18. Evie Wilder
Chapter eighteen
Evie Wilder
I take a deep breath, watching my chest rise and fall in the full-length mirror I set up in the living room. I thought it would open up the small space more, but as anxiety courses through my body, I still feel like the whole room is caving in on me. It’s game day–for the Thrashers, that is. And I was invited to come to the game with Maverick…as well as most of his family plus Drew and Kayla. Since MJ is married to the head coach, the whole family has access to private box seats for every home game. According to Maverick, they try to go support Sebastian and the team every chance they get.
It would be nice to see everyone for the first time in years some place other than a stadium full of screaming fans. But Maverick assured me that the box was quieter than I think, and it will be a relaxed way to see everyone. I’m certain the attention won’t all be on me, since the Carters are notoriously obsessive fans. So that’s at least one upside to this situation .
I tug at the hem of the oversized jersey Maverick gave me. I have some Thrashers gear, but most of it is still in boxes, and probably doesn’t fit my post-pregnancy body. When I tried to use that as an excuse to not come, Maverick insisted I borrowed this. So now I’m not only going to see his whole family, but I’m going to do so in his clothes. Everyone will know that this isn’t mine. Based on the speckled lettering, Maverick wears this often. What will they think?
My hands start to shake. This is too much. I’m not ready to see all of them. They’re going to have so many questions. Even if they don’t voice them, I’ll be able to see them in their eyes. They might even hate me for leaving and ignoring their calls. If Maverick told them anything about how hard it was to get me to come back here, then surely they must think I’m awful.
“You okay up there, Wilder?” Maverick calls out from the bottom of the stairs.
I tuck my hands underneath my arms to try and still their nervous shaking. He wouldn’t force me to go if I said I didn’t feel good. I meet my wide-eyed expression in the mirror. I look almost as terrified as I feel. This shouldn’t be so hard. I used to go to multiple parties a week. I frequented club openings and never met a stranger. I’ve danced on tables, but now I’m balking at the idea of going to a football game. I’m pathetic.
Footsteps coming up the stairs make my heart rate quicken. I regret placing the mirror in the living room, because now I have nowhere to hide. I spin around just in time to see Maverick’s foot falter on the top step. He regains his balance, his eyes roving over me in a way I haven’t seen before.
“I’m sorry I’m making us late,” I blurt out. His brown eyes shoot up to mine, worry crinkling his brow .
“Are you all right? You look like you’re about to be sick.”
I pinch my lips together, willing myself not to get emotional. “I’m not sick, though I am tempted to lie and tell you otherwise to get out of this.”
He gives me a soft smile, before taking my hands in his and squeezing them. I draw comfort from the feeling, not caring that I should keep my distance. The last time I felt his touch was two days ago while he was teaching me to box. I’d run away, and stayed away. I couldn’t let him see just how broken I am. Unfortunately, he makes it very hard to stay away because he’s so kind. Also because he lives below me.
“It’s going to be okay. Everyone is going to be so happy to see you. You’re going to have a great time, and you’ll probably have a calendar full of events.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh. His thumbs start to run over my knuckles. I take in a deep breath and let it out, barely suppressing a hum. His hands holding mine somehow takes away all my anxiety. That’s not a good thing , my brain reminds me. You shouldn’t depend on him.
Before I make any more mistakes, I take a step back and pull my hands away. Hurt flickers over his features, stabbing at my heart. I don’t want him to think I hate him, but I can’t use him to fix all my problems either.
“Okay, I’ll go, but only because I’m craving nachos.” I glance over at where Beckham is laying on his back on his playmat. “And because Beckham looks adorable in his little blue onesie.”
“Whatever the reason, I’ll take it. I’m just happy you’re coming” He smiles down at me, the sadness from before gone .
I go and scoop Beckham up off the ground, hoping that today will look more like Maverick’s vision than my own.
“Espeon!” Grayson cheers when I walk into the box. Everyone’s heads swivel in my direction, making me cringe.
“Hey, Grayson,” I say, walking into the room while Maverick holds the door open.
To my left is a bar area, complete with a table full of food. It looks more like a charcuterie board than gameday food. Grayson looks to be piling a plate with finger sandwiches. Up ahead is a series of seats in front of a large glass window, with a TV in the top right and left corners. Almost every spot is filled, some with people I know and some with people I don’t.
MJ stands, her waist-length hair swaying as she walks toward me. She’s got on an oversized Thrashers jersey similar to mine, but much older looking. It hangs off of her, though her bump pokes out against the fabric. The smile on her face is small, but she’s never been one for huge grins.
“I’m glad you could make it,” she says and I muster up a smile.
“Thanks for inviting us,” I say, pulling the baby sling back to reveal Beckham’s face pressed against my chest. He’s sleeping right now, though you’d think he’d have woken up with all the noise coming in. I guess living in a city that never sleeps paid off in that respect.
“I’d introduce you, but…” I trail off with a nervous laugh .
What does she think of me, coming in here with my fatherless baby while she’s pregnant and married to the love of her life?
“Oh, he’s so precious,” she whispers, leaning in toward him. I look over her shoulder and see Drew smiling at me while bouncing Archie on his knee. Kayla gives me a wave that I return.
