Chapter 37 Evan
EVAN
Isit in the car with the engine off, hands still on the steering wheel, trying to figure out how one kiss has flipped my entire world upside down. The house glows ahead of me, a familiar warm light spilling through the bay window.
I pull my phone from my pocket and tap the screen.
Evan: I’m really sorry. Something’s come up. I can’t make it tonight.
The three dots appear almost immediately.
Emilie: Everything okay?
I swallow.
Evan: I’m fine. I’ll call you tomorrow and try to meet up before you head back down south.
I don’t wait for a reply. I lock the phone and drop it into my jacket pocket. My pulse is still racing, my mouth dry, my body still on fire with the ghost of Nate’s hands on my face. His lips. The way he said my name.
My chest is tight, like too much emotion packed into a small space. I’m terrified. Elated. Still buzzing from the kiss that’s seared into my skin. I’ve spent weeks telling myself I needed distance, that this was getting too real, and here I am ready to confess everything to Nora.
I reach over and grab the bouquet of flowers from the seat beside me. I take the beers from the footwell too, the clink of bottles loud in the quiet space. A peace offering. Or a bribe. Or maybe just an excuse to stand in their kitchen without saying everything I don’t know how to say yet.
I open the car door and step out, the autumn air cool against my flushed skin. The light from the living room window warm and inviting, like it always is.
Trudging up the path, I drag my legs like lead weights, unaware of what I’m walking into, but I don’t want to be anywhere else. Inhaling deeply, I open the front door and step into the house, something I’ve got used to doing since Nora and Nate both told me I don’t need to knock.
The house is eerily quiet. I wander down the hallway and into the dark kitchen. No lights on in here, no aroma of freshly baked goods or homemade cooking. I place the beers and the flowers on the worktop and push open the living room door, but stop in the doorway.
I freeze, taking in the scene. Nora curled up on Nate’s knee, her head buried in the crook of his neck as he strokes her hair, rocking gently. Neither of them making a sound apart from the odd sniffle coming from Nora.
Nate looks up with glassy eyes.
I hold my breath. Has he told her about the kiss already? I should go. I don’t want to make this worse. It’s like my whole world crumbling before my eyes. My shoulders curl inwards as my lungs collapse and my heart slowly sinks to my stomach. “Is this…” I gulp, “about—”
He shakes his head, then kisses Nora’s forehead and quietly says, “Evan’s here.”
Nora’s fingers fist the fabric of Nate’s shirt. Her shoulders hitch, then she presses her face harder into his neck as if trying to disappear into him. “I don’t want him to see me like this.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but in the silence I hear it crystal clear.
I’m on the outside again, waiting to be let in. I want to be part of the sad times and the good.
Nate strokes her hair and kisses her forehead again, his eyes bloodshot. “He cares about you. He doesn’t care what you look like.”
I move into the living room and round the sofa, tentatively sitting next to Nora and place my hand on her back. A million things race through my head. She left work early. “What’s happened?”
Nate locks eyes with me over her shoulder. “She’s come on.”
The words float between us, not fully registering.
Oh.
Oh fuck.
I close my eyes as pain shoots through my chest. I’ve known about the charts and ovulation kits. Their hope rising and falling as sure as the tide. But this—
I swallow the lump growing in my throat. This is the devastation. The part no one sees, including me.
Nate keeps rocking her as if it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. His jaw clenches so tight I can see the muscle ticking beneath his skin. He’s exhausted, as if the devastation each month has finally taken its toll on him.
“I’m sorry,” Nora whispers. “I really thought—”
“I know,” he murmurs into her hair. “I know you did.”
My stomach twists as if tying itself in knots. This isn’t just disappointment like not winning the lottery and you say, we’ll try again next week. This is grief.
This is what Nate has been carrying. It all makes sense now: the cancelled plans once a month, the days taken off work every cycle. Every month, he must hold her through this in silence, absorbing it all while staying solid, his own hopes collapsing alongside hers.
I’ve been walking into their home with jokes and timing windows and my own spirals, only ever seeing the good times and never truly understanding the weight he’s been bearing alone.
