After dinner, I had written a check, bid on a few items up for auction, and then I had retrieved my car and headed home. I wrestled with myself over calling Evie, but I knew she probably didn’t get off work until late and that the last thing she probably wanted to deal with was me. Shit. I could barely sleep, but I had to put her first and leave this until morning, even though every instinct in me was screaming to drive over to her apartment and explain myself. I started writing her a text message but after sitting there for a good five minutes not knowing what to say that would come across in the right way, I threw my phone on my bedside table and collapsed back on my bed.
I shower and get dressed, and then head over to Evie’s apartment. I’m all worked up with the need to explain to her what the night before was about. I need to make this right if I’m going to be able to keep sane today. I ring her apartment from the front door buzzer and when there’s no answer, I take out my phone, look up the Hilton’s phone number and dial as I pace in front of her apartment. When I get through to the housekeeping manager, I tell him that I’m supposed to pick Evie Cruise up today but forgot the time she told me to be there. With no questioning whatsoever, he tells me what time she gets off work. That pisses me off slightly, even though I got the information I wanted.
Even though it’s Saturday, I have a couple morning meetings scheduled with Preston and then the head engineers. We’re up against a couple testing deadlines and so the team has agreed to sacrifice a couple weekends in order to meet them. As much as I’d like to obsess about Evie, I have to put my corporate hat on and be present for work. I owe it to all the people working extra hours for me. I finish up the first round of meetings just in time to catch Evie getting off work.
I drive quickly downtown and pull up near the bus stop that I know Evie takes, and park illegally as I wait for her to come around the corner. I don’t feel nervous, just determined. I’m going to make her understand what last night was about. There’s no other option. There is no way in hell that Gwen, of all people, is going to come in the way of what I had started to re-build with Evie. Un-fucking-thinkable.
After ten minutes or so, I see Evie appear around the corner of the hotel. Thankfully there’s no one behind me as I pull up slowly next to her as she walks down the block. She looks over at me and I lean over the seat and smile. "Want a ride little girl?" I tease, trying to coax a smile from her, too. No go. She looks over at me as if I’m a fly that just landed on her dinner. Great. That’s okay – I’m willing to work for this.
"Funny. No, Jake. I'm good with the bus." She keeps walking.
"Evie, we need to talk," I say seriously, but she doesn’t even look back my way and instead keeps walking.
"No, Jake, we don't," she says.
Fuck me, there are cars parked along the street from this point forward so I pull to the side and get out of my car. I would leave my car in the middle of the street if I had to.
As I jog up to her, she sits down on one of the empty bus stop bench seats and cranes her neck to see if the bus is coming. Oh hell no, I will jump on that bus with her.
Because there are people milling around in front of her, I stand behind her and slightly to the left as I say, "Listen, Evie, last night was not what you think it was."
"Jake," she interrupts, "It's been a long day. I'm really asking you to just leave this, okay? You should have told me you have a girlfriend. You didn't. It's done. Walk away." Then she turns away from me. I can feel my blood start to boil, not because I blame Evie for her anger, but because it’s fucking Gwen who is between us right now. It’s too ludicrous for words. I clench my jaw.
"Gwen is not my girlfriend, Evie. I hope you'd think more of me than that after the time we've spent together."
"Jake, again, walk away."
"I'm not gonna do that, Evie," I say. No way in hell.
I see her heave a big impatient breath and purse those beautiful lips of hers. She’s pissed. She stands up and gets right in my face, eyes narrowed. "Clue in, Jake. You don't know me. You think you do, but you don't. You think you know what type of person I am, but you have no idea. And so, you don't get to do this. You don't get to interrupt my life over and over again and then think that I will be grateful to you for gracing my life with your very presence. After last night, I think it's perfectly clear that there is no reason for you to be here. So I am asking you again if we can have this conversation another time like never?"
As she goes to turn away from me, I grab her hand and pull her back toward me, right up to my face. Oh hell no. This girl is going to listen to me if I have to pin her against the wall to make her do it. Would I really pin her against the wall to make her listen to me? Yeah, fuck yeah, I would. But I’m kinda hoping that scenario is not going to go down because then I’ll really piss her off. I’d really rather have this conversation in my car, but I guess that’s not going to happen.
"It wasn't my intention to do this on a street corner, but this stubborn girl is gonna make me," I say, mostly to myself. Okay, though. I’m flexible. I take a deep breath as Evie narrows her eyes at me again. But she’s not trying to move away. This is a start.
I don’t have to tell Evie who I am to let her know what was crystal clear to me simply from watching her live her life for a little over a week. I could very well have been a stranger and still figured out how amazing she is. "You think I don't know you, Evie? I'll tell you what I know about you. That week I was following you, I know that you took the goddamn BUS to an old man's house to drop off cookies."
Her brows snap down and she stares at me for a second. "Mr. Cooper?" she finally asks, shaking her head in confusion, her eyes losing some of the anger they just held. "He lived next to the house where I lived for four years. He was always nice to me. He's widowed. Lonely. He really likes my chocolate chip cookies."
"It's a two hour round trip bus ride, Evie."
