Evie
evie
“ W hat do you think, Bagel?” I fluff the large burgundy bow in the floral arrangement I made, the last of the finishing touches. I don’t know Daphne or Henry or their style very well, but you can’t go wrong with silk flowers and pampas. The neutral pinks, magentas, and beiges will be a perfect aesthetic addition to any nursery.
Once more, I ponder about whether Daphne even likes the color pink. However, she and Henry did just name their new baby girl Roselyn.
If she doesn’t like pink, it’s an easy fix.
Bagel lets out a woof of approval as I browse the silk flowers and artificial embellishments I’ve collected over the last two weeks. My kitchen table is messy with wrappings and ribbons, vases and fish bowls, and different colored decorative rocks and stones.
I’ve always liked decorating, and the travel blog plus the social media account I started when I was abroad is at a standstill with adventures for now. So, I decided to pivot. I’m going to merge my travel accounts with staging and decorating ideas, and hopefully, some brands will want to work with me so I can keep my life schedule-free and come and go when I want to.
There’s still money left from the sale of my parents’ house, and for some reason, after the holidays, I decided to rent a condo in the city instead of looking into a travel van so Bagel and I could cross-country road trip and stay wherever we wanted for as long as we wanted.
At least it’s just a month-to-month lease.
A buzzing sound comes from underneath a pile of ribbons. I hurriedly shove random silks and chiffons in a rainbow of colors out of the way until I find my phone and see Eric’s name flashing across the screen. A photo of him and Archer stares up at me as I swipe my finger to answer the call.
“Hey!” I greet over-enthusiastically, wincing as the pitch of my voice resonates through my tiny kitchen.
“Hey there, I’m about to leave my house, and I was wondering if you’d like to go to Daphne and Henry’s with me?” Eric’s tone is hopeful, and there’s a slight pinch in my chest before a flood of warmth encompasses my lungs.
“I would love that.” Reaching up to rub my sternum, my knuckles graze the Northern Star pendant around my neck. I still haven’t taken it off, thinking of Jonathan whenever I touch it or glimpse it in the mirror, but the more Eric and I talk, the less and less the other man enters my thoughts.
We hang up after he tells me how long it will take him to get to my apartment. Panicked, I run to my room to try and find a presentable outfit that isn’t just the leggings and oversized sweater I’ve been living in for the past week.
It’s been two weeks since we’ve seen each other—not for lack of trying. While my schedule is wide open, Eric’s job is demanding, and he travels a lot. Honestly, it reminds me a lot of my ex-husband, Steven, and by the third time Eric had to cancel our plans, it left me with a lousy feeling—despite our long text conversations that have become our way of getting to know each other.
Emerging from my room dressed in black skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder red sweater, I rush into the bathroom to brush my hair, using at least half a can of dry shampoo to eliminate my oily roots.
“Thank God I curled it yesterday,” I mumble aloud, hairspraying a few random strands so they’ll stop sticking straight out.
Behind me, Bagel wags his tail while watching me get ready, no doubt thinking that we’re about to go for a walk.
“I’m sorry, buddy. We’ll go as soon as I get back, I promise.” I bend down and kiss him on the little peanut on the top of his head.
He gives me a woof of approval and turns to grab a squeaky toy in the shape of a shark, shaking his head back and forth as he bites into it before padding over to his bed. It takes no less than three full circles before he plops onto the red and black flannel throw I laid down for him, and he props his head on the raised edge with the toy still in his mouth.
“Such a good boy,” I coo. His tail wags in appreciation, and he closes his eyes, falling asleep in that manner only cats and dogs have the ability to do.
Returning to my kitchen table, I grab another beige pampas for the bouquet, fussing with it for another few minutes before deciding there are too many neutral tones and the colors aren’t balanced.
Just as I put the finishing touches on my gift for Daphne, a text comes through from Eric.
Almost there.
After collecting my keys and purse, I shrug into my black shearling jacket before pulling on my knee-high black boots.
Did I have a sense of style pre-divorce? Yes.
Did that sense of style turn trash-panda chic afterward? Also, yes.
