Chapter Twenty-Eight
Evelyn could have spent the rest of her life in that chair, watching Jared Sparks.
She would have made her cast and crew run through rehearsal for the rest of their lives.
It was that damn spectacular. But the workday was ending, the cast and crew were wrapping up the final numbers—and frankly, all their voices and toes had been through enough for the day.
Her eyes wandered to stage left, where David was bandaging up blisters, manipulating joints and administering localized anesthetic.
Like always, he was being so kind and methodical with each new patient.
She watched his hands—those thick and delicious fingers—palpitate the ankle of one of her dancers.
If only she knew what those hands could do . . .
Evelyn shook the thought away. His hands were there for injuries on set. Nothing more.
It didn’t matter if she was doing a live-action musical or a New Year’s Eve countdown—the work was hard on the body.
Fatigue would set in. Laryngitis would take over from multiple practices.
Joints that had previously been injured or sprained would swell with tendinitis.
David’s job was to see them all through, get them to that final production.
The man wasn’t totally useless. And it was hard to believe that after tonight, there would only be two days left of rehearsal.
It was hard to believe that soon, David would be leaving her again.
Her heart ached a little at the thought.
Though, she wasn’t sure why. There were bigger, better things on the horizon for her .
. . and he had hurt her once already. A crime so offensive it could never be understood.
Or forgiven. But she had to admit, having David back on set had been somewhat helpful.
Her mind wandered toward the previous day, when David had asked her about the possibility of friendship.
At the time, she had avoided the conversation entirely.
She wasn’t ready to make space again for him in her heart, in any capacity.
But now, watching him work across the room, she found herself reflecting on the good of their time together.
The way he had helped her that morning with Jared, and how he’d brought her dinner when she was working late, helping her acetone shiny beads until late into the evening.
She thought back to that dinner date when they were married.
David had denied his own dreams for her career.
She considered the remote possibility that he wasn’t the giant misstep in male evolution that she’d made him out to be in her own mind.
She decided to accept his truce. There were only two days left of rehearsal, after all. What’s the worst that could happen?
As the rehearsal came to a finish and the cast and crew began wrapping up for the day, she made her way over to David.
He was fully immersed in packing up his bag of medical supplies, stuffing bandages and ankle wraps into pockets, not paying attention.
She tapped his shoulder. His eyes went wide when he glanced up at her.
She could tell he was surprised she’d approached him.
She did her best to seem friendly, greeting him with a smile.
“We lose anyone?” she asked.
A beat passed between them. “Not today.” He smiled back, slinging his bag over one shoulder. It was amazing how David could just do that. Pull off that confident, casual look with ease. Her eyes wandered down to his rolled-up sleeves. He had ridiculously well-developed forearms . . .
He was also waiting for her to say something.
She pointed back toward the stage. “So, what do you think?”
“The truth?” he asked.
“Always.”
“Honestly,” he said. “I think it’s the best work you’ve ever done.”
Her heart lurched into her throat. “Really?”
“Jared Sparks was absolutely the right call.”
She touched her heart. “Thank you.”
A pause passed between them. This was it. The big moment.
“Listen,” Evelyn said. “I really appreciate your help today with managing Jared. And honestly, the whole week. With the migraines, with the flu tests, with the shiny beads and bringing me dinner.”
“It was no big deal,” he said, waving away her gratitude.
“Yeah, but,” she stammered, teetering on her feet, on the words, “I just wanted to say thank you. It’s been nice having you around. You’ve been very helpful.”
He nodded. “Well, I appreciate that, Evelyn.”
“And I also know,” she continued, meeting his eyes, “I know I haven’t been entirely kind to you this week.
But the other day, you asked if we could be friends.
And I think . . . I think I’d like to try to be friendly with you.
I’d like to try, moving forward. Because I’m tired of hating you, David.
I’m tired of holding on to all this resentment.
So maybe, in the spirit of friendship . .
. and, just to be clear, this is by no means a romantic gesture, but maybe .
. . I can take you out to dinner tonight? ”
His gaze narrowed on her. “Really?”
“I mean—” she couched it as a joke, but at the same time, she desperately wanted to know “—if you don’t have a big date lined up already?”
