Chapter 16 Evie
EVIE
Inever knew that my sex life could be so good I’d need a nap to recover.
But here I am.
A few hours later, I’m in Keaton’s bathroom, tugging my hair up into a bun. I couldn’t decide what sort of outfit says, Sorry your dad sucks, sorry I broke your brother’s heart, and also, I’m back. So, I settled on jeans and my favorite green-and-black flannel.
I slip on my old white Nikes and walk out of the primary suite, padding down the hall toward the living room. As I do, I stop for a moment when I catch a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror.
I look like I’m comfortable here.
Like I know my way around.
Like I’m home.
I don’t know if that’s right or not. All I know is, I feel grounded when I’m wherever he is.
When I step into the living room, he’s on the phone. The expression on his face looks serious, but it lightens when he sees me. I make my way across the room to him, and he holds an arm out for me. I nestle into him as he ends his call, and he leans down to leave a kiss on my temple.
“Ready?” I ask him. He sighs and presses his head to mine.
“No. But let’s go anyway.”
Five minutes later, we’re in the back of the black Escalade on our way to Julian’s.
The ride over is quiet. He’s staring out at the city, and I’m staring at him.
I’m trying to channel my own anxiety about seeing Julian again into the need to be there for Keaton.
The need to make him the center of everything tonight. Put all my energy in him.
But as Mac turns the car into the driveway of a garage under a very tall building and scans a badge, I feel my nerves begin to dance.
I haven’t seen Julian Everett since I was twenty years old.
Julian is a hard read on a good day, but he always looked out for Keaton.
Keaton was arguably the most important person in Julian’s life when we were younger.
And then Brooks too, when he came along.
Julian tried to protect them from the insanity that was and is their family.
He followed the exact schooling and career path that their father wanted so that when it was Keaton’s turn, it wasn't such a big deal.
I remember Keaton telling me one time that the night their mom died, he couldn’t stop crying. Julian came in his room, sat on his bed, and held him like he was a small child.
Keaton has always danced to the beat of his own drum, but he didn’t escape the guilt that came from leaving his big brother to take all the responsibility and scrutiny.
Brooks is a different story. He is eleven years younger than Julian and eight years younger than Keaton.
He has a different mom than the older two and had a much different life.
I knew him as the spoiled rotten kid who had the most fucked-up, warped sense of reality.
Based on the clips I’ve seen on social media, he has now turned into a grown-up with a fucked-up, warped sense of reality.
When I last saw Brooks, he was a bratty twelve-year-old kid. He doesn’t intimidate me.
But Julian is a different story. He was there for Keaton’s and my story. He doesn’t trust people. And to be fair, I’m not sure I deserve his trust.
When Mac puts the car in park, Keaton gets out and holds out his hand for me.
“Let’s do this,” he sighs as we walk through the door and get into the elevator. Mac scans a badge again then presses the button that says penthouse. We ride in silence, and I rub my thumb over the back of his hand until the doors ding.
And then I’m in awe. I’ve never been to this apartment before. Julian didn’t live here when Keaton left town. It feels…big. Keaton’s apartment is fit for someone very, very rich. But it’s not a penthouse in downtown Manhattan. It’s more modest. It feels less lived-in. Less customized.
Julian’s apartment is fit for a king. Not a king. More like king of the fucking universe. It’s massive. Cathedral ceilings in a fucking apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere you look, like I’m watching Manhattan on an IMAX screen.
It’s impeccably decorated, a large painting of Kitty hanging on one wall.
It’s sleek, modern, and completely spotless, and I immediately feel even more anxious.
I expect it to be busy with help, maids, chefs…
but instead, there is no one except for Mac and another man who looks like he’s security too.
I swallow when, around the corner, pads in a petite little brunette with a big smile on her face. She can’t be more than twenty-one or twenty-two years old. Then I remember seeing this online too.
“Hi, Keat,” she says, arms outstretched. She takes him in for a hug and rubs his back as her eyes land on me. “Who is—”
“What’s going on?” a booming voice from the back of the room commands.
Julian looks the same. Maybe a few more wrinkles around his eyes but, otherwise, the same.
His eyes bounce from me, to Keaton, back to me, back to Keaton.
