Chapter 54
54
Drew
The relief I felt when Breanna walked through that door!
They’re still hugging, Bree looking like she’s stepped out of a Vogue shoot, and Evie reminding me of all the times she’d turn up on the doorstep for a sunrise photo trip as a teenager, half dressed, half asleep, wholly unaware that this disassembled, not-ready-for-the-day vibe just made me want to take her back to bed.
“Macchiato, Bree?” I ask. I’ve already made one for myself, and I’ve seen enough of Bree’s gap year foodie posts to know what she drinks.
Evie opens her eyes and locks gazes with me. Probably wondering how I know Bree’s adult coffee preferences but didn’t know hers. And why Bree drinks the strong stuff now and she doesn’t. I can read this woman like a book, even after all this time, and I give her an encouraging little smile. It’s just coffee, Evie.
“How did you know I was here?” she asks Bree, finding her voice at last. “Where have you been ?”
Now it’s Bree who looks unsure. I can see she’s trying to stamp down the anger. Where has she been? Where has Evie been? I hope she can hold on through this turbulent reunion.
“Your parents called me last night,” she explains. “Pretty much went straight to the airport. The only flight was a red-eye from Perth via Melbourne.”
“Perth?”
“I play there now.”
“Don’t be modest, Breanna,” I cut in. “She’s first violinist with the West Australian Symphony Orchestra.”
Evie’s eyes widen and her hand shoots to her heart. “This was your dream !”
“It was a nightmare to get there. A lot of hard work. A lot of rejection,” Bree starts explaining. She’s always been transparent about her success.
“Please tell me I helped you through that …” Evie says, leaning toward Bree. She’s going to be disappointed.
“Make it a double shot, Drew?” Bree asks, letting go of Evie’s hand to readjust the cushions.
Evie, once again, looks worried. And Bree is wary, the way I am. It’s like Evie’s wearing a bomb and the two of us are SWAT operatives attempting to dismantle it. We know where the wires go, but we don’t want to trip something and have the whole thing explode.
“I’m sorry about Oliver,” Bree says.
“I don’t know Oliver,” Evie replies bluntly. “I don’t miss him. I don’t know anything about us. I sat there and watched the slideshow at the funeral and didn’t recognize any of it. I didn’t like it, Bree. How in hell did I end up here?”
“I’m not on social media much anymore,” Bree explains. “We’ve been deep in rehearsals. We’re doing one of those Star Wars movie screenings, playing the soundtrack live, you know?”
Evie doesn’t know. She looks confused.
“So I didn’t hear about the accident.”
“Would you have come to the funeral?” Evie asks. She looks at me, knowing that I almost made it up those steps but didn’t quite, and that her parents were similarly defeated.
To her credit, Bree holds it together, while years of hurt flash through her eyes and diplomacy floats to the surface.
“I’m here now.”