Chapter 32 Nate
NATE
The blind on the door rattles as Nora and I step inside our building, the familiar smell of ink, paper, and coffee wrapping around me. “Morning, Louise,” I say, tossing the van keys Evan left behind above my palm and then catching them again.
Louise lifts an eyebrow behind her reception desk. “Someone’s in a good mood this morning.”
I grin, shrugging off my jacket. “Always in a good mood, Lou.”
“Mm,” she hums, unconvinced.
Cal laughs behind me. “Not before 9:00 a.m. you’re not.” He pats me on the back. “Why are you so early?” He looks at Nora with a grin. “Did he wet the bed?”
Nora laughs beside me, slipping out of her coat. I lean down and press a quick kiss to her lips before I head towards the kitchen.
She smiles at me, cheeks pink, then follows Cal to her desk in the open-plan studio.
I pour two coffees and carry them into the office, but Evan isn’t here. His chair is empty, his computer screen black, his desk untouched.
He’s usually here before me, notebook open, Post-it notes attached to his screen with his appointments for the day.
I place his mug on his desk and drop the van keys on mine, my chest tightening. Did he even get home last night? I thought it was odd seeing the van still parked outside my house this morning. Thought he’d slept in it until I found the keys in his work clothes on the bedroom floor.
I pop my head back into the studio and shout, “Anyone seen Ev?”
Louise shakes her head. “Not yet. No message either.”
I frown, checking the time. Still early enough that it doesn’t mean anything. Probably overslept. I pull my phone from my pocket and call him. It rings, then goes to voicemail.
I pace the office and call again, my pulse quickening, hands sweating. He’s a grown man. He probably called someone. His tools are in the van, surely he wouldn’t go to the Lakeside Grill without them. Plus, he said the install is done.
My stomach clenches. Evan doesn’t disappear like this. Not without saying something. I stare at my phone, my thumb hovering over his name again. Something’s wrong.
I settle at my desk, opening the job schedule for the day, but my attention keeps drifting towards the door.
Ten minutes pass and I’ve done nothing but read the same email over and over again.
I ring through to Louise. “What meetings does Evan have today?” Maybe he went straight to see a client.
“Nothing until 11:30,” she says.
“Thanks.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, fine.” I keep my voice steady, not wanting to worry Nora. I drum my fingers against the desk and text him.
Nate: You alive?
Another ten minutes. Nora enters the office. “Ev’s still not here.”
I check my phone. Still nothing. “Yeah, I know.”
“He’s never late.”
I breathe through my nostrils. “I’m sure he just overslept. He said he was tired yesterday after the refit.” I rise from the chair and grab the van keys, ready to drive over to his place, unable to stand it any longer. I’m usually the calm and collected one, but my stomach is in knots.
I kiss Nora on the cheek. “I need to pop out. Won’t be long.” I step into the studio now buzzing with people, and Evan drifts past Louise at reception.
My shoulders drop, tension lifting, and I exhale a long breath.
Nora follows my gaze, sensing my relief. “You still need to pop out?”
I toss the keys back on my desk. “Not anymore.”
She lifts on her tiptoes, kisses my cheek and wanders back to her desk in the studio, ruffling Evan’s messy hair on her way by. I can’t hear their conversation from here, but they’re both smiling, which puts me at ease. But as he enters our office, he stiffens.
His glasses sit slightly crooked on his nose, and there’s a shadow of stubble along his jaw that he normally wouldn’t let grow this much. “Morning,” he says, shuffling past me, avoiding eye contact.
“You’re alive, then?” I huff and sit back behind my desk, the leather creaking as I wheel myself forward.
“Yeah,” he says, pushing his fingers through his hair as if styling it. “Just knackered.” His voice sounds rough, like he’s just woken up.
I toss him the van keys, but he fumbles the catch and they drop into his lap. “How’d you get home last night?”
He gulps, his neck bobbing as he fiddles with his tie. “I walked.”
I laugh. “You live miles away.”
He still doesn’t look at me. Instead, he turns on his computer and shuffles papers on his desk. “I went for a run.”
I blink. “You ran across town?”
He shrugs, lifting the coffee on his desk and taking a sip, then spitting it out because it’s definitely cold by now. “Needed the exercise.”
I lean forward on my desk. “Bit extreme, mate.”
He finally turns to look me in the eye. “What do you want me to say, Nate?”
“I want you to tell me the truth.” I exhale and lean against the backrest, the chair tilting backwards as I swivel to face him. “If you’re pissed about the Emilie thing, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she meant that much to you. Clearly, I was wrong.”
“I’m not bothered about that,” he snaps, then rubs at his temple as if massaging away a headache.
“So what is it then?”
He exhales through his nose, eyes fixed on his screen as if his emails need his full concentration. “Nothing. Just didn’t sleep much.”
“I was about to drive over to your place. I—” My voice breaks and I clear my throat. “I thought something happened to you.”
His fingers pause on the keyboard. “I’m here now.” A crease forms in his brow as if he’s as troubled as I was a few minutes ago.
“So we’re good?” I squeeze the pen in my hand and stare at him for a beat too long.
Outside the office, the studio buzzes with activity.
“Yeah, course.” He continues typing on his keyboard, then pauses with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”
I swivel my chair back towards my desk. “No worries. Cal wants you to take a gander at his revisions for the gym signage, and I promised Mark and Michael a proof for next week.”
“No problem.” He cracks his fingers. “I’ll get on with the designs.”
I rise from my seat and take the few steps towards him, and rest my hand on his stiff shoulder as I lean over to collect the cold mug from his desk. “You want a fresh coffee?”
He relaxes slightly under my hand, and I leave it there a second longer than necessary before forcing myself to move away. “Nora wondered if you were coming for dinner tonight. She was gonna make something nice.”
“I, er…” he glances up at me, then focuses back on the screen. “I can’t tonight. I promised my mum I’d stop by.”
I nod and trudge towards the door with his mug. “Another night, then. I’ll let Nora know.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
I carry his mug out to the kitchen, rinsing it under the tap absentmindedly while the kettle boils. Behind me, the office carries on like normal—Louise laughing, Nora talking to Cal about colour palettes—the usual noise of a regular morning.
Everything exactly the same. Except it isn’t. I peer back through the glass wall of the office.
Evan sits rigid at his desk, shoulders tight, eyes fixed on the screen like he’s trying to disappear into it. Normally he’d be out here throwing ideas across the room, winding me up about something stupid.
The kettle clicks off. I pour the water into the mug and stand there, staring through the steam. Last night with the three of us, everything finally slid into place. This morning it’s falling apart.
I pick up the mug and head back to the office. Maybe it’s nothing. But the closer I get, the tighter my stomach knots.
Something’s changed.
And whatever it is, Ev’s not willing to discuss it.