14. Evie
T ristan’s eyes flash when I come into the kitchen, dressed to go out. “You look nice,” he says, a subtle tilt to his lips. The way he’s looking at me makes my heart skip a beat.
I always dress up for my birthday. Tonight, I wanted something sexy and feminine. I’m wearing a flouncy little skirt with a soft floral pattern and a cream, off-the-shoulder top with long sleeves.
“Where are you guys headed, again?” he asks, his gaze snagging on the hem of my very short skirt like he can’t help himself.
“We’re going bar hopping,” I say, riffling through my purse. “Tell Timmy to keep up.”
“Don’t worry about Timmy,” he says, trading a cryptic look with Malachi.
I narrow my eyes. “What’s that mean? Is Timmy free from babysitting duty tonight or something?” The doorbell rings before I get a response. “Hold on,” I call, going to answer it. I’m met with the biggest, brightest bunch of balloons I’ve ever seen.
“Happy birthday!” Opal cries, barely able to get inside.
Snickering, I tug the balloons through the door and give her a one-armed hug. “Thanks, Ope. Come in while I get my shoes on.”
“Ooh, girl,” she says, nodding as she checks me out. “You look fine as hell!”
“Hey, Opal,” Tristan says, watching the spectacle from the doorway to the kitchen.
“Oh, hey,” she says. “Eddie says you’re practically working at Phoenix Rising these days, giving out all that free instruction.”
He chuckles, nodding as our eyes meet. “Comes with the territory.”
Slipping into a pair of ballet flats, I grab my purse. “Ready?” I ask Opal. I’m antsy to get going, partly because I’m eager to commence celebrating, but also because there’s been a slightly awkward vibe between Tristan and me all day. This is exactly why I wasn’t going to mention my birthday to him. He’s already done enough to help me out, in ways most people never would, and the last thing I want is for him to feel obligated to do something for my birthday like we’re a real couple.
Opal nods. “Uber’s waiting outside.”
“You’re taking an Uber?” Tristan asks, frowning. “I would’ve taken you.”
“No, no.” I rush to the door, dragging Opal along behind me. “See you later! Don’t wait up.”
He says something as I shut the door, but I keep moving, anxious to get going.
Opal gives me a funny look as we buckle up in the back seat. “Why’re you acting so jumpy? Did you y’all fight or something?”
“No, of course not.” I force a small laugh. “I just ...”
“Just what?” Opal insists, poking my thigh once we’ve started moving.
I shake my head again, not in the mood to rehash the increasingly complicated dynamic between Tristan and me.
“Girl, if you don’t start talking …”
I shrug. “I think he might’ve felt obligated to do something for my birthday. But we're not actually together, you know? It would have felt forced.”
“Or maybe it’s not that deep, and he wanted to do something because you’ve been friends a long time,” she says.
"Maybe," I say doubtfully.
Opal gives me a knowing look but doesn’t push it further. “Well, don’t dwell on all that because we've got dinner reservations at Sushi Sakura and then we're hitting up alllll our favorite bars. Tonight’s about you, babe. ”
My mood lifts at the thought. Nothing like a night out with my best friend to get my head straight. “You're the best.” I lean against her, linking our arms. No matter what else is going on in my life, nights like this always make everything feel right again.
I’m feeling good. A little drunk, but good.
After dinner, Opal and I stopped by Ivy & Rose for their famous Ramos Gin Fizz. The rooftop bar was hopping, nothing like it was the day Tristan and I got married. I try not to think about that too much, but it’s tricky when I’m standing in the spot where we exchanged vows. Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m married to him. I can’t believe I’m married at all. Nothing about my life screams wedded bliss—I live with four guys, and my cats are the only ones warming my bed.
After leaving Ivy & Rose, we hit up a few other bars, toasting each other over fancy drinks, gossiping and dancing and catching up with friends. Despite its less than glowing start, it’s turned out to be a damn good birthday. Every time I remember that Aunt Myrtle left me her estate, my heart feels like it might burst. It couldn’t have come at a better time, too. Life has been one, big unpredictable mess lately, but I can’t deny that there have been a few sweet spots.