I feel Maverick’s hand on my lower back. I don’t even have to look to know it’s him. He already feels so familiar that I think I could find him in a room full of people with my eyes closed. The thought scares me, but it’s no less true.
“Let me know if you don’t want people getting close to him. I’m fine to play the bad guy,” he says into my ear.
His proximity makes my breath catch, but his words help me to relax more. I’m getting emotional whiplash from everything I feel around him.
“Thank you,” I reply in a low tone.
“How about I introduce you to everyone you don’t already know?” Grayson interjects, his smile wide and welcoming, if a bit too energetic for how I’m feeling at the moment.
“Take things slow,” Maverick says. I want to scold him for treating me like a child, but I actually appreciate his words. Slow is good.
“Don’t get your flannel underwear in a twist,” Grayson says, making me laugh. “I’ll take care of her.”
Maverick’s mouth flattens into a very good Adrian impression. “ I take care of her.”
My stomach feels like a pile of leaves that the wind just picked up. The protective nature of his words makes me warm all over. I’m sure those same words will appear in my dreams tonight. If I’m lucky.
“Yes, yes, that’s very clear to anyone with eyes.” Grayson waves him off. “Now, let me introduce you to my future wife. You might know her as bestselling author Sloane Rose.” My eyebrows raise. While I haven’t read any of her books, becoming a bestselling author is no small feat.
“Do you want me to hold Beckham while you meet everyone?” Maverick asks me. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that shows he thinks this question is a risk, when in reality it melts my heart.
“That would be great, actually,” I say with a tentative smile. “Thank you.”
I carefully shift Beckham out of the sling and into Maverick’s arms. He looks even tinier, and it makes my smile grow. I lean in and kiss his forehead. When I pull back, Maverick is regarding me in a tender way that makes my heart skip.
Grayson quite literally pulls me out of the moment, and toward a beautiful, thin model of a woman. She rises out of her seat with all the elegance of a ballerina, her light brown ponytail swinging. She’s wearing Thrasher blue leggings, with a matching blue athletic jacket. Her hands wring together for a moment before she puts them in her pockets and gives me a nervous smile. Grayson lets go of my arm and steps to be side by side with her. He wraps an arm around her and draws her against his side.
“Eevee, this is the love of my life, the air in my lungs, my sole obsession: Sloane.”
She blushes at his praise, bumping her shoulder into him. “Gray, stop it.” He just gives her a boyish grin. She shakes her head and looks to me. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to call you Eevee. I know it’s Evie.”
I let out a laugh. “That’s kind of you.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “It’s nice to meet you. ”
“You as well. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She scrunches up her nose. “I mean, not in a bad way–”
“Rose,” Grayson cuts her off, kissing the crown of her head. My stomach swoops as I recall Maverick doing the same to me not long ago. “She knows what you mean.”
It’s sweet of Grayson to reassure her, but contrary to his words, I’m more likely to believe everyone here has been discussing all my mistakes in life since I cut off communication.
A throat clears behind me and I turn to find a beaming brunette, her arms linked with a reserved blonde woman. The brunette is wearing bright blue bell bottoms and a Thrashers t-shirt that’s been cut then tied at the edges. The blonde is wearing a blue plaid skirt, with matching knee high socks and a vintage-style Thrashers sweatshirt. They both look much more stylish than me in my old black leggings and Mav’s jersey with Beckham’s sling still wrapped around me.
“I’m Dahlia,” the brunette says, her grin wide even as she speaks. “I’m married to Levi.” I nod in recognition.
“And I’m Juliette,” the blonde says, much more soft-spoken than Dahlia. “I’m engaged to Adrian.”
“But they’ll be married next month,” Dahlia squeals, practically bouncing with energy.
“It’s nice to meet you both, I’m Evie.” There’s no addition to my name. What would I say? I’m Maverick’s…roommate? That hardly holds a candle to fiancée and wife.
“We’ve been dying to meet you since we heard you came back to town,” Dahlia says, surprising me.
“Really?” I can’t help but ask .
“Of course,” Juliette chimes in. “You grew up with everyone. We want to hear all the stories.”
“And we want to know what it’s like to work in the fashion industry. I’m so jealous of you.”
I have to stifle a laugh. Jealous? Of me ? Even if they don’t know all of my story, they must know that I’m staying at Maverick’s house with my son. There’s nothing to be jealous of a divorced single mom with no house or money of her own. I study their expressions, looking for anything that would imply insincerity. I find nothing. They genuinely want to get to know me.
“I’m sure Maddie would love to hear about your work too,” Grayson says from behind me. “I think she went to go get some cotton candy with Bash’s mom, but when she gets back she probably won’t leave your side. She wants to be a photographer.”
“Oh-okay,” I stutter out. I wasn’t expecting Maverick’s prediction to be anything close to right. I thought I’d be ostracized and he’d have to babysit me like he is Beckham.
Instead, I end up surrounded by each of the future Mrs. Carters, plus MJ and Maddie–who insists on calling me Aunt Evie–telling them all about the best parts of my life in New York City. For the first time since Ezra broke my heart, I find myself smiling when I talk about the city and my old job. No one asks me why I left. They don’t pry too much. It’s…nice. Refreshing, even.
Maybe I can start over after all.