And after spending so much time in Europe, where I wore the same five outfits made of basics I could mix and match, I felt like travel ’s sense of style was going to follow me forever. However, since arriving in Chicago and hanging around Kendall again, the urge to put myself together and dress a little cuter has hit me full force .
Sure, it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re attracted to Eric and want him to think you’re capable of dressing yourself without looking like a toddler who found clothes in the dark.
Eric is waiting by a white Chevy Silverado when I reach ground level. He’s all smiles as he leans against his truck, looking positively edible in dark blue jeans and a tight black Henley beneath a charcoal peacoat. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
Shivers dance down my spine, and it’s not because of the slight breeze in the air today. “Hi.”
Well, that came out more timid than I meant it. Come on, . You’re not a shy girl. Get it together!
His perfect pearly whites gleam as his smile widens. “Hi.”
He reaches for the bouquet in my hand, grabs the other to bring to his lips, and presses a soft kiss against the back of it. My cheeks grow warm. Eric’s eyes never leave mine as he steps into me. “How are you, Evelyn?”
Oh, we’re using my full name now? Excuse me while I melt into a puddle.
“I’m good.” There, my voice has returned with its usual confidence. “How are you? Didn’t you just get back today?”
“Yeah,” he turns to open the passenger door and helps me in, “I have to leave again soon, too.” He gives me an apologetic glance as he hands me the bouquet. “This is pretty. Did you make it?”
Ignoring the sting of disappointment at hearing that he’s leaving again, I focus on my creation and smile with a shrug. “Yeah. I thought it would be nice for the nursery. I think I’m going to try and make a career out of it.”
“Definitely planning on sticking around, then?” He grins up at me since I’m a little higher than him sitting in his truck. He’s still in the open doorway of the passenger side, barely any space between us as he gives me his undivided attention. His light eyes sparkle, and I notice tiny flecks of green spotted throughout the blue of his irises.
“Was the renting of a condo not evidence enough?” I smirk at him impishly.
His eyebrows shoot into his hairline and he bites his bottom lip, something I’ve never seen a man do, but now all I can think of is what those teeth would feel like biting into my thighs.
“Don’t be a smartass,” he gently, but playfully, scolds as he buckles me in like a child. It’s a considerate gesture, making me think Eric has a caring tendency, and I remember how he was with Daphne on New Year’s Eve before her husband arrived.
The simple act sets my insides aflame and has me wishing that the giant bouquet wasn’t in the way, because as he leans over my body, all I want to do is attack him with my lips.
Down girl! Geesh, you really need to get laid.
As if my pussy agrees, it clenches around air when I inhale Eric’s woodchip scent. The air thickens between us as he pulls back, eyes dropping to my lips, which are parted slightly. His throat bobs as his gaze flickers back up .
A shrill blare like a nuclear warning snaps us both out of the moment, and he winces, shutting my door as he pulls his phone from his pocket. He answers it as he walks around the truck, pausing near the front to argue with whoever called.
I can barely make out what he’s saying, but it sounds like it has to do with work. Dropping my eyes to the bouquet, I let out a sigh. My ex-husband, Steven, was always working long hours and traveling for his job. Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a big deal if I had worked as well, but Steven hadn’t wanted me to. He’d wanted me home all day, cleaning and having dinner ready for him on the table when he got home when he was in town.
It was a lonely life—for both of us, obviously, since he impregnated his secretary and moved her into our home before I even had my bags packed.
Is that something I want to go through again? Always waiting at home for my man to be available?
No, . No, you do not.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Eric says as he climbs into his truck. “Work is never-ending, unfortunately.”
A noncommittal hum vibrates in my throat as I stare out the window, watching the busy streets as we head across the city toward South Loop, where Daphne and Henry’s penthouse is. They have two homes—one here and one about thirty or so minutes away in the suburbs, not far from Kendall’s home.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, pulling my attention across the truck .
“Yeah,” I reply softly. “So, what exactly is it that you do for work, anyway?”
“I’m a lead cybersecurity specialist for a large corporation. They just moved their headquarters to New York, so I’ve had to go back and forth a lot. I think they’re looking to merge with another big tech company there, which, unfortunately for me, means longer hours and a possible second home at this rate.” He sounds frustrated—all his earlier playfulness depleted with one simple phone call.
