Evie
evie
D aphne collapses with a sigh onto the pink velvet chaise in the corner of Roselyn’s nursery. “I swear, that child only wants her father to hold her. She gives a whole new meaning to the term daddy’s girl .”
The corner of my lip twitches as I finish outlining a rose on the wall. The dusty chalk coats my fingers, a tiny bit falling on the warm maple floor as I return it to its case. I wipe my hands on the wet paper towel I brought into the room and clean up the mess on the floor before spinning around in my cross-legged position to face her.
“Daphne, can I ask you a personal question?” I keep my eyes focused on the floor between us, absentmindedly running my fingers over the cream shag rug I’d pushed back from the wall when I got started earlier.
“Mmhmm,” she hums, eyes closed as she clutches a stuffed teddy bear. She looks seconds away from falling asleep, and I mull over whether to ask the question that’s been on my mind since I saw Eric holding Roselyn. As I grapple inwardly with the decision, she peeks an eye open and smiles as she teases, “What’s up, ? Do you wanna ask questions about Eric?”
I want to fall forward and sink my face into the soft, plush rug to hide my embarrassment. “Am I that easy to read?”
“Hey, I love this for you guys. As soon as Kendall mentioned you and Steven split, we both instantly thought you and Eric would be a good match. If you hadn’t gone on your trip abroad, we would have set those wheels in motion a lot sooner.” She winks and sits up, extending her arms and lacing her fingers together to stretch them behind her back.
Not gonna lie, it feels a little weird knowing that Eric’s ex-wife had a hand in trying to set us up.
“Do you mind if I ask why you two didn’t work out?” I avoid her gaze as I sheepishly look around the room. I can feel the flush of awkwardness creeping up my neck into my face, but Daphne tilts her head to catch my gaze, offering me a warm, understanding smile.
“We were together for a long time, but most of it was spent with me taking care of my mom when she was sick, and then grieving her death when we lost her,” she explains. Her voice is melancholy, and her blue eyes go a little glassy as if she’s thinking back to those harder times. “Eric was so good to me—so understanding—but I think we realized that maybe we pushed ourselves together because my mom really liked him. We honestly didn’t have much in common. He worked a lot, and when he wasn’t working, he wanted to be outdoors. I love to travel, but I would prefer to do it in style, if you know what I mean.” She shrugs before laying back on the chaise. “That makes me sound vain, but there’s no use in pretending to like a lifestyle that I just don’t.”
“It doesn’t make you sound vain. If anything, at least you knew what you wanted and were honest enough to voice it.”
Unlike my jerk of an ex-husband.
Shaking my head to clear all thoughts of Steven from it because the bastard doesn’t deserve any more of my time, I think about last weekend and how Eric left me tied to my kitchen table.
Yes, left me .
Tied. To. The. Table.
I’d had to contort my body in ways I didn’t know it could bend and twist for me to get free from my bindings.
My eyes flick up to Daphne to see her watching me with a vulpine grin, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking of. “He’s a really good guy,” she says. “He’s kind and generous, and you’ll never be left feeling unsatisfied. His tastes are a little particular—but I’m going to guess, judging by the look on your face right now, you’ve already found that out.”
Her lips will split at the corners if her smile gets any wider, eyes sparkling with mischief as she cocks her head to the side. “Sorry, is it weird of me to speak of things like that?”
“Maybe a little…” I tell her honestly with a shrug. I don’t want to think of her and Eric together that way. Even though she’s remarried with a baby, I still can’t help the prick of jealousy that nudges my chest. “Can I ask why you guys never had any kids?”
The question is sour as it leaves my mouth, like the bitter bile you dry heave up when there’s nothing left in your stomach to purge during a bout of food poisoning or the flu.
Surprise takes over her pretty features, her mouth curving downward just a little as her brows notch together. “We tried…early on in our marriage.” She speaks slowly, as if she’s choosing her words carefully. Her gaze drops to her lap, where she starts to pick at her thumbnail—a trait we obviously share when we’re uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to–”
“No, it’s okay,” she cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “We wanted kids, but like I said earlier, my mom got sick, and things were stressful and hectic for a long time. Eventually, we just decided it wasn’t meant to be for us and stopped trying.” She looks back at me, mouth twitching as she asks, “Do you want kids?”