She’s still looking at me like I might be slightly crazy as she takes a deep breath. "Jake, I'm sure there's a point here but–"
"That guy across the hall was going to kill me before he let me even think about so much as making you uncomfortable."
"Maurice?" she says, scrunching her face up in confusion. God, she really has no fucking clue how she affects other people. "He's a really protective guy."
I keep going, trying to make my point, "Like the guy last night who practically melted me with the angry lasers coming out of his eyes after he thought I disrespected you in public?" I ask gently, my hold on her hand loosening because I don’t think she’s going to run now.
"Landon?" she asks. "He's one of my best friends, he–"
Jesus, am I not making this crystal clear to her? I’ve never met anyone who has a harder time understanding a compliment. I get it, believe me, I get it. But it’s still fucking frustrating when you’re the one trying to deliver the praise. It occurs to me that she probably hasn’t had a lot of heartfelt compliments in her life since I left and it’s no wonder she doesn’t recognize one when she sees it. This thought makes an intense flood of possessiveness fill my chest and I make the vow to keep telling her how amazing she is every day until I leave this earth. If by some horror she rejects me once she knows my whole disgusting truth, I will have it written in the sky every morning over her apartment. It feels like the greatest travesty of justice on the planet for this girl not to understand the depth of her own beauty. For my girl not to understand the depth of her own beauty. "Evie, I think you're failing to grasp what I'm saying to you and so I'm going to spell it out for you here, baby."
I stare straight into her widened eyes as I say, "You say 'please' and 'thank you' to everyone, Evie. You almost bumped into a cocker spaniel being walked by his owner and when you ducked around him, you said, 'excuse me.' You said 'excuse me' to a dog, Evie. And I bet you didn't even think twice about that. And that's because your manners are so deeply ingrained in you, that that is second nature. And given what I know about your past, I'm gonna guess that no one fucking taught you that. That
that is just all Evie."
She’s staring at me, unspeaking and so I consider that a good sign to continue.
"What I know about you, is that people who are lucky enough to have your trust and your friendship, it is clear that they would have your back to within an inch of their life and that is because you give them you, and they know that when they have you, they have a fuck of a lot.
"And, Evie, when you walk away from people, even strangers, you gotta know that their eyes follow you. And I'll tell you why, because I've felt it myself. It's because they don't want to see the light that is Evie, the light that is you, walking away from them. They want to see it coming toward them and staying with them."
"Uh–" she starts to say something, but I’m on a roll and frankly, this is my favorite subject and so I don’t want to stop.
"So maybe I don't know what your favorite meal is, maybe I don't even know your birthday. But what I do know is beautiful, and Evie, what I do know lets me know that I want to know more."
The fact is, I do know her birthday. I know it as well as I know my own, but it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t. It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t know any more than what it took to figure out in a week and a half. And I know that for a fact, because it took me fifteen minutes to know she was someone I was going to fall in love with when I was fucking eleven years old. The day I first noticed her, sitting at that dinner table wearing her heart on her sleeve, she brought me back to life and made me hope. In those first few minutes, that’s what she had done. And that’s why my betrayal of her made me hate myself so goddamn much.
This all swirls through my mind at lightning speed as we stare into each other’s eyes, standing at a bus stop on a city street. I’m lost in the depths of the dark brown windows to her soul.
"Um, Jake," she finally says quietly.
"What, Evie?"
"I missed my bus. I'm gonna need a ride."
Her words penetrate and I can’t help the giant grin that I feel spreading across my face.
I lead her to my car and deposit her in the passenger side as I make my way around and get in the driver’s side.
I pull onto the street. I need to make sure Evie is perfectly clear about Gwen, too. "I want you to listen to me about last night."
She glances over at me, biting the inside of her cheek. Her tell.
"Gwen's father is the CFO of my father's company. And when I say 'my father's company,' I really mean to say 'my company,' because that's what it is now, but that's a transition my brain is still working on." I didn’t even realize that was true until I just said it, but it is.
"Anyway, I've known Gwen and her father for a long time and over the years Gwen and I have spent some time together here and there, although I always made it clear to her that I wasn't interested in anything more than what we had, and what we had was very little. Gwen made it clear that she was interested in more, and Gwen was raised to believe that she is entitled to what she wants and that eventually, if she whines enough, she'll get it."
She’s quiet, just listening and I go on, "When I moved here, I tried to be a friend to her because, despite the fact that Gwen is a superficial bitch, I treated her disrespectfully over the years and in part that was because a side benefit of screwing Gwen was screwing my father, who was embarrassed at my treatment of a colleague's daughter."
I cringe internally, still ashamed of all the stupid shit I did over the years, but knowing why I did it. After a minute, I go on.
"I had arranged the event last night with Gwen months ago and I couldn't get out of it. It's a cause that is important to me and I didn't think it was any real skin off my teeth to bring Gwen as I'd planned. Three seconds in and I realized that I was mistaken on that front, and that was even before I saw you there."
She’s silent for a second, frowning. "Gwen made it sound like things were very current with you," she says, staring straight ahead.
Oh, I’m sure she did. I never did find out exactly what Gwen said to Evie in the bathroom, but I’m pretty sure I can figure out that it was something to the effect of, he’s mine and you’re less than dirt.
