Chapter One #3
The waiter appeared with menus. Richard waved him off. “We’ll just do drinks for now. I’ll have the watermelon vodka whammy, and she’ll have …”
“Pinot Noir,” Eva said.
They exchanged pleasantries for a moment, though something felt tense. Was Richard nervous?
After a few beats of silence, Richard leaned forward, his hair unmoving from the gel.
He folded his hands on the table with the careful precision of someone who’d practiced this moment.
Eva held her breath in anticipation. “I didn’t want to do this at your apartment.
Or in public, really. But you’re busy this week, and we’re supposed to be flying out soon, and … well, I didn’t want to drag it out.”
“Drag it out, what are you talking about?” Eva frowned with confusion.
The waiter returned with their drinks, setting a deep red wine in front of Richard and the hot pink watermelon cocktail before Eva.
“Actually, I had the watermelon vodka whammy,” Richard said, barely glancing at the server.
“The wine is mine, please,” Eva added, awkwardly raising her hand.
They switched glasses, Eva took a too-large sip, feeling the warmth spread through her chest.
“This just isn’t working, Eva.”
It was like someone pulled the tablecloth out from under their meal—only, there was no food, and Eva was left sitting in front of a very empty place setting with a man who looked more like a tax form than a person.
“I’m sorry?” she said.
“You’re … great, Eva. You’re really sweet. And you’ve been—” He stopped. “Look, I just think we want different things.”
Eva felt her cheeks heat as her ears rang. It was impossible to tell if her hands were shaking or if the restaurant itself had started to vibrate.
“You were just on Tiffany’s website,” she said, almost dazed as the gravity of the situation hit her.
“What? Eva, I was browsing cufflinks,” he shook his head.
He gave her a wimpy half-smile. “You’re always … hoping. Overthinking and reading into things.”
“Well, we’ve been dating for two years Richard. So yes, I guess I did think this was leading somewhere, how callous of me!” Eva banged her wine glass on the table, sloshing a drop over the edge.
“Please, be quiet. People are going to start staring. Eva, I need a woman with a sense of ambition, purpose. I know you’re really into colour-coding and creating our schedules but I need more than that,” Richard threw her the next insult.
As her ears continued to buzz, Eva found herself transfixed on Richard’s shirt.
The pale blue button-down from that boutique in Green Hills was clinging to his chest like it had separation anxiety.
Had it shrunk in the wash? Or had he deliberately chosen to wear what appeared to be a size too small?
Who wore a shirt this tight to break up with someone?
More importantly, who wore a shirt like that period?
“You were literally sending me pictures of our villa in Cancún yesterday!” She managed to keep her voice steady, despite the earthquake happening inside her chest.
“I still think you should go,” he said, like he was offering her the last slice of pie. “You could use some time away. It’ll be good for you.”
The absolute nerve of this man, telling her what he thought she needed right now!
Eva felt the familiar sting behind her eyes, the treacherous pre-cry burning that had earned her the office nickname ‘waterworks’.
She’d overheard the junior A&R guys once: “Don’t tell Eva. She’ll cry.” Followed by laughter.
Not today. She swallowed hard.
The waiter returned to check on whether the two would be ordering food. Richard handed him a credit card and eagerly asked for the bill.
Eva wanted to fling her wine in his face, to create the kind of scene that would be recounted by the waitstaff for years to come. To embarrass him to the level she was currently reaching.
Instead, she went quiet. She nodded along as Richard monologued about ‘personal growth journeys’ and ‘fundamental incompatibilities’.
She watched as he signed the credit card slip with a steady hand.
Mortified by the evening’s turn of events, that last bit of pride within her declined his offer to drive her home.
Outside the restaurant, the December air hit her flushed face.
Nashville sparkled around her, all holiday lights and Christmas cheer.
Lampposts were wrapped in garlands, shop windows displayed festive scenes, and somewhere a street musician was playing Silent Night on a saxophone.
But Eva didn’t see any of it. The twinkling lights blurred through unshed tears, the festive storefronts might as well have been empty, and the haunting saxophone notes only underscored the hollow feeling in her chest. It was as if someone had adjusted the contrast on the world.
Everything that had seemed bright and promising just hours before now looked flat and meaningless.
She stood on the sidewalk, hugging her coat to her chest despite the relatively mild Tennessee winter, and realised she had nowhere to go.
Her apartment felt like the last place she wanted to be—filled with a half-packed suitcase and resort wear that now seemed to mock her with its cheerful tropical prints.
“Christmas is supposed to be magical!” She yelled into the night sky.
“No it ain’t!” yelled a man on the ground in grubby sweats, holding an empty Coors bottle. “You gotta make your own magic. No one gonna do it fer ya. Follow the signs, Eva.”
Did he just say my name? Eva wondered. Surely not. He was slurring his words.
Stomping off, Eva turned the corner so the man couldn’t give her any more helpful tips.
Eva’s phone buzzed in her purse.
Mom: How is dinner, sweetheart? Has he popped the question yet? I’m dying to know!
Eva stared at the text, her thumb hovering over the screen.
Her mother had been dropping not-so-subtle hints about marriage since Eva turned twenty-four.