“Shh,” I say, my voice weak. I slide my palm down her spine. “I’m here now. You don’t need to hide this from me.” I glance back at Nate, my own eyes filling with unshed tears. “Neither of you.”
Nora lifts her head, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy. Her face crumples, and she lets out a fresh, strangled sob. “Ev,” she breathes, like my name is both comfort and torture.
Without overthinking, I wrap my arms around her from behind, sandwiching her between me and Nate as if creating a protective shield. This devastation has come from her own body, but I’m also to blame.
Guilt claws up my throat like acid. I should have tried harder. Should have slept with her more in those windows. Should have eaten those seeds and improved my diet. “I’m sorry, Nora.” I kiss the back of her head. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.” Her lip trembles. “I keep letting you both down.”
“No, doodles.” My voice strains. “You’re not letting anyone down.”
Nate’s hand stills in her hair, like he’s listening as much as she is.
“This isn’t failure.” I swallow around the tightness in my throat. “It’s just… cruel timing, biology, and shit luck.” I swipe the wet, matted hair from her cheek and kiss the streaks of black tears on her face. “We can try again.”
She leans into me, and I shift, guiding her gently onto my lap so I can hold all of her and take the responsibility from Nate. He doesn’t need to carry this alone. I’m here now.
I take over stroking her hair just like he was and gently rock her in my arms as I hold her tight.
“You don’t need to worry about this. Let me do all the work and the worrying for you.
We can do it more next time. I’ll make sure you’re pregnant before Christmas, and if not.
We can look at alternative methods abroad. ”
Nate gazes into my eyes, his heartbreak mirroring my own, but there’s a glimmer of hope there, like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm.
He rises from the sofa now that I’ve taken over.
“I’ll get you a hot water bottle.” As he rounds the sofa, he squeezes my shoulder as if showing how grateful he is that I’m here.
All he had to do was ask, and I would have been here years ago. I had no idea he was dealing with this every month. I guess I knew they had ups and downs, but nothing like the soul-shattering emptiness in their eyes.
A minute later Nate comes back into the room. “You brought me flowers?”
“Yeah, and beer. Which now feels wildly inappropriate.”
Nora sniffles. “I’ll take the beer right now.”
“You can have the beer and the flowers.” I squeeze her tightly. “You deserve the world.”
Nate stands awkwardly in the living room as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself now that I’ve taken his role. “Want me to open a bottle of red? You have your favourite wine from last Christmas still in the cabinet.”
“That sounds nice,” she says with a tremble in her voice. She climbs from my knee. “I need to use the bathroom.” She wobbles on shaky legs as she exits the living room.
I stand and follow Nate into the kitchen.
The bouquet is still on the worktop, untouched.
They were meant to show her I still care for her despite what happened with Nate, that she comes first, but now they’re a reminder of what we’ve lost, like flowers on a gravestone.
I know she hasn’t actually lost a baby because she was never pregnant to begin with, but it feels like grief, nonetheless.
The lost hope, lost idea of what could’ve been.
Nate fills the kettle, then opens the cupboard, searching for a vase as if he can’t stop or he’ll collapse. He’s on autopilot, probably used to the routine.
“Is it like this every month?” I know the answer, but I need to hear it from him.
“It wasn’t always like this. Just the last couple of years, maybe.” He doesn’t look at me, just keeps opening cupboard doors and closing them again.
“This is why you cancelled rugby last month?” I close the distance between us and stand in front of him. This isn’t about stepping back anymore. This is about stepping in.
His neck bobs as if he’s swallowing down his emotions, but he can’t hide the sadness in his eyes. “I couldn’t leave her like this.”
I curl my fingers around his neck and massage the tension there like he does to me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He breaks eye contact, turning his head to the side, his jaw clenched as his neck bobs again.
I place my other hand on his face, his unshaven jaw scratching my palm as I coax him back to me. “I’m here not just for the good times, but for the bad too. You don’t need to go through this alone.”
“I was ashamed.” His voice wavers. He bows his head. “It’s my fault she’s like this every month. I should’ve been able to give her a baby years ago.”