"That's because Gwen saw the way I looked at you, she saw your beauty, and Gwen did what she thought would work to keep you away from me.
"I know that Gwen made you feel less-than because that is what Gwen does best, but, Evie, you could be wearing a gunny sack, rolling around in mud, and you would have more class in your little pinky than Gwen has in her whole designer-clad body. And Gwen knows that. And she hates that. And that is why she went out of her way to make you feel that way.
"It was killing me not to bust into that kitchen and pin you down and explain the situation to you, but you were working and I wasn't gonna make things worse for you."
She’s quiet for a good minute and I see her looking around the inside of my car and then glance down at her uniform and I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s letting Gwen’s venom infect her and she’s thinking that maybe she is less-than. After I just told her how amazing she is, she’s letting the memory of Gwen’s words take over. It pisses me off.
"Jake," she starts, quietly, "I might not be–"
I pull into a parking space, shut the car off and turn to her. "No, Evie. Whatever you're about to say, consider whether it goes in direct contrast to everything I've just said to you in the past half an hour and if it does, just throw it out, okay?"
She stares at me again and then closes her mouth and quietly says, "Okay."
I grin at her. That’s my girl. "Good answer."
As I’m walking around my car to let her out, I make a decision. She’s mine. I need to start making that very, very clear. This type of stupid misunderstanding will not happen again. "I'm picking you up at six thirty tonight and I'm making you dinner. Do you eat steak?"
"Yes," she whispers.
Her eyes warm and she sways toward me, igniting a fierce possessiveness. "Do you work tomorrow?"
"No, day off."
I walk her to her door and she stands staring at me, and so I take her keys from her, open her outside door, and give her a little push inside. "See you tonight. And, Evie, pack an overnight bag." Very, very, very clear.
"What!–" she sputters, but I let the door close behind me, not allowing her to argue.
CHAPTER 14
Dr. Fox is sitting beside my bed in his usual spot, leaned back, one foot on his opposite knee, notepad in hand. He repeats the question he asked me minutes ago, that I still haven’t answered. I’m staring out the window, anger simmering in my brain.
"Can we talk about Lauren?"
His voice snaps me back to myself and I realize I’m clenching my jaw against my will.
"There’s nothing to talk about."
"I think we both know that’s not true."
"Alright, then, that subject is off limits."
"You need to talk about this, son."
"I don’t talk about her. Ever. She doesn’t exist to me."
"Saying it doesn’t make it true. I think you already know that."
A cloud of rage has settled in my head now, and I’m fighting against the images that assault me, one by one by fucking one. I feel like I’m about to combust, my hands fisting in my lap, my entire body tense.
"Why is it that you won’t talk about her?"
That’s when I feel it happen. I snap. I think I even hear the sound effect of each thought in my head bending and finally breaking as the cloud overtakes every cognitive function. Suddenly I am nothing more than pure anger, my brain filled with, and controlled by, a roiling tumor of fury. And it’s metastasizing by the minute, cells multiplying, spreading, and overtaking.
"Because I hate her!" I yell, picking my food tray up off the table next to my bed, and flinging it violently at the wall. Uneaten food splatters and the tray hits the floor with a clang.
"Who do you hate, son?"
"Lauren! I fucking hate her! I hate her!"
I sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum. I’m vaguely awar
e of this and yet my rage is so all-consuming, I don’t care. Fury rules and I am just along for the ride.
I swing my legs off the side of my bed and start sweeping things off every surface in my room, grinding out, "I hate her. I hate her. I hate her," with every crash. My breath is coming fast now and I feel the words starting to hitch in my throat. I feel crazed with rage as I hobble from one side of the room to the next, yelling and destroying, a pain-cyclone of anger and bitterness. Hurricane Leo. Category five.
"Who do you hate, Jake?" Dr. Fox's voice comes to me through the red noise pulsing through my brain.
"I told you! I fucking told you! Lauren! I hate her! I hate her! I hate her!" I continue to half grind out, half yell, and half pant. My voice is coming to me from what seems to be very far away. I can't feel my body any longer. I feel like one big whirling ball of emotion, completely out of control.
In my peripheral vision, I briefly make note that a nurse with a stricken look opens the door halfway to see what is causing what must sound like a barroom brawl in my hospital room.
Dr. Fox holds his hand up to her in a stop gesture and nods to her, and she backs out of the room quickly, her eyes wide.
"I hate her! I hate her! I hate her!" I grind out, overturning the table next to my bed.
"Who do you hate, son?" Dr. Fox asks again, quietly.
I whirl around to him and my father's voice, that bastard who called himself my father, comes to me suddenly. I see his face in front of me, filled with disgust, swimming in my cloudy, fury-riddled vision. I feel the rage bloom larger in my chest and I pick up a chair and hurl it across the room. It bounces off the tall, plastic garbage can in the corner and clatters to the floor, one leg snapping off. "My father!" I bellow. "I hate him! I fucking hate that rat-fucking bastard! I hate every bone in his disgusting body! I want to fucking kill him! I want to bash his fucking head in!"