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“You know if becoming a husband and a dad didn’t turn me into such a sap, I’d be giving you so much shit right about now.”
“I’d probably take it. I never expected this, you know? After Nora. I thought I was perfectly fine hooking up when I needed it. Forget trusting another woman again. Then Evie came out of nowhere, and I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”
He gazes off into the trees. “I know exactly how that feels. But with Kiersten, I wanted to fight it. Admitting to myself I loved someone other than my dead wife felt so wrong. But you…” He claps me on the shoulder and gives it a shake. “You’re all in.”
“I’m all in.”
“Fastest a man has fallen in this town.”
I shrug his hand off my shoulder and reciprocate with a shove against his. “Oh, fuck off. You knocked your wife up the first time you slept with her. Deny it all you want, but the moment you found out she was pregnant, you were all in too.”
“Damn right.” He drains the rest of his beer. “So what’s this big idea you wanted our help with?”
“Let’s go back inside. It’s an all-hands-on-deck situation.”
One I hope can finally convince Evie to stay by my side.
When she’s ready, that is.
29
Evie
Today, I wear black.
Besides my work pants, I avoid black. It’s my least favorite color. I was often told growing up how black was a slimming color. That wearing dark fabrics could hide more of my figure. But I didn’t want to hide. I wanted to wear colors as loud as my personality and be seen.
Wearing black today of all days feels wrong because Eric’s life should be a celebration, but I wear the dress I hastily shoved into my carry-on because grief holds me in its clutches. I don’t want to be seen as bright and loud today.
I apply a stroke of my favorite earthy red lipstick to my lips and pull my curls into a messy bun at my nape. One glance at my reflection shows my undereye circles are more pronounced after nights of restless sleep. I’ll cover them with big sunglasses rather than apply makeup I’ll probably cry off later.
As I drop my lipstick tube back into my clutch purse, my phone lights up from the jostling. The empty notifications send a pang of sadness through me. I should call Rhett and apologize for leaving. For letting the fear and sadness rule my motivation.
Tate steps into view, his sad features reflecting mine in the mirror. We lock eyes for a second before I look away and shut my purse. I clear my throat.
“I’m almost ready.”
“You look beautiful.”
I whirl on the ball of my foot to face him. “Don’t.” The quiet words hold a warning.
Tucking his hands into his pockets, he leans against the doorframe. “We need to talk.”
A million and one words rise to the surface. Things I should have said but didn’t. Things I regret. What stands out most is the lack of any deep emotions in regards to this man.
“We should leave well enough alone.”
“I mi
ss you.” His voice cracks. “And I fucked up.”
“We both fucked up,” I say gently, knowing my part in our split was near fifty-fifty.
“I know.”
The easiness of his agreement causes me to snort. “I’m glad you’re willing to share the blame.”
I move to the guest bed I’ve been sleeping on and grab my shoes from my open bag. The flat strappy black sandals will be perfect for walking around today. I cross one leg over the other knee and slide my foot into one shoe.