We save Honey Hive, my favorite, for last. Lane slides us a couple of lemon drop shots on the house when Opal tells him it’s my birthday, and then, despite my mortification, sings a rousing round of happy birthday that has everyone in earshot joining in.
Armed with fresh drinks, we settle down at a high-top table near the jukebox and take the requisite selfie. I’m digging through my wristlet, looking for quarters to feed the old-fashioned jukebox, when Opal cries, “Ha!”
I hum absently, vaguely bummed I have no quarters. Maybe Lane can give me change for a dollar. “You have any quarters, Ope?”
But she’s zeroed in on something behind me. “How’d I know that boy was gonna show up?”
I shoot a look over my shoulder, my heart glitching when I spot Tristan threading through the crowd, Finn and Malachi trailing closely behind. He’s wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt with Chelsea boots, and he looks so good that it gives me a stomachache. I’m married to that man, I think, slightly hysterically . And I can’t even have him.
Tristan’s eyes lock on mine, and he smiles just a little, raising his chin in acknowledgement. A sweet, warm flutter ripples through my body, and I whirl back to Opal, grabbing her hand across the table. “What’s he doing here?”
She smiles around her straw, giving me a playful eye roll. “You really thought he was just going to let you come out by yourself tonight? C’mon now, Evelyn.”
I blink, considering. That’s exactly what I’d thought. “Yeah, ‘cause he said?—”
“Shh.” She beams up at the boys crowding our high-top. “Look who’s here! What a coincidence!”
“Couldn’t let you two have all the fun, now could we?” Tristan’s irreverent wink pops me right between the ribs. “How’s it goin’, birthday girl?”
God, he’s cute . I can usually tell how much he’s been drinking by his speech patterns, and tonight he’s all Boston.
I grin, a little giddy. “It’s going great.”
He taps a finger against my glass. “Whatcha got?”
“A French ‘75,” I say, offering it to him.
He keeps his eyes on mine as he takes a sip, his fingers overlapping mine on the glass. “Not bad.”
Opal’s chatting it up with Finn and Malachi, so I twist in my seat to better face Tristan. My chair is pretty high up, so we’re almost level. “How’d you find us?”
“You told me that this was your favorite bar, so I figured you’d show up eventually.” He cracks a sly grin, his thighs brushing my knees. “But …”
My heart flip-flops at how close he is. “But what?”
“Evie, we’ve been following you two all night.”
“No way! How come we never saw you?”
“Because we didn’t want you to,” he says, stepping back to lean against the wall.
I slip right off my chair, following him like I’m on a leash. “Why not?”
“Didn’ t want to interfere with your big plans,” he says. “It didn’t seem like you wanted me around tonight.”
“So, you just stalked us instead?” I retort, poking his chest . “That’s what you meant when you told me not to worry about Timmy. You were all planning on being here.” I look around for my towheaded bodyguard. “Where is Timmy, anyway? You didn’t leave him at home, did you?”
“He’s here.” Tristan closes his hand over my finger, putting it down as he looks across the crowded room. “He’s getting our drinks.”
I swallow, my heart clanging against my ribs at the feel of his big, warm hand covering mine. It’s like we’re in another, very flirty, dimension down here, where touching comes easier. He brings his gaze back to mine suddenly, smiling when he catches me staring up at him.
“It’s not that I didn’t want you around,” I say in a small voice. “I did.”
“Could’ve fooled me. But even if you didn’t,” he says, letting go of my hand to sweep my hair over my shoulder. “I wasn’t letting you run around town by yourself.”
“You weren’t letting me? How very macho man of you.” I scoff, pretending the way he’s stroking my hair isn’t tangling my emotions like a strand of old Christmas lights. “I’ve run around town by myself for years.”
“That was before you were my wife,” he says, letting go of me altogether as Timmy pops up with an armful of drinks.
Goodness, the way those words wrap around me, holding me tight the way I wish he would. This is why I didn’t want him to know about my birthday. I knew I’d end up just like this, tipsy and wishing .
