Chapter 5
KEATON
Ishould move.
I should get up and move.
I should untangle her legs from mine.
I should free my sweatpants from the death grip she’s had on the fabric since she finally fell asleep last night.
But I’m not going to. Because watching her sleep in my apartment, on my couch is bringing me a sort of peace that I never thought I’d experience again. I know it might be short-lived. I know it will most likely be short-lived. All the more reason for me to soak in every second of it.
God, she’s even more beautiful than she was when we were kids.
The thirties version of Evie is my favorite.
There was something missing in her big green eyes, though, when I saw her in that diner earlier.
All our lives, she was the most self-assured, steadfast person I had ever known. She kept me grounded.
Now, though, she seems like she questions every move she makes.
Like she might need someone to remind her who she is.
God, I want it to be me.
And as I watch her draw in a long, shuddered breath, I realize that I’m right back to where I was a decade ago.
Completely in love with her.
Fuck.
She stirs again, finally loosening her grip, and I decide to sneak out from under her and make some coffee for when she does wake up.
I pad across the living room and into the kitchen, flick the espresso machine on, and get to work.
While I wait for it to brew, I steal another look at her, her hands now folded up underneath her face.
I don’t know what it will mean when she wakes up, but if this is all I get, then I want to remember every second of it.
Just as I’m stirring two Sweet-n-Lows into her cup and adding “absolutely no cream” as she would have ordered it ten years ago, I wonder if her order has changed. I wonder if any of her other tastes have changed too.
“Morning,” I hear her murmur behind me as I’m spinning back around to face her, one mug in each hand. She’s sitting up on the couch now, rubbing her eyes and tucking a stray lock of copper hair behind her ear. I can’t help but smile. The light streams in from all the windows, and she’s glowing.
“Morning,” I say, walking toward her and holding one of the mugs out to her. She inspects it then smiles.
“Absolutely no cream?” she asks. I smile and nod as I sit back down next to her.
“Not a drop,” I assure her. “Wasn’t sure if you still took it like that, but I figured I’d give it a shot.”
She takes a sip and smiles.
“I’m a creature of habit,” she says. “Not much has changed.”
There’s an awkward silence between us, and I’m pretty sure we’re both thinking the same thing.
Everything has changed.
“What are—”
“Why are—” we both go to speak at the same time. She smiles.
“You go,” she says. But I shake my head. “Okay, um…I was just gonna ask why you were back in New York. Or, I guess, how often you come back?”
I put my mug down on the coffee table and look at her.
“Not often,” I say. “New York is…hard for me.” She swallows and looks down at her cup. “But there’s some shit going on with the uh…businesses. And J called and asked me to come, so I did.”
She nods.
“Anything you want to talk about?” she asks. I can’t help but smile. Her world is literally flipping on its axis, but she wants to talk about me. I shake my head and put my hand over top of hers.
“Yeah,” I say. “You.” She lifts her eyes to mine. “Talk to me, Eve.”
Her eyes drop immediately, and I see her hands sneak out from under mine and immediately start twisting the fringe on the blanket.
I put my hands on hers again. I wait for her to slow down a beat and raise those big emerald blues to me again.
And then I see the tears forming in them, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and pull her into me.
“What am I gonna do?” she whispers, and her voice cracks under a soft sob.
She swallows it back down, but I can see her fighting it off.
We sit in silence for a moment as I get my bearings and figure out how I’m going to respond to that.
A good friend would tell her she would figure it out.
That she will make the right choice. That she’ll get back on her feet.
But if I learned anything over the last twenty years of having her in and out of my life, it’s that I don’t want to be her friend.
And I want her to know that nothing has changed about the way I feel for her.
That she’s too good for a life where she’s afraid in her own home.
I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb, and I look into her eyes.
“You’re going to leave him, Eve,” I say just above a whisper. Her eyes widen and flit up to mine. I feel her palm clamming up under mine.
“I…I can’t afford to leave him,” she says. “It’s not that—”
“Whatever you need is yours,” I tell her, and she slips her hand out from under mine, shaking her head like a maniac.
“No. Absolutely not.” She stands up, wrapping her arms around her body and walking toward the huge windows that look out over the city.
It’s rainy today, and despite the crisis she’s having, I just want to wrap her up and carry her to my bed, stay cooped up all day, and ignore any and all of the responsibilities that we both wish would vanish into thin air.
I stand slowly, walking leisurely toward her. I get closer until my chest is only an inch or two from her back. I lower my head down so my lips are next to her ear.
“I told you, Evie,” I whisper. “Even when you had him, you still had me. And you still do.”