A swell of adrenaline floods my body with a harsh burn. It coats my esophagus, instantly clogging my sinuses and bringing an onslaught of hot tears that I begin to blink back. I open my mouth to respond, the words getting caught in my throat and resulting in a half-choked rasp instead.
Daphne frowns with concern, but says nothing as I attempt to get a grip on my feelings. Should I tell her the truth? Say that, yes, I want kids but can’t have them. Do I tell her the whole story? Or just keep it to myself since I haven’t even had that talk with Eric yet.
These days, as far as dating goes when you’re our age, it seems like those are the types of things you talk about instantly—wanting kids or not. What if I tell Daphne, and then she tells Eric?
“You know, whatever you say is between us, . I promise I won’t say anything to Eric,” Daphne cuts through my inner turmoil.
I release a breathy laugh, turning my eyes to the ceiling as I wipe under them at the tears that continue to gather. “Are you like a freaking psychic or something?”
She laughs and shrugs her shoulders. “When you’ve been in a group of friends like ours for a while, you begin to pick up on things without needing to be told.”
The space between us fills with a heavy silence. It stretches for seconds, then maybe minutes, before I finally speak. “I can’t have kids. Medically, I’m unable to.”
I expect her face to twist in horror, for her hands to fly to her mouth, and a gasp to fall from her lips before she exclaims, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”
But Daphne does none of those things. Instead, she holds my gaze and nods as she clasps her hands together and leans forward to rest her weight on her knees. “And how does that make you feel?” she asks like she’s my personal therapist and I’ve just divulged a deep, dark secret.
I blink. “No…no one’s ever asked me that…before.”
A slight nod of her head has me continuing with the realization that all I’ve ever wanted was for someone to acknowledge that my feelings are valid. “It makes me feel… I don’t know, like there’s something wrong with me. Even though I know there’s not—I know these things happen—but I still can’t help but feel angry and resentful that I was created this way.”
It feels good to let it out. Once upon a time, I wanted to go to therapy but couldn’t afford it. And I’ve never had a group of friends to talk to about it since all the wives of Steven’s friends just kept telling me to keep trying, like eventually, after multiple attempts and rounds of IVF, it would just magically happen, despite the doctors saying there was too small a chance.
I tell Daphne as much, and her eyes soften as she abandons the teddy bear on the chaise and kneels on the ground before me, pulling me into her arms without so much as a word.
Embracing her back, I let the tears fall. “I wanted to be a mom, really wanted it.” My voice cracks, the words splitting between the hoarse rasps of my cries. “But Steven wouldn’t even consider adoption. And the treatments made me so sick.” I aggressively sniff, turning my head on her shoulder so I don’t get snot in her hair. “A part of me was relieved when I found out about his secretary. Relieved. Isn’t that stupid?”
“No, it’s not stupid at all,” Daphne soothes, rocking us back and forth as she strokes my hair like a child. “I’m so sorry all of that happened to you, .”
She’s gonna tell Eric to run for the hills.
The thought has me pulling away, hastily wiping at my nose and eyes. She lets me go, sitting back on her shins as she appraises me.
“Is that why you pulled away from him after you saw him with Rose?” she asks.
My eyebrows flatten. “Geez, you two really are still close, aren’t you?”
A melodic laugh fills the air. “I know. I know. It’s weird. Most people don’t understand it, but I can’t imagine my life without him in it. And he really likes you, . Really, really likes you. Talk to him about your concerns if that’s what’s holding you back.” She nudges my knee. “Eric would be all for adoption.”
“It’s a little too early to have that talk, don’t you think?” I mutter, turning to gather my art supplies.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my sweater, and I pull it out while still sniffling to see that it’s a text from Eric.
“I don’t think it’s too early at all,” Daphne muses impishly as I read over the text.
Counting down until I have you all to myself for the weekend. Twenty-eight hours, fifty-seven minutes, and approximately five seconds by the time this text goes through, if you were wondering.
A pleasant calmness washes over me, filling me with a renewed sense of hope.
And, Evelyn?
“As a matter of fact, I’d venture to say that if you two just sit down and have a long conversation in person, he’ll be putting a ring on it by the end of the year,” Daphne states nonchalantly as she stands and turns to leave the room.
My head snaps up, catching her eye as she pauses with a hand on the doorframe and turns to throw me a wink over her shoulder.
I drop my startled gaze back to my phone as another text lights up the screen.
When I return, those dating apps better be gone from your phone.