We play darts and then pool, Opal and I demolishing Finn and Malachi as Tristan and Timmy talk shit from the sidelines. Then Finn and I take on Tristan and Opal, who we beat. Tristan narrows his eyes at me as the others rack the balls for one more game. “You’re good at this,” he accuses.
I lift my hair in an effort to cool off. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”
Tristan’s eyes follow the movement, lingering on the exposed skin of my neck, and I feel a pleasurable shiver run down my spine. “Guess so,” he says quietly, his lips curling into that familiar smirk. Suddenly our corner of the crowded bar is too warm, the atmosphere too charged, and my pulse flutters like a trapped bird.
We’ve been like this all night, blurring the line between friendly banter and flirtation. I’m lucid enough to know that I shouldn’t project, but every time I look at him, he’s looking back at me. He seems almost curious tonight, like maybe he wants me, too. I’m sure he sees the very same thing in my eyes. It’s exhilarating, but I keep reminding myself that it’s likely an illusion. Tristan’s a bonafide flirt. This little game of push-and-pull we’ve been playing all night will end the moment we leave the bar.
The pool game restarts with the sharp clack of one ball hitting another. Opal winks at me from across the felt table, glancing at Tristan like she knows something’s up. I’m not playing this round, so I lean against the wall with Finn, snickering at the trash-talking and snapping pictures with my phone.
But that undercurrent of tension remains, flaring up whenever Tristan’s eyes meet mine. It’s like a guilty pleasure, tinged with jitters.
I don’t hate it.
We stay until last call, pouring out onto the street with everyone else around three. I look around the busy sidewalk blearily, remembering the last time I was in town with Tristan this late at night. Thankfully, there haven’t been any sightings of obnoxious exes tonight.
“Your place or mine?” jokes Tristan, elbowing me.
I huff a soft, sleepy laugh, and just like that, the spell is broken. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed.
Opal yawns, swaying slightly as she declares her need for sleep. Tristan orders her an Uber then asks Malachi to ride with her so she gets home safe. They’ve been flirting all night, but Opal’s like Tristan in that way—it doesn’t always mean something with her. And anyway, Timmy jumps in their car at the last second so Malachi won’t have to ride home alone later. This is usually the case. They’re always in pairs.
Finn insists that I ride shotgun even though we’re in his car. He takes the back seat, snoring softly by the time we’ve reached the edge of town. Feeling lazy, I recline back in my seat, watching Tristan drive. He’s quiet and steady at the wheel, not as tipsy as I thought, a faraway look on his pretty face. We’re nearly home before he seems to remember I exist, and he glances down at me, smiling slightly when he catches me staring.
At home, I grab the tallest glass I can find and fill it with water before heading to my room. Kicking off my shoes, I gather my hair into a messy topknot and pace restlessly around my room. I’m still a little buzzed, riding high off the best night out I’ve had in a long, long time.
Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s wide awake because the distinct smell of weed hits my nose while I’m brushing my teeth. Really, guys? Rinsing my mouth, I wander into the living room and peek out the sliding glass doors. Tristan, Finn, Malachi, and Timmy are all on the deck, sitting on lounge chairs in the dark. “Thanks for telling me y’all were smoking.”
“But you never want to,” Timmy laughs, which is true. I’m rarely in the mood to partake, and when I do, it’s usually edibles. But I’m feeling frisky tonight.
Finn reaches over and hands me a smoking joint, which I hit lightly, unsure of how strong it is. Malachi stands, gesturing for me to sit. He’s the sweetest and most considerate of the group, always the first to help around the house. They’re all good guys, though.
“I’m okay,” I tell him, already feeling a little silly from the one hit. “Thanks.”
“You sure?” he says. “I’m about to head in.”
I hesitate, hoping I didn’t mess anything up by coming outside. Maybe they were having guy time. “You don’t have to?—"
“It’s cool, I promise,” he says, patting my arm as he passes by. “I’m so tired I’m about to pass out. Happy birthday, Evie.”