A soft voice says, “It’s not your fault.”
I peer over Nate’s shoulder and hold my arm out to Nora.
She lets me pull her close and hold her, and Nate, the two people I care about most in this world.
“It’s nobody’s fault.” I kiss Nora’s head, my knuckles rubbing up and down her spine, my other hand fisting the back of Nate’s shirt, afraid to let him go.
“If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I should’ve realised you were both going through this hell month after month.
I should’ve been here for you sooner.” I pull back a fraction to look them both in the eye. “But I’m here now.”
Nora leans into me. Nate’s arm comes around both of us.
We fit together like this, and my chest settles as a wave of calm washes over me, like the last puzzle piece finally slotting into place.
My shoulders relax and my mind stills as we hold each other together.
I’m no longer that jagged piece that never quite fit anywhere.
I’m needed. Wanted even. This is what love is.
I can give them the strength they need, and when Nora’s ovulating again, I’ll be here to give them a part of me. We can keep trying until it works, and in the meantime, I’ll stay and hold them through it.
We sit on the sofa, Nora in the corner with her feet up, a hot water bottle on her stomach, a glass of wine in hand, her head resting against my shoulder as I wipe a tissue over her black, tear-stained cheeks.
Nate comes in with a tray of grilled cheese toasties and crisps and hands me a beer. He sits in the space next to me instead of moving Nora’s legs from the other side. “Shall we put a movie on?”
“You pick,” she says. “I’ll probably fall asleep anyway.” She sips her wine and pulls the blanket farther up her body. “Thank you for my flowers.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, kissing the side of her face.
“I thought the flowers were for me,” Nate says before biting into his cheese toastie.
Nora smiles and relaxes against me as she lifts a triangular piece of toastie from the tray.
I pick the remote up from Nate’s lap and scroll through Netflix, settling on a romcom I know she’ll like. It’s not like I’ll be able to concentrate on anything anyway, and if it can give Nora a little escapism, then that’s all I want.
We all fall silent, eyes fixed on the TV while eating the food Nate made. Halfway through the movie, I sink down into the sofa and tug Nora gently with me. She curls in like it’s instinct, her head settling on my thigh with a soft sigh as if her body’s finally giving in.
“There,” I murmur, brushing her hair back from her face. “Got you.”
She nods faintly, eyes already heavy, clutching the hot water bottle to her stomach.
Nate reaches over me, tucking the blanket around Nora’s shoulders, then settles back into the sofa, our thighs touching.
I stroke my thumb slowly over Nora’s forehead, the way I’ve seen Nate do a hundred times, her breathing evening out bit by bit. Every so often her brow creases, like her body’s still fighting the disappointment, but each time I smooth it away.
“She always does that,” Nate says.
“Yeah?”
“When she’s trying not to cry in her sleep.”
My chest caves. I keep my touch gentle. “She doesn’t have to be strong all the time.”
He lets out a humourless huff. “Tell her that.”
“Neither do you.”
He doesn’t answer, just stares at the TV, jaw clenched. Minutes pass. The film drones on. Nora’s grip on the bottle loosens. Her mouth parts slightly as she finally slips under, fully asleep.
Nate clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure you’d come over.”
I study him with wide eyes. “You really are an idiot.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “That’s the third time you’ve called me that today.”
“You’d think it’d sink in by now.” I snort under my breath. “You should know, after thirty-odd years of friendship, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you.”
His breath stutters. He drops his gaze, then shifts in his seat, his hand resting on his thigh.
Our fingers brush. Electricity surges through my limbs.
Heat from his thigh seeps through my trousers.
I move my index finger, needing to feel the spark again, only this time he moves his hand closer on purpose.
I lace my fingers through his, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, heat radiating from our joined hands.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says.
I squeeze his hand. It’s slightly bigger than mine, but not by much. “Yeah. Me too.”
We stay like this for the remainder of the movie.
I can’t concentrate, and I don’t think he’s really watching it either.
With Nora asleep beside us, now isn’t the time to talk about what happened today, so I sit in the stillness with Nate, our hands clasped, fingers interlaced, and enjoy the closeness.