their words skimming the surface of safety as if afraid of the deeper waters. For a moment, Sam even allowed himself to believe they’d get through this meal without incident. That belief shattered halfway through the second round of mimosas. 

“Why are you doing this?” Katherine’s voice cut through the table like broken glass. 

Sam froze, the words aimed straight at him, but he didn’t dare speak yet. 

Katherine put down her glass, her expression darkening as years of buried emotions boiled to the surface. “Why now, Sam? Why are you being so kind all of a sudden? Brunch invitations, casual conversations, like nothing happened? Why?” Her voice cracked with the force of her anger. “You ignored me for two years. Treated me like I didn’t exist—treated me like I was a nobody. Like I was of no consequence or value to you! And now I’m supposed to believe everything’s fine?” 

“Katherine…” Jodie began softly, but Katherine held up a trembling hand to silence her. 

“No, Jodie, he owes me an answer. Why did you shut me out, Sam? For two years! Two years, Sam! And why did you pick now to finally treat me like a person again?” 

Sam felt Jodie’s concerned eyes dart to him, but he couldn’t meet them. His throat felt dry and his stomach churned with nerves. Clearing his throat, he raised his hands slightly, a motion of surrender. “I need to preface this by saying two things,” he began, his tone steady but quiet. “First, I’m part German and part Irish, and in both cultures, you don’t speak ill of the dead. And second, I never wanted you to feel like this.” 

“Then why?” Katherine demanded, her voice thick with pain. 

Sam drew a deep breath and fixed his gaze firmly on the table. “It was Ryan,” he said simply. 

Katherine blinked, her brows furrowing. “Ryan?” 

“I know this won’t make any sense at first, but you need to hear the whole story. One day, two years ago, Ryan sent me an email. Or… he sent it from your email account. He’d hacked into it.” 

Katherine’s mouth fell open. “Ryan? That’s impossible—he wouldn’t…” 

“He did,” Sam interjected firmly but not unkindly. “And I’ll never forget what he wrote. It started out weirdly friendly. He said I seemed like a cool guy and that if we ever met on the street, he’d shake my hand—or give me the Vulcan hand salute if I preferred.” Sam chuckled darkly. “Then it got… not so friendly. He told me to back the f— off. That I was like the third-wheeling best friend in a rom-com, the one who drives a wedge between the main couple. He wrote that he didn’t want to turn our situation into that, but if I didn’t stop hanging out with you, there would be consequences.” 

Katherine’s hands trembled, her mimosa untouched as the blood drained from her face. 

Sam continued, his words spilling faster now, as though afraid he’d lose the courage to speak. “He even compared the whole thing to the Arthurian legend. He said he felt like King Arthur and you were Guinevere… and I was Lancelot. Like some tragic love triangle. It was surreal. He told me to stay away from you, and he threatened to make my life hell if I didn’t.” 

Jodie let out a small gasp, covering her mouth in shock. 

Katherine shook her head slowly, as if trying to process the enormity of what Sam was saying. “He… Ryan said that?” she whispered. 

Sam nodded. “I should have gone to HR or told you what he did, but I didn’t. I folded. I thought maybe he was right. I didn’t want to ruin your relationship, so I did what he said. I stepped back, gave you space, and tried to convince myself it was the right thing to do. But it wasn’t. I hurt you, and for that, I’m sorry.” 

Katherine’s voice wavered as her anger dissolved into quiet grief. “Why didn’t you tell me, Sam? I deserved to know.” 

“I was afraid,” he admitted. “Afraid of causing a scene. Of losing your friendship—or worse, my job—maybe even my life. Ryan still had friends from the gang life who would do anything for him at the drop of a hat—at his word! I know that’s no excuse, but it’s the truth. And when Jodie finally returned my feelings… Ryan stopped seeing me as a threat. That’s when I felt like I could talk to you again. I’m sorry. For everything.” 

Tears streamed silently down Katherine’s cheeks as she absorbed his confession. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “I can’t believe he did that.” 

“Katherine…” Jodie reached out to take her hand, but she pulled away, shaking her head. 

“I need a minute,” she said, standing abruptly. She walked toward the café’s garden, leaving Sam and Jodie in stunned silence. 

“Do you think she’ll forgive me?” Sam asked after a long pause, his voice barely audible. 

Jodie gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “She’s hurt, Sam, but she’ll understand. Just give her time.” 

Sam stared into his half-empty mimosa, a hollow ache settling in his chest. The truth had finally come out, but at what cost?