“What do you do with Archer if you’re always gone?”
Eric has the grace to look embarrassed as he admits, “I’m one of those assholes who got him licensed as an emotional support animal. I know I’m awful. But I can’t bear to put him down in cargo, and I buy him his own seat. Honestly, I’m kinda like his emotional support human, so, really, it works out.”
A soft laugh escapes me. Archer has separation anxiety, so it does track.
“But New York City is no place for a German shepherd. Not unless I want to buy a townhouse with a yard, and I don’t like the city enough to drop that much money on a place.”
I don’t really know what to say to that. So, I just reply with, “Sounds exhausting.”
He sighs, turning into a large complex and pulling the truck into guest parking. “It sure the hell is.”
Eric helps me out of the truck, and it’s not until we’re in the elevator that I realize we’re still holding hands. It feels natural, and the size of his palm against mine feels like our hands were made to fit together.
A woman who introduces herself as Maggie, Henry’s mother, opens the door when we arrive. She and Eric exchange pleasantries before leading us further into the giant penthouse. I knew Daphne came from money, but this is a level of wealth that makes me feel out of place.
Everything is some shade of beige or cream. There are crystal chandeliers and matching furniture edged in what looks like real gold. Off to the right is a set of French doors leading out to a rooftop that looks like…
“Is that a garden?” I ask, shock lacing my voice. Bright, colorful flowers are in full bloom even though it’s the middle of January, and beyond them, a turquoise pool is situated at the very end, overlooking the city.
Eric laughs. “Oh yeah, it’s very popular. There are windows that keep the temperature where it needs to be, but they can be retracted in the summer.”
What in the rich people?
“! You made it!” Daphne exclaims as she comes out of a door on the other side of the living room, sounding well-rested for just giving birth a week ago.
When I turn, Henry is next to her with a bundle of pink in his arms, speaking softly to their newborn as he carries her over to show off his newest pride and joy. Proud papa doesn’t even begin to categorize the look on his face.
Daphne looks like she just came from a photo shoot, dressed in a dusty blue maxi dress and a cream open-front shrug sweater. Her long blonde hair is piled on top of her head in a way I can only dream of doing with mine, and Eric’s eyes warm when he sees her, sending a tiny flit of annoyance through me.
“Hi. Congratulations, by the way. She’s beautiful.” I return the hug she gives me before turning my attention to their little girl. “Hi there, little Roselyn.”
“Is this for us? Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful! I’ve never seen anything like this before. Did you make it?” Daphne asks, taking the bouquet from my hands. I’m glad I decided to stick with the beige and pink instead of making it too bright.
“Yeah, it’s just a little something I played around with. I thought it would be cute in her nursery.” I look over at Eric, who is cooing at Roselyn with a beaming smile. He moves like he’s going to try to take her from Henry, but proud papa’s arms tense, and Eric immediately backs off, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Oh, Henry!” Daphne swats at him. “Let him hold her.” She turns back to me. “Do you wanna see the nursery? We have one here and at the other house; I’ll have to commission you to make one for there, too. Maggie! Come look at what made.”
As we walk through the house, Maggie joins us, oohing and ahhing over the bouquet. “Oh, the ladies in my gardening club would just love this. We should hire you to come teach us how to make these!”
The nursery is swathed in cream with pink embellishments everywhere. It’s filled with stuffed animals and toys that Roselyn is years away from enjoying, a fully stocked closet, and a crib that I somehow feel she won’t need anytime soon. Henry seems pretty content with her nestled in his arms, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he sleeps upright just so he can keep holding her.
I won’t lie. It’s hard being in this room. It takes everything I have to shove the tears down as I feel them pricking my eyes.
“Do you like to decorate? I can only imagine what your place looks like if you’re able to make cool things like this. I can stage and pick out things, but I don’t have a creative bone in my body.” Daphne laughs as she places my gift on a shelf by the window.
Managing to swallow my grief, I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I do. I love to create things and paint.”
“Oh! Maybe you can paint something in here! I was thinking something like a fairytale woodland creature vibe, you know? Something mystical and magical,” Daphne explains.