Five years later, it had evolved into a full-blown campaign.
Every Thanksgiving she was met with, “Eva you need to get it together and give me grandkids!’ ‘Your sisters are making me a grandmother, when will it be your turn?” Sandy would say, as if motherhood were a relay race and Eva had dropped the baton.
Richard surprised me! Talk tomorrow xoxo
She tucked her phone back before she could think about the white lie she’d just told.
It had been a surprise all right, just not the kind she’d wanted.
Just another day of pretending everything was fine.
She’d had plenty of practice. It was easier than dealing with her mother’s disappointment or, worse, her immediate plan to fix everything.
Eva glanced at the street signs, calculating the distance to her apartment.
Four miles. Technically walkable, but this was Nashville—a city designed for cars, not pedestrians.
No sidewalks for half the journey, intersections built like death traps for anyone not surrounded by two tonnes of metal.
And the never-ending construction. Another uniquely American problem: you can’t even storm away dramatically after a breakup without calling an Uber.
Instead of heading home, Eva’s feet led her towards the gym—open twenty-four hours, glowing sterile white under the cold December sky.
The place was nearly empty at this hour, just a few dedicated fitness enthusiasts on treadmills and one guy grunting at his reflection as he curled what looked like small cars.
The attendant—a chipper blonde whose ponytail seemed to defy gravity—gave Eva’s outfit a once-over. “A little over dressed for a workout, aren’t we?” She laughed, then motioned her in. Eva was a regular now.
Reaching her locker, Eva prayed that there was something left in here from her last session.
Result! Towards the back of the shelf she found a crumpled pair of black leggings and T-shirt that was so creased it could make an iron cry.
No sneakers though, damn. Slipping out of her dress and into the leggings, Eva glanced down at her strapless bra and across to the heels she’d now have to put back on.
“Just perfect,” she sighed. Looking from her made up face, bedraggled outfit and down to her toes she took a deep breath, screw it.
Shoulders back, she held her head high as her fancy strappy heels clicked against the tile floor on the walk up to the bike row.
Today Eva was sporting a particular brand of determination that only arrives when your carefully constructed future has just imploded.
She climbed onto a stationary bike in the corner, the one facing a blank wall, and started pedalling. The clink of the half-done buckles against the pedals echoed in the cavernous room. She looked ridiculous. She didn’t care.
Her phone buzzed in her hand: Courtney.
Eva answered, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear while she pedalled miserably.
“What the hell are you doing over there, psychopath?” Courtney said by way of greeting.
“I’m at the gym.”
“The GYM? On your big night? Where’s Richard?” There was the sound of kitchen activity in the background—Courtney prepping for tomorrow’s catering gig, always working.
“Richard …” Eva swallowed hard. “Richard just broke up with me.”
“HE WHAT?” The background noise stopped abruptly. “That absolute rodent of a man. Where are you really?”
“I told you. I’m at the gym. On a bike. In heels, actually.”
A pause. “Oh my God, you’re serious. You’re pedalling away your feelings in formalwear?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Eva glanced down at her strappy sandals, clacking against the metal pedals with each rotation. “My apartment is filled with … him. I couldn’t go home yet.”
“What about Cancún? The tickets? The resort?”
Eva hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “I’ll cancel it, I guess.”
“Hell no,” Courtney said with such conviction that Eva sat up straighter on the bike. “Don’t you dare cancel that trip.”
“I can’t exactly go to a couples resort alone.”
“Not Cancún. Somewhere else. Move the tickets.”
“To where?”
“I don’t know. Paris? Bali? Literally anywhere that isn’t Nashville or a place you planned to go with that walking tax deduction.”
Eva pedalled slower, considering it. “I don’t know …”
“Eva,” Courtney’s voice softened. “When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to? Not because your mom approved, or because it fitted into Richard’s five-year plan?”
The question hung in the air like smoke.
Eva couldn’t remember. Every decision—college major, apartment, job, even her highlights (caramel, not too blonde) —had been guided by her mother’s gentle but insistent hand or by what she thought a girlfriend of Richard’s calibre should be.
The last time she’d made a choice just for herself …
“I’d have to change the flights,” Eva said finally.
“So change them. Tonight.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t think. That’s all you do, Eva. You overthink until you talk yourself out of what you actually want. For once in your life, just do something impulsive.”
Eva heard the telltale sound of a knife chopping in the background—Courtney multitasking even during an emergency call. Eva envied that about her friend—the absolute certainty she had about her path, because it was her passion. When had Eva lost that?
Had she ever really had it? Or had she always been this person? Safer, smaller, less than she could be, because that’s what good girls do.
“Listen,” Courtney continued, “I would have come and got you, but I’ve really got to finish this prep for tomorrow, I’m sorry Eves.
But promise me you’re gonna get off that stupid bike and go home.
You’ll tell me when you’re back? At least consider changing the flights. Go somewhere that’s just for you.”
“I promise.”
“Call me when you decide. And, Eva?”
“Yeah?”
“You deserve better than him. And better than the life you think you’re supposed to want.” Her friend sighed before hanging up.
Maybe it was time to stop pedalling in one place. Maybe it was time to move forward.