Chapter Thirty-Three
Noah
I follow Evie into her house after school on Tuesday. We have an LRG assignment due on Thursday and we want to get it out of the way so it won’t interfere with band practice. We’ll be very busy for the next few days practicing for our gigs.
We settle down at her messy desk and take our school things out of our backpacks. I can’t help myself and place her papers into a neat pile, causing an eye roll from her. But she doesn’t mess it back up like she did in the past.
“Okay,” she says as she reads the assignment.
“We’re in serious trouble, hubby. We got into a major fight and I’m packing a suitcase and staying with my parents for a little while.
Mrs. Duncan wants us to handle the situation.
” She raises her brow. “You must have ticked me off super badly, huh? What did you do?”
“Maybe you ticked me off.”
“I’m the one leaving, so obviously you ticked me off. Pretty typical, wouldn’t you think?”
I bend closer. “Or maybe I caught you on a date with another guy.”
Her lips snap shut and she gapes at me. I shift in my seat. I have no idea why I said that.
Clearing my throat, I take the paper from her and pretend to busy myself with it. “Sorry,” I say after a bit. “That was uncalled for.”
“Yeah, it was. When are you going to lay off me and Cam? I already told you I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”
I hold up my hands. “I’m sorry. I won’t bring him up again. But…you’re happy, right?”
She pauses. Or maybe I’m imagining it. “Yeah.” She clears her throat. “I’m happy with him.”
I nod slowly. “Okay. Cool. Good for you.” I force a smile. “Right, so back to our marriage. It doesn’t matter who ticked off whom. The bottom line is that you’re moving out. How do we handle it?”
She shrugs. “Let me leave. A few days apart will do us good.”
I twist my mouth. “No. I wouldn’t let you leave. I’d do whatever it takes to convince you to stay with me and Melly.”
She lifts a brow. “Let me? What gives you the right to tell me what to do? Oh, I see. You don’t want me to leave because you don’t want to take care of our baby all by yourself.”
“No,” I stress, staring into her beautiful eyes. “I don’t want you to leave because you’re my wife, the mother of my daughter, and I love you.”
Her eyebrows shoot up so high they nearly disappear in her hairline. My eyes are as wide as the sun when I realize what I just said.
“You know, for the assignment,” I quickly sputter.
“Y-yeah. I knew that.”
“I’d do anything, anything, to convince you to stay.”
She doesn’t say anything as she continues to stare at me like she can’t believe I just said that. But why did I say that?
Maybe I’m really getting into my character of a fake husband. Or…or maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something.
But that’s impossible. I just told Mom the other day that I don’t love Evie. So why is my heart confusing me?
Evie blinks, seeming to snap out of it. “Right. So you don’t want me to leave. You want us to kiss and make up.” Her lips snap shut and her eyes are as wide as mine were only a few seconds ago. “I mean…”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to bring up whatever happened between us. To just lay it on the table. But she’s dating someone else and it’s silly to talk about us when there isn’t even an us.
There’s a thick, awkward silence between us that I wish I could make disappear.
“So…excited for our upcoming gigs?” I ask her, to change the subject.
She glances up at me. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure. Why do you ask?”
I run my fingers through my hair. “No reason. How are the designs for our ads and flyers coming along?”
“All done. Want to see the flyer? I think you’ll love it.”
“Sure.”
She sifts through the piles of papers on her desk, and I can’t help the groan that escapes my lips. Of course she can’t find anything in that mess.
“I think I left it in the basement. Let me—”
I shoot to my feet. “I’ll get it.” I’ll grab any chance to escape this awkwardness.
My mind’s a mess of thoughts as I go down the stairs to her studio. What will it take for my brain and heart to stop thinking about her that way? She doesn’t have feelings for me—why would she when she can’t stand to be around me? Then why did she seem to enjoy herself with me at her party?
Because we were different people. Living in an alternate universe. That’s why we danced and almost kissed. The real us have no business feeling that way about the other. I have no business feeling that way about her.
Anyway, what does it matter? She likes that Cam guy. The more I think about those two together, the more it’s like a dagger to my heart. Which is so silly. Why can’t I just let her go when she clearly doesn’t care about me at all?
I shove my thoughts away and scan around the basement. Man, this place is ten times worse than her car and room. There’s so much junk in here and I can hardly move. How can she stand being here?
Glancing around some more, I search for the flyer, but I can’t find it anywhere. Maybe I shouldn’t have volunteered to come down here.
As I move things aside to get deeper into the basement, I tidy up a little, just to make a path so Evie or a member of her family wouldn’t get hurt.
