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Evie was behind me, standing in the kitchen in a T-shirt that draped from her shoulder. Her hair was messy and gathered on one side.
“What are you doing up?” I asked.
“Do you usually make breakfast at midnight?” She stepped closer in her bare feet.
Damn. She was sassy.
“No.” I rubbed the back of my hair. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t eat dinner.”
“I didn’t either,” she admitted.
“Want to join me? Bacon and cheese omelet? I happen to make the best in New York.”
I could tell she was trying not to smile. “You’d make one for me?”
I laughed. “Why wouldn’t I? Are you implying I’d hold a grudge?”
She exhaled, sliding onto a bar stool. “I wouldn’t blame you, I guess. But an omelet would be nice, if you’re offering.”
“I am.”
I cracked more eggs and whipped together another omelet for her. The bacon was almost ready.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Is it the guest room? Are you out of towels? Do you need a noise machine to drown out the street sounds?”
“It’s everything.” Her voice cracked. I expected her to take the bait from my sarcastic quips, but it was the complete opposite.
I turned to face her. “What happened? What’s wrong?” I shoveled the omelets on two plates and placed one in front of her with a fork.
She looked up. “I talked to my parents tonight.”
“You did?”
“Yes. Before I walked home. My mom called.” She reached for her fork. “I knew telling them about the elopement would shock them, but I had convinced myself that somehow they’d be more excited for me than mad.”
“And that wasn’t the case?”
She shook her head. “My father wants to talk to you.”
“Fuck. That doesn’t sound good.” The last time I had talked to someone’s dad was when I took Julia Sanders to prom our senior year. He wanted the name of the hotel where we were staying, so he didn’t fall into the father-of-the-year category.
Concerned, caring parents were out of my realm. Parents like Evie had.
“I told them we’d call tomorrow.” Her eyes misted over. “I don’t know if I can ask you to do that now.”
“Why? Because of our fight?”
She bit into the omelet. “This is good.”
“Thanks.” I leaned on the counter, studying her and eating dinner. “I’ll call your dad tomorrow, Evie.”
“Really?”
“Really.” We finished our omelets in silence. There were extra slices of bacon I placed between us. “Tell me what your dad wants to hear. By the time we’re off the phone we’ll have his full blessing.”
She huffed. “He’s not that kind of man. If you try anything but the truth, he’ll know you’re lying.”
