Chapter 28
. . .
“I’ll meet you at the table. I think it’s time I check in and see what I’m in for when I get home tomorrow.”
Heath hadn’t stopped looking forlorn since they’d returned from their stranding, and reminding him reality was waiting made his shoulders and his face droop.
It was a necessary evil. Evan hadn’t checked messages or emails for almost two weeks, and if a shitstorm was waiting for him, he’d prefer a night to prepare.
“Five minutes,” Heath warned. “Ten tops. Then I’m sending Izzy after you.”
Heath backed out of the room, gesturing that he’d be watching the clock, and Evan blew him a kiss, because it felt the best way to be both cute and an asshole. It was a delicate balance, but he’d been practicing.
The business area was a space smaller than a broom closet just outside of the main lobby. He laughed when he saw it, because there was no way even the most dedicated hardass was working there. He connected to the Wi-Fi and braced himself as his phone started up.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
Voicemail, full. Text messages, off the charts, and emails… the last one he’d received was an IT warning that he was over his limit and could get fucked until he deleted this shit.
He started with texts, because they were easy to skim. A number were from clients congratulating him on his marriage, followed by apologies and condolences after having heard the news. The next few weeks of meetings were going to be more hellish than normal.
Corey had reached out at first to laugh at him, naturally, and then to apologize, because his wife told him he was an asshole for making fun of him. Later, he laughed a little more, because he was an asshole, then he ended with a request for Evan to call as soon as he had reception.
That wasn’t good.
Leo’s messages were a bit of the same, except his wife had moved out months ago and was therefore not available to make the bastard pretend he had a conscience. His ribbing continued until he left a similar message to get in touch.
Fuck. What had happened?
A skimming of emails revealed little. His calendar showed bookings well into the future, and there weren’t any subject lines showing he’d gotten fired, sued, audited, or requested to report to a government agent operating out of an unmarked van. Which meant his messages must hold the key.
Thanking the tech gods for visual voicemail, he deleted marketing spam and appointment reminders. Deleted the message from his father without even looking at it. Same with the ones from his brothers. Corey and Leo hadn’t even called him, but Owen had.
Dude, when I told you it was time for a new flavor, I didn’t mean to toss the bun for the hotdog.
This shit is all over the Bleat, and you’re being dragged for stiffing everyone at the wedding to run off with some guy.
I know this is bullshit, because the source is your brother Rich, but you’re gonna have a hell of a mess to clean up when you get back.
Evan read the message three more times, and then he put his phone face down on the table and walked across the room to collapse on a settee.
There was no way. No one in his family could know what he’d been up to. No fucking way.
Even if Owen had let it slip that he’d gone on the trip. Even if Lucy had materialized to provide details of where he was, the island was still private. Other than the staff, they were the only inhabitants, and he’d gone nowhere in public since he’d arrived. How the fuck would Rich have found out?
Isabella strolled into the lobby. “You’re two minutes past ten, buster.”
She rushed over to sit beside him when she saw him hunched and muttering, wrapping an arm around his back. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
If his poker face had cracked that fast, he was in for a world of hurt twenty-four hours from now.
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, come tell it over dinner.” She stood and tried to tug him up by his arm, but he slipped free and buried his face into his hands.
They’d discussed telling the family the truth at dinner, because Heath’s guilt was eating him alive and dragging it out past the trip would make telling them even worse.
“Let’s just be honest and deal with the fallout. Maybe they’ll be understanding?”
Meanwhile, Evan was camp “milk it till it died.” He liked the Spencers and their assorted relatives.
Even Penelope, with her unabashed love of all things inappropriate—okay, especially Penelope—but he didn’t expect to be hobnobbing with them at any point in the future, so why did it matter?
Why not let their memories fade into obscurity as daily life slowly overwrote them?
Then there was Isabella, whose dark eyes seemed to bore straight into his soul. She was genuinely concerned about him. Two weeks, and she gave enough of a shit to offer comfort and support. He’d forgotten there were people like that out there. Now, he knew two.
God fucking dammit. Heath was right.
“Heath and I aren’t really together.”
He braced himself for a dagger in the kidneys. The laughter caught him totally off guard.
“Oh, hell yes! Liv owes me money!”
Blinking, he sat back against the wall and watched her wiggle through a celebration dance.
“‘Scuse me?”
Her smile held an evil glee he’d have found off-putting, if he didn’t already have enough to worry about.
“I told her day one that you two were faking it. I even had Gracie dig up the reservation details and show me the screw-up they’d ‘fixed.’ Liv wouldn’t hear it. Said you two were too obviously gone for one another and the chemistry was too strong.”
He shifted uncomfortably and waited for her to regain her composure for the second time. “And you disagree?”
“Not about the chemistry. That’s completely true, and I’m glad you two finally figured it out, because I was so cheering for you.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“Evan, honey. You two were so awkward during the first week, and neither of you answered questions correctly if you both weren’t in the room. If you’re going to fake a relationship, keep one another in the loop on what’s said. Dumbass.”
He wanted to laugh. If only he’d caved earlier so Heath could have witnessed the reveal. Evan imagined his reaction to Izzy’s celebration and managed a hoarse chuckle before panic choked him.
Isabella nudged him with her shoulder. “Is that why you’re in here being melancholy?”
He shook his head and took a deep, steadying breath. “No, I was checking messages and… let’s say my wedding fiasco is no longer the Bleat’s top news.”
“Your wedding fiasco?” Her eyes were wide with confusion, and he let her sit with it for a minute, because he needed to think. Except he couldn’t think, because he didn’t have enough details to work with, so instead he concentrated on resisting the urge to run screaming into the sea.
In the end, he went with show versus tell, handing her his phone with the post brought up.
He’d skimmed it, and that was enough to verify it was just as scathing as he’d expected it would be.
No surprise, really, since his youngest brother was a not-so-silent funding source.
There were very few cookie jars his siblings didn’t have their hands in, which made existing difficult, even while being outside their orbit.
“Oh my God, that was you?”
The beauty of being a publication by, for, and about members of the socially obtuse was knowing all about libel and slander and having the means to avoid it.
They never named names, but they didn’t have to.
Everyone above a certain tax bracket knew who Little Orphan Evvie was, but there was enough plausible deniability to skirt legal consequences.
“The very same,” he confirmed, bowing at the waist from his seat.
She bit her lip and covered her mouth, but he heard the snerk before she cleared her throat and composed herself. “So, if that isn’t the latest gossip, then…?”
“I think my father knows about Heath. Abstractly, anyway. I need more information, but I can’t bring myself to look.”
She sobered immediately. “Evan, I don’t know as much about your family as Liv and Nate do. How bad are we talking here?”
It was his turn to laugh, and the hysteria was authentic enough to send her sliding back a foot.
“My father has a list of faults that’s long as fuck, and you can bet your ass bigot is in the top five.”
“Aren’t you estranged? What do you care?”
“Loopholes,” Heath answered from the doorway, and Evan went back to staring at his shoes. This was not how he’d wanted the night to go.
They were supposed to celebrate their newfound friendships, then return to the villa and continue the celebration of his even newer sexual interests until the sun came up.
He’d wanted to fuck each other senseless until they both forgot tomorrow was happening, because he already knew there wasn’t a way to live to his list with Heath in the picture.
He sensed Heath knew that too. There was no mirth in his eyes, and the warmth Evan had grown fond of basking in was tepid at best. He was already miles away and rebuilding walls.
“What does he have over you?”
Evan dug his fingers into his hair and tugged until his eyes watered. Isabella looked ready to go to war for him. He’d see how long that lasted once she realized he was about to hurt her Heath.
“Everything.”