It took him a moment, but he laughed. “No date,” he confirmed.
She was glad to hear it. She rubbed the back of her neck.
“So, I’ll meet you out front in twenty minutes?” she asked.
He smiled, his body swaying a bit, his gaze lingering over her form. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Good,” she said, and truly meant it. “Me, too.”
Evelyn had a bounce in her step as she returned to her office, where she took a few minutes to freshen up, grabbing her baggie of toiletries from her desk and heading to the bathroom.
She brushed her teeth. Fixed her hair. Sprayed on some extra deodorant.
Then, for no reason in particular, she threw on some lipstick.
And she told herself it was the music, all those catchy tunes echoing in her head, and that near perfect rehearsal with Jared Sparks—and not going out to dinner with her ex-husband—that left her cheeks hurting from beaming.
David stood in the restroom of CBS7-T studios and did a quick once-over of how he looked.
Smoothing down any frizz in his hair, he gathered his hands over his mouth and attempted to check his breath—before realizing he was getting ahead of himself.
Was nervous, in fact, for no good reason.
He was just going out to dinner with his ex-wife.
Sure, he and Evelyn had kissed the other night.
But since then, they had erected clear boundaries.
Though, he if he kept thinking about making out with Evelyn—how good she felt, the curve of her breast, the heat between her legs as she gripped his waist and pulled him toward her—he wouldn’t be able to walk.
“You’re fine,” he said, giving himself a pep talk in the mirror. “It’s just dinner. No big deal.”
A toilet flushed behind him. A man appeared, washing his hands. “You okay, man?”
“It’s just—” He didn’t know why he was telling a stranger about his life. “I’m going on a date with my ex-wife.”
The man froze mid-rinse. “Well, good luck with that.”
Outside the studios, Evelyn was already waiting for him. Her brown hair was partially hidden by a small beret, and he recognized the leather gloves she was wearing as the ones he had bought her several years earlier for Hanukkah.
“Hey,” David said. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”
“Not at all,” she said, before adding, “You up for Rothstein’s?”
“Rothstein’s sounds perfect.”
Located in Midtown, Rothstein’s Deli felt like the perfect place to celebrate another night of Hanukkah.
Established by a Jewish family in the early twentieth century, it was famous for its oversized and overstuffed sandwiches on rye, quickly becoming a favorite among Jews and non-Jews alike.
David entered with Evelyn and slid into a booth, watching as waiters zipped by with pastrami sandwiches, Reubens, and heaping bowls of matzah ball soup.
“So, what are you thinking about getting?” Evelyn asked, staring at the menu.
“Everything,” David jested.
It was the truth. He loved the quiet of a rural life, the sense of peace he always felt as the sun set over empty acres.
But for all the benefits of a life lived far away from city life, there were things he missed.
Food, for one. He couldn’t get good kosher deli meat, the kind that was cured in-house with salt and spices, then hand carved and sliced against the grain . . . unless he made it himself.
Latkes, like rugalach and babka, were another Jewish delicacy he often missed.
And while one of his favorite bakeries, Best Babka in Brooklyn, had invested in shipping orders, it still wasn’t the same as eating babka freshly baked, straight out of the oven, oozing with hot chocolate or raspberry filling. The thought made him hungry.
“Well, good thing I’m paying, then,” Evelyn jested. “I’m definitely getting the pastrami sandwich.”
He knew that. “I think I’m getting the same.”
“Of course.” She smiled. “And half-sour pickles?”
“My blood pressure says no, but my heart says yes.”
She laughed, her shoulders relaxing. And he relaxed, too. It was fine, being with Evelyn. Granted, he still felt her draw, that brewing undercurrent of sexual tension, but he considered it a wise choice indeed that they were both eating pickles and meat.
That would, hopefully, keep them from kissing.
He shook the thought away, and the conversation between them continued, and remained friendly. He almost forgot that Evelyn was his ex-wife, and he began to wonder what life would look like if they could begin communicating again.
He wasn’t sure why he wanted that, considering all that had gone wrong between them, the way she never changed.
But sitting across from her once again, their knees bumping on accident beneath the table, the conversation flowing smoothly, everything felt remarkably normal.
Like no time had passed between them at all.