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My knowledge of the building wins out though. I can give her some space as well as find her if I use my logic, saving my emotions for later.
Security gives me a blank stare when I ask which way someone went from the south stairwell. But I know which way she’s headed.
Home.
The house I don’t want her in anymore. The house I’ve already decided to pay for if it isn’t already, so her dad has one less thing to worry about.
Ah, Nick! Why did we ever fight? What a waste of years. Life’s too short.
Making my way back down to my parking spot, I feel an urgency I don’t like. The not knowing and maybe even real prospect of losing Evelyn, before I even claim her properly.
The thought draws a low groan from deep inside me, but one that has an edge of determination to it.
If she wants to know everything about my past, fine. I just didn’t feel like trying to explain it all in ten seconds in a hospital stairwell.
The same feeling that’s brought us together heightens my senses, letting me know which way she’s gone.
It isn’t long after I pull out of the car park I see her getting into a cab and feel some relief at least.
I can keep an eye on her from here, follow her home and hopefully talk to her once she’s calmed down a little.
It’s the longest car ride of my life, with each set of lights and other cars on the road feeling like the only thing keeping me from her, apart from the fact she’s mad as hell at me.
Probably hates my guts right now.
She’s so cute when she’s mad though.
I catch myself grinning in the rearview mirror to myself at the thought of her, pouting with rage and pushing past me with a strength I’d like to see employed in other ways.
More sensual ways.
I almost lose my place in traffic, someone behind me honking once the light turns green and I hear my tires squeal as I race to catch up, not wanting to lose sight of her even though I know exactly where she’s headed.
I slow once the cab stops out front of her dad’s place, noticing how much smaller it looks in the daylight.
She looks like she’s been crying and I feel a stab of pain in my chest, kicking myself for letting it come to this.
But if she knew what happened between her dad and me, would she really have acted any different?
Only one way to find out and that’s to tell her.
Her dad certainly doesn’t seem to have forgotten. Doesn’t seem to have lost any of that chip on his shoulder he’s been carrying since that summer all those years ago.
I watch the cab pull away, my eyes following her to her door as she lets herself in. Not even looking back at me, not knowing how much it pains me to even be this far apart from her.
After what feels like a year but is most likely only a few minutes, I can’t help myself.
I kill the motor and stride up to her front door after crossing the street. Neighborhood sounds and the warmth of the day making me feel calm on the outside at least.
I ring the bell.
Nothing.
I knock.
Still nothing.
If I had her number, I’d call. Thinking on my feet, I reason I could call the hospital and get her contact details.
But I’m right here if only she’d just open the damned-
“What are you doing?” I hear her ask from behind the solid wood door, knowing it’s me as much as I know it’s her on the other side without even seeing her.
“I just wanna talk, Evelyn. Let’s not fight. I was an asshole back at the hospital,” I tell her truthfully.
“If you want me to tell you about me and your dad, I will. I didn’t mean to jump the gun by asking you to Bermuda, either. I know it’s a hard time for you… I just…”
I just can’t spill my guts to a door is what I think I’m really trying to say.
Feeling my hand ball into a fist I hesitate to knock one more time, I feel relief when I hear the lock click.
Evelyn’s sweet face peering around the edge of the door. Her eyes red and puffy with tears still.
She’s opened just enough to show herself but hasn’t opened the door all the way.
“Hi,” I murmur, feeling like a school kid in front of her.
“Hi,” she rasps, sniffing a reply and looking past me before studying her feet.
“Can I come in?” I ask, but really wanting to take her away from this place.
Take her home, where I know she belongs.
She shrugs and steps aside, letting the door open with a silent invitation as she moves into the kitchen.
Following her curves I close the door silently behind me, saying an equally silent thanks for her giving me a second chance.