My first thought is how on earth I can manage to do it without breaking down, but after that comes the idea that it would be a great opportunity to showcase my abilities for my social media account.
You can’t dwell on the past, .
By the time we return to the living room, where the guys are now sitting on the couch, Henry—much to our surprise—is handing Roselyn over to Eric, fussing about him holding her head just right. Maggie is standing behind them, watching over Henry’s shoulder and lightly scolding him about how Eric is an adult and can handle holding a baby.
Pain and something softer, warmer, battle in my chest as I watch Eric. His whole face lights up, and I swear tears shine in his eyes when he looks up at Daphne. “I’m so fucking happy for you, Daph.”
His gaze slides to mine, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. With a smile, he says, “I know. I’m a sap. I just love babies.”
Not wanting to lose my shit in front of a bunch of people I barely know, I awkwardly return his smile. “Yeah, a baby looks good on you.”
“One day, it will happen. Don’t give up hope,” Daphne tells him as she sits on Henry’s lap and wraps an arm around his neck.
I feel like I’m intruding on a special moment I’m not meant to be a part of. Something passes between Eric and Daphne as they smile at one another, and then to Henry, because he’s obviously a part of their odd little equation.
Not many women are comfortable with how close we all are. I remember Eric’s statement from New Years.
I want to be. The fact that they’re still close doesn’t bother me at all. But it’s clear that one day, Eric wants a family, and I can’t give that to him.
So, I might as well bow out before things get complicated and sticky. I have a feeling I could fall for Eric just as easily as I did for Jonathan.
And I don’t think I can handle having my heart broken like that again.
“Shit!” Eric curses as he hangs up his phone. “I’m so sorry, .”
“It’s okay,” I tell him, not tearing my eyes away from the window.
He’d talked me into having dinner with him once we left Daphne and Henry’s, but his work called when we were on our way to the restaurant and told him he needed to go into the office.
It’s probably better this way.
“No. It’s really not. I feel like I keep fucking this up.” I finally turn my head to see him white-knuckling the steering wheel. His elbow is propped against the window, and he sighs as he scrubs his face with his hand.
“Don’t worry about it.” I shrug when he looks over at me. “Friends. Remember?”
The rest of the ride is quiet, the only sound coming from the country music playing on the radio and the sound of horns as vehicles aggressively pass one another, fighting to get a fraction ahead of the other cars.
Eric insists on riding up the elevator with me when we reach my place, bending to play with Bagel as my energetic pup jumps on him and licks his face as soon as I open the door. “Oh, Archer is gonna be pissed at me when he smells you,” he tells him with a laugh.
I attach the leash to his collar, and we walk Eric back down, waving at the concierge—a nice older gentleman named Phil—as we pass through the lobby, so that Bagel can do his business and I can say bye. I try not to put too much stock into the fact that Eric didn’t just drop me off and leave, trying to spend as much time with me as possible, even though he needs to go to work.
“Do I at least get a hug?” he asks, opening his arms wide. He looks slightly concerned as I step into his embrace.
The earlier sexual tension between us has melted away—chased by the interruption to our plans, paired with the knowledge that Eric wants a family someday, and I can’t give that to him…ever.
As if he can sense my hesitation, his arms loosen and he steps back, sliding his hands down to mine. “Is everything alright, ?”
“Yeah, I’m just more tired than I thought. Guess it’s a good thing our plans had to change.” I try to smile, but it’s weary and doesn’t reach my eyes.
If Eric notices, he doesn’t push it and just squeezes my hands. “Okay, well. Talk later? I’m hoping I can stick around for at least a few days before having to fly back to New York.”
The urge to kiss me flares in his eyes, bare and bright enough for me to see. But I rotate my hands out of his hold, pressing them against his chest as I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “Talk later.”
Stepping back, I turn and gently pull on Bagel’s leash so he follows me, pausing when Eric asks, “Did I do something? I can’t help but feel like something’s changed since we were at Daphne and Henry’s.”
“No,” I say over my shoulder. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Eric.”
Once again, it’s just me who can’t get anything right.