Chapter 32 New Beginnings
NEW BEGINNINGS
The woman who sat in my office was beautiful. Everything about her was long and lean. Her arms, her legs, her honey-blonde hair. She was dressed in designer clothing, and a designer bag sat at her feet. From the outside she looked perfect. But inside…
“I feel like I’m slowly dying. The people in my life don’t understand. They”—she motioned to herself—“think everything is fine. I think I’m going to leave my husband.” She said it as if she were ordering coffee.
“Do you think that will help? Leaving your husband?”
She shrugged. “Can’t hurt. It’ll hurt my bank account. But we have a prenup, so I won’t be penniless.”
The woman had started coming to my office a month ago after a friend voiced concerns about her drinking problem. “Is that the only reason you’re still with your husband?” That happened a lot. Women took time off to raise families, and when the kids were gone, they were left with nothing.
“At first. I thought I could learn to love him. I know that sounds stupid. I know what you think.”
No, it didn’t. I thought if I married Ian, it would stop the bleeding Tristan had caused. If I filled my life with things, I would be better. I would be okay. Instead, I ended up having a full-blown panic attack at my engagement party. “I’m not here to judge you.”
She snorted. “Why not? Everyone does. They think I should be satisfied with him. He’s great on paper. Hasn’t fucked his assistant, and she’s never forgotten my birthday.”
“Is that all you want out of your marriage?” The irony in my question wasn’t lost on me. This client could have been me ten years from now had I married Ian. “What about—”
“Love?” She cut me off. “Oh god, you’re one of those.” She checked her watch.
“One of what?”
“Someone that believes in love. Have you ever been in love? I mean, truly in love. A love that hurts and heals all at the same time?”
“We are not here to discuss me.” And yes, I had. I had a love that was the flame in which I would burn myself over and over again.
“Do you ever answer a question?” She checked the timer on my desk.
She did this every time, watched the last minute tick away.
Then she’d gather her things, stand, and wait as the last second clicked away.
I turned the timer away from her. “Next session we will discuss better ways of coping with your failing marriage than getting blackout drunk and having sex with a random man.”
She stood. “He wasn’t random. I know him.”
“Does your husband know?” The clock dinged.
“I guess we’ll have to save that for next time.” She winked, then turned and left.
“Evan, your mother’s on line one,” Heather, the receptionist, called over the intercom.
I cursed before answering the phone. Harold was getting old and having problems my mother couldn’t deal with. He had fallen and was having trouble remembering things. And for some reason, she thought I was going to fix these problems for her.
“Hello, Mother,” I said, making notes on the day’s clients.
“Are you still at work?” She sounded older. I could hear the TV blasting in the background.
“That’s where you called me.” I still had to dictate my notes for Heather to type.
Then it was off to join Callie at Craig’s opening of his second restaurant.
I didn’t see them much anymore. After I called off the engagement, I did a little soul-searching.
Including finding a better job. Callie worked at a women’s health center as a sex therapist. She and Craig had moved in together about a year ago. And I kept stumbling forward.
“Did you hear me?”
Shit, my mother was still rattling on about Harold’s latest medical issue. “Sorry, what?”
“If you are too busy, I can let you go.”
“Your guilt won’t work on me, Mother. I’m a professional. So tell me or don’t.” It had taken me years to get to this point with my mother. A point where I stopped expecting a “normal” mother daughter relationship with her.
“I said that Harold is going for heart surgery. Then he’ll have to stay in the hospital and maybe the nursing home after that. Anna says he might be able to come home if I get a home maid. Do you think I should do that or put him in the nursing home?”
“Home aid, Mom.”
“Yes, I know, that’s what I said. Home maid.”
I made another note. “Anna would know better than me. I’m not a doctor.
” My mother told everyone I was. I gave up explaining the difference years ago.
“You have to do what is best for you,” I said, checking the time.
Carter was meeting me here so we could drive together to The Moth and Flame, Craig’s newest restaurant.
It was odd dating a man whose first name was my last name.
Our friends said it was fate. He smiled and said, No, it was our mothers. Carter didn’t believe in fate.
“Oh, that Anderson boy, Noah, moved back and is teaching fifth grade.”
“That’s great,” I said, not letting the last name sink too deep. The Tristan wound hadn’t scabbed over yet.
“His brother has been around town too. He looks like a thug. He wears all black and has all those tattoos. You dodged a bullet with him. Poor Laura is beside herself.”
I closed my eyes, waiting for the tears to burn at the mention of Tristan.
Last I heard from Craig, Tristan hadn’t married anyone.
The woman who had answered the phone was Stacy.
Tristan changed his number soon after that.
It was best for both of us. At least that was what he told Craig.
“He’s an award-winning tattoo artist, Mother.
He is not a thug. He makes more money than half that town.
” I knew that much. Craig told me Tristan had been in Miami, London, and LA, tattooing the rich and beautiful people.
