Now #3
“It’s the Volkswagen Group. They have an Audi team.” He gives me a side look, surprised that I’d know that. “What? I spent seven years with you. Of course I know such things.”
“Still, I’m impressed. As for the car, it was the only fun one they had available in Denver, and I’m not driving a Honda Civic. It would destroy my street cred.”
When the car starts, I’m thrown back in time. I haven’t been in anything that has more than four cylinders in forever. The last time was with him, actually. We used to go on these day trips together, driving into the horizon as if nothing mattered as long as we were together.
I’m silent for a moment after he pulls us onto the road, watching the familiar streets pass from this new, lower perspective.
Giving him the papers was always going to bring back memories.
I thought I’d be strong enough to keep them buried and not let regrets take over, but the more time I spend with him, the harder it gets.
“Can you sign the papers, please?” I ask out of the blue.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘Why?’”
“Why is it so important to you?”
“Because there is someone else I want to marry. And we haven’t been together for seven years. And we need to move on. And it’s the right thing to do. Do you want me to keep going?”
“No, I get the idea. I’ll sign them.”
“Thank you.”
“After I’ve met Nathan.”
“Why?!”
“I want to make sure he’s the right one for you.”
I chortle. “You have no right to ask that. Your opinion of my fiancé doesn’t matter, Jackson.”
“Then let me meet him, and I’ll sign the papers even if he’s a tool.”
“He’s not a tool.”
There’s a brief moment of pause before he asks. “What does he do for a living?”
“He’s an analyst for an insurance company.”
I can hear the smirk on Jax’s lips when he says, “That sounds thrilling. I love that for him.”
“He’s a good guy, okay? He treats me well. He’s always on time. And he has excellent jokes.”
The car does a swerve, slipping past our lane and suddenly returning to it. “Sorry, I fell asleep listening to that,” Jackson explains with a shit-eating expression on his smug face.
“You’re an a-hole.”
“A what?”
“An a-hole.”
“Sorry, I still didn’t get that.”
“An asshole!” I shout.
“There you go.”
“Stop teasing me about this. And should I remind you that I’m a small-time architect in a small town? Actually, I’m not even a licensed architect. Nathan and I are compatible. Extremely compatible.”
He chuckles, the sound as low as the car’s roar as he drives us with ease through the morning traffic.
“Do you like your job?” he then wonders.
“I love it. Getting to help people build their dream houses is even better than I imagined.”
“What about yours? Did you build it?”
“No. I bought it like that, and I haven’t had time to work on the improvements I have in mind.”
“Will the backyard fit an infinity pool?”
“A very small one, maybe.”
When I look at him, I find his gaze already on me. I avert mine, but not quickly enough. I have time to notice the longing in those mismatched eyes, an expression I used to be so familiar with coming from him. We genuinely were great together, up until a certain point.
Despite all the feelings and memories these encounters are bringing back, I remain convinced that we’re better apart.
Nathan is so much better suited for me and my life than Jackson ever was.
I’m not falling back into that infinite whirlwind of worries and excitement.
I’ve escaped that vortex once. I’m not risking it again.
The rest of the ride is utterly silent, and we pull in front of the office building a few minutes before I’m officially late. I’m about to get out of the car without another word when Jax stops me with, “Evie, wait.”
I brace myself for more of his teasing, but the graveness in his eyes tells me otherwise. “Let me meet Nathan,” he demands again. “I promise I’ll sign the divorce papers, no matter how it goes.”
“I don’t want you to meet my fiancé,” I counter.
“Why?”
“Because—” I’m not sure what to say, so I stop myself.
Because I don’t trust that you won’t try to intimidate him until he breaks off the engagement.
Because I told Nathan this thing we had was puppy love, a teenage fling that went a little too far, and if he sees us together, he’ll know I lied.
Because seeing you two in the same room will remind me of what I used to have and what I’m signing up for.
Because he won’t compare to you.
“Because I don’t want to,” I simply repeat.
“I see.”
I open the door, needing out of this oppressive space, and climb, almost literally, out of the car.
Once the door is closed, I don’t turn around and walk to the entrance.
Thankfully, it’s late enough that barely anyone is around, and only a couple of people witness my atypical way of transportation.
“You’re welcome for the ride,” Jackson shouts, having rolled down a window.
“Go fix my car, Hot Wheels,” I retort, turning around only for a second before continuing my walk.
“Your wish is my command, princess.”
This time, I don’t turn around as I shout, “Then sign the papers!”