It’s driving me insane how chaotic this room is, but what drives me the most insane? There’s an area behind a wall where a whole lot of junk is leaning against. All it would take is one object to fall and then it would be a domino effect.
Sighing, I make my way there and am about to put everything neatly against the wall, but I stop when I notice a painting among the junk. That’s odd. Why would Evie place a painting here? As far as I know, this doesn’t look like her garbage pile.
Pulling it out, I nearly lose my breath when I take in the guy in the portrait. Sandy brown hair, bright blue eyes, a kind smile on his face.
It’s me.
Evie painted…me.
Why would she paint me?
As I study it, my heart galloping in my chest, I notice that she painted me very differently from how I look in real life. Yes, my features are identical, but there’s something about it. A kind of light in my eyes that I don’t see on myself. She made me look happy and full of hope for the future.
She captured me the way I wish I could look but am too afraid to.
Shaking that off, I focus on the fact that Evie Hastings—the girl who can’t stand me, the girl who’s seeing another guy—painted me.
As far as I can tell, she didn’t paint Cam, or even the guys from the band.
Why me? What does it mean?
If she stashed it here, it must mean that she didn’t want anyone to find it. Least of all me, I’m sure. But why didn’t she just throw it out? If I don’t mean anything to her, why keep it?
Is it possible I do mean something to her?
No, it can’t be. Why would she date another guy if she was hoping we’d…no. No. I’m thinking too much into this.
“Noah? You down there? Did you find it?” Evie calls from the top of the stairs.
I nearly drop the portrait. “Y-yeah!” I call back. “I found it. Just trying to make my way through this mess. Seriously, Evie.”
“You shouldn’t have offered to go to my lair.”
I’m hardly listening as she goes on to talk about the basement being her place and how she can’t create masterpieces if it’s too clean.
I just continue staring at the portrait she painted of me.
My fingers trace along my features, the expression I wish I could have in real life but am too nervous to have.
“Are you coming?” she calls again. “Do I need to come down there and dig you out?”
“N-no! I’m okay!” After giving it one more glance, I carefully place it where I found it, then search for the flyer. Once I find it buried under other things, I climb the stairs.
Evie smiles. “So? What do you think?”
I blink at her. “Hmm?”
She nods at the paper in my hand. “The flyer.”
“Oh.” I glance at it. She designed the band’s logo very beautifully, with vibrant colors and captivating drawings. “Really neat.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “Are you okay?”
“What?”
“You go down there totally normal and then you return a zombie?”
I stare down into the basement like I’ve never seen it before. Then I get a hold of myself, feeling silly for making such a big deal about her painting me.
She obviously dumped it there because she doesn’t care about it. So why should I?
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I give her a look. “I lost some brain cells diving through that mess you call an art studio. I thought your car was a dumpster, but this is way, way worse.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She snatches the flyer from my hand. “We’ll make copies of this and pass them around for our next gig.”
I barely nod as I follow her back up to her room to finish our project. Turns out neither of us wants her to stay with her parents. We work on communicating our concerns and we come up with good solutions to our problems. I think Mrs. Duncan will be pleased with our work.
Evie throws her hands up. “Why are you staring at me?” she demands.
I blink. “What?”
“You’ve been staring at me all afternoon. Do I have something in my hair? Other than paint, I mean.”
My fingers itch to brush through her strands. But I quickly shake those thoughts away and get to my feet. “We finished the assignment. I’m heading home.”
“You’re not staying for dinner? Mom’s making lasagna.”
Shaking my head, I fling my backpack strap over my shoulder. “Not tonight. Got homework. And I need to work on more songs for our gigs.”
“Need help?”
“No,” I say a bit too sharply. She’s taken aback with wide eyes. “Sorry. I meant I need to do this alone.”
“Oh. Okay. See ya, I guess.”
I clear my throat, glancing away because I can’t stand seeing the disappointment on her face. I know she likes writing songs with me, but I need to put some space between us or I’ll lose my mind.
I was bothered that she met Cam, but I guess I was slowly accepting it. But now that I found her portrait of me, I feel like she and I…gosh she has a boyfriend. Or a potential boyfriend.
Why can’t I just let her go?
“Let me walk you out,” she offers.
“No. I’m good. See you tomorrow.”
“Okay…bye,” she says in a confused tone as I dash out of her room.
Before I leave, though, I turn my head to face her and find her staring at me. After quickly whipping around, I make my way out of the house, to my car, and go for a drive to try to clear my head.
But all I see before my eyes is that portrait of me. And the girl who painted it.