He was okay. As okay as Tristan could be.
I was okay too. As okay as I could be without Tristan.
A knock on my door brought me back to my office. Carter stood in his designer suit. He was handsome. Dark hair and dark eyes. No tattoos, but still really good in bed.
“Mom, Carter is here. I got to go. Call me when Harold gets out of surgery.”
“Are you finally going to bring him home for Christmas?” my mother quickly asked.
“No, he’s Jewish,” I said and hung up quickly. “Hello, you.”
“Hello, you.” He pushed off the door and walked into the room.
Carter was perfect. Not like Tristan’s broken perfect. Like, truly perfect. He worked as a hospital administrator for Hennepin County. He owned a condo with sweeping views of the Minneapolis skyline, and he didn’t want children. But most importantly, he promised he would never love me.
“Who’s Jewish?” he asked, kissing me.
“You are now,” I whispered into his mouth. I liked kissing him. Being with him. I liked doing lots of things with Carter. It was easy. We had been together for almost two years and had recently moved in together. A huge step for both of us. But it would be the last step.
“Okay.” He leaned against my desk. “Why?”
“It’s either that or we spend Christmas at the Parkfield nursing home eating cream-colored food.
” That was a step I never wanted us to take.
He wouldn’t understand small-town life. Carter grew up wealthy.
He went to private school and learned how to sail when he was twelve.
He was an only child with parents he rarely saw.
“I thought we were spending Christmas in Prague.”
“We are. I just haven’t told her that.” I had met Carter’s family once.
The same week I met Carter. I met him on my solo honeymoon in Europe.
I paid for it, so I took it. And for a man with zero belief in anything other than his own abilities, the story of how we met felt as if fate intervened.
I got locked out of my Airbnb. He was staying in the one next door.
He let me use his phone. Then we got drinks. Then we had sex.
“Evan.” Holly knocked on the door. “Oh, look, it’s Satan himself. Quick, Evan, say a couple Hail Marys, and he’ll turn into ash.”
“I’ll wait out in the car.” Carter kissed me again.
He stopped next to Holly, looking her up and down.
Carter had what Holly called his soul-stealing look.
He’d narrow his eyes, and the corner of his mouth would slightly curve up.
I’d rather have soul-stealing than heart breaking. “It’s good to see you too, Holly.”
“Piss off.” Holly walked into my office. “Why the fuck are you still with him?” Holly, my business partner, hated Carter. They had worked together once. She said Carter was more worried about money than patients. Callie said the same thing about Holly.
“Because he’s great in bed.” Not a lot of people saw the Carter I did. The one who made me blueberry pancakes shirtless on Saturday mornings. The one who looked really good naked.
“That’s because he’s sucking your soul out of your body.” She looked back to the door Carter had been standing in.
“More like I am,” I teased her.
“Gross.” Holly dropped a couple of files on my desk. “Do you have a couple minutes?”
“No. You heard Satan.” I met Holly at a conference about a year ago. She was starting a practice, and she wanted an all-female center. And I was looking for a fresh start.
“He’s not going anywhere. I had a referral for a female, married, two kids. Last week she locked herself in the closet and thought about ending it all.”
“Okay, and you don’t think you can talk her down?”
“Her partner is a male.”
I took the file. That was why Holly hired me.
I liked penises and had a little more experience with problems they brought.
She was not into penises and preferred to help gay clients.
She also liked to help the very wealthy, which was why Callie wouldn’t come to work for Holly.
That, and Callie believed Holly was Satan.
I never realized how small my world was. “I’ll look at it over the weekend.”
“Not tonight? She’s supposed to come in on Tuesday.”
“I have The Moth and Flame opening.” Holly had a very bad work-life balance and thought I should too.
“Oh shit, that’s tonight?”
“Yep,” I said, shoving my laptop into my bag. “You should come. People are starting to think I made you up.”
“No, they’re not. And I have a date tonight. So maybe we’ll stop by. Where is it?”
“Right next to Fifty-Two West.” Of course it was.
After Tristan left, I never went back to that bar, or any bar for that matter.
When I got back from Europe, Carter and I started dating.
He wasn’t the loud, hip bar type. The Moth and Flame was going to be new for him.
Callie warned me that Tristan had done the art for the restaurant, but he wouldn’t be here tonight.
I knew that Tristan was in LA at some tattoo convention because I followed him on IG. Well, not me as Evan Carter. Me as Eva Blue. I never commented or liked anything. I just wanted to make sure he was okay. It was one of the threads I couldn’t untangle from him. The worry.
“Have fun, and yes, look at her case.” She gave me a tight smile. “And break up with Satan.”
“Nope.” That would never happen. I had finally put all my pieces back together, and Carter was the glue that was holding me together. Yes, I knew that was messed up.
I knew because I was a professional.