Finn and Timmy smoke with us for a few more minutes before they too head inside. Pouting, I look at Tristan. “I chased them all away, didn’t I?”
He laughs quietly, the burning cherry of his joint momentarily illuminating his face. “Oh, Evie.”
“What?” I poke his arm, feeling like I’m missing something. “Are you gonna abandon me, too?”
“Never.”
My chest tightens, and I lean back, staring up at the sky. Clouds keep passing over the moon, dipping us in and out of complete darkness.
“Did you have a good birthday?” Tristan asks, outing the joint.
“I did.” Rising from the lounge chair, I look out over the railing. It’s so dark, there’s not much to see. In the daytime there’s a wooded area, the street on the other side just visible through the trees. And then the beach. Sometimes, like now, the wind carries the faint smell of salt. “The best in a long time.”
“Really?” I can almost feel him looking at me in the dark. “I’m glad. I still wish I’d known, though.”
The wind kicks up, sprinkling goosebumps over my skin. It’s beginning to get a little cooler at night. “Well, now you know. Besides, what would you have done differently?”
“I don’t know, but I would’ve done something . You deserve it.” He comes to stand beside me, leaning his elbows on the railing.
I smile, my cheeks warming at his words. “Having you here is good enough for me.” The admission hangs in the air between us like smoke. Shit . I stare straight ahead, nauseated at the possibility that I've revealed too much. “I mean, you—you’ve done enough. More than you ever needed to.”
“Evie,” he says softly, like he knows. God, does he know?
“You’re a good guy,” I blurt, wishing I hadn’t smoked after all. Not if I’m going to make a fool of myself. As if Tristan hasn’t seen that enough—me looking like an idiot. How many times, when we were kids, did Maribelle humiliate me in front of him? How many times did I humiliate myself?
“You know you deserve to be happy, right? Truly happy.” His voice is smooth and quiet, like velvet against my ears. I shiver, wishing I could feel his voice even closer. “Don’t just settle for shit.”
My breath catches in my throat. “What are you saying?”
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips brushing my skin. “You deserve someone who really sees you.”
I swallow hard, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Do you? See me?”
Tristan pauses long enough that I’m tempted to throw myself over the railing. “Yeah, I see you,” he says, so quietly I could’ve imagined it.
I don’t know what he means or how he means it, but I do know that we’re in a different place than we were when all of this began. Turning, I pull him into a hug. His arms come around me, and he rests his cheek on top of my head. We stay that way for a long time, just hugging, nothing but the sound of crickets chirping, the wind in the trees.
After a moment, I pull back so I can look at him. He brings his gaze to mine, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me. And then I just don’t care anymore. It’s my birthday, and there’s only one thing I want. Rising to my toes, I brush my lips against his. His arms loosen from around me, and then his hands drop to my hips. He squeezes like he’s unsure, and then his lips press firmly against mine.
I grasp his shirt, pulling him against me as the kiss deepens. He grabs my face, licking into my mouth with hot, hungry kisses. But then, as quickly as it started, it ends. Tristan pulls away, putting a few steps between us. “We can’t do this,” he grits out, breathing heavily.
Oh, God. What did I do? Tristan said one nice thing to me and I laid it all out on the line, showing my soft underbelly. I’m no better than I was in high school, giving in to Cole because I was desperate for attention and approval. For love. Shame cuts through me like an icy wind, chilling me to the bone, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.
Tristan married me for one reason, and it wasn’t because he was in love with me or even attracted to me. I know his type, and it ain’t me. It could never be me.
My throat closes on the salt of my tears. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, edging around him. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Evie,” he says sharply.
I let myself back inside, careful to slide the door shut before racing through the darkened living room. Everything blurs once I’m in the safety of my room, and I fall face-first onto the bed, allowing my pillow to absorb my quiet sobs.
Something sharp pokes my face, and I roll over, rubbing my cheek. It’s a little bouquet of pink origami lilies, complete with green stems. I pick it up, my heart in my throat, and examine the beautifully intricate folds. Written across one of the stems, in Tristan’s neat, blocky print, it says, Happy Birthday Evie.