“Evie?” he asks. I relish in the way he says my name.
Other than Keaton, he’s the only other person who has ever called me Evie that first knew me as Genevieve.
Once he found out I preferred it, he never wavered.
He may not have liked me, but he respected me.
“Hi, Julian,” I say sheepishly. Keaton gives my hand a knowing squeeze. “It is really, really good to see you.”
His eyebrows knit together as he comes closer, placing his hand on the brunette’s back. She looks at him, then to me, then thrusts her hand out.
“Since Julian is being rude, hi,” she says with a smile. “I’m Sawyer.”
I take her hand and smile back.
“I’m Evie,” I say. There’s a long silence, like everyone is waiting for me to provide some context.
But I don’t know what context to give them.
I’m Keaton’s ex-best friend, who desperately called him a few days ago and has since then filed for divorce and fucked him repeatedly, just doesn’t feel like it’s going to be the smoothest.
“Evie was Keaton’s best friend growing up,” Julian says for us as he looks back and forth between us again. “And now she’s…back?”
Keaton smiles, bringing my hand to his lips.
“She’s back,” is all he offers his big brother, and that seems to be enough to suffice. Maybe it’s the distraction of everything with Cato, or maybe it’s this new girl who’s softened him up a bit. But either way, I let out a sigh of relief as he gives me a nod then leads us into his study.
There is a large wooden table in the corner of the room by the windows, and he leads us to it and motions for us to sit down.
He lifts up a folder then looks at Keaton.
“I assume that…” Julian says, motioning to me. Keaton nods.
“She knows,” he says. Julian nods slowly.
“I would never—” I start to say, but Julian just nods.
“I know,” he says. “I know. And I wish we had some more time for you two to catch me up on what the hell is happening with you two right now, but the reporter will be here any minute, and she has requested that she just meet with us brothers—at least for this first time. Of course, Brooks bailed again. And I’m not waiting on his ass.
Are you two okay waiting upstairs?” Julian looks at Sawyer and me.
I look at Keaton. He gives me a sad smile and nods.
“I will do whatever you guys need me to do,” I say.
“We will go hang upstairs,” Sawyer says. “Let us know if you need us. Come on, Evie. We’ll get some grub and watch shitty TV.”
I smile.
“Sounds great.” I turn back to Keaton, eyeing the folder. I put my hand on his face. “I’m right here.”
He leans forward and kisses my cheek again.
“I know.”
With that, I follow Sawyer out of the study, down the hall, and up the massive floating staircase.
“This place is nuts,” I say as I look out over the city. She giggles.
“I thought I’d be used to it by now, but I don’t know if I ever will be,” she says.
We walk into what looks to be a large rec room with a red-velvet pool table in one corner, an air hockey table at the other, three huge couches, some arcade games, and a TV screen that is the size of the entire wall.
There is also a full stocked bar, a coffee bar, and what appears to be a vending machine.
She walks to the bar and goes behind it, grabbing two glasses.
“Want anything?” she asks.
I think about it. A nice glass of whiskey sounds good right now to calm my nerves, but I want to be in the right headspace for him. I want to be ready when he’s done and needs me.
“Maybe just a seltzer water?” I ask. She nods, and I see that she’s making herself a sweet iced tea.
She comes around and hands me the glass then leads me toward the couches.
We plop down, and she leans over to hit a few buttons on a remote that looks more like a tablet.
The lighting above us dims a bit, and the massive television turns on.
The channel switches to a trashy dating show, which is exactly what I’d be putting on if I were alone, stressing right now. Then she turns to me.
“So,” she says, pulling her legs up underneath her, “since we didn’t really get an intro earlier, want to give me yours?”
I smile, turning to face her and pulling my legs up too.
“What do you want to know?”
“Well, first, I want to know if you are the Evie,” Sawyer says. I roll my lips together and narrow my eyes.
“The Evie?” I ask. She nods.
“Once, I was asking Julian about Keaton’s dating life. In the months that I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him talk to, talk about, or even stand near a woman. I asked Julian if he was gay, but he said no. He said he has never been quite the same after Evie. Are you that Evie?”
I love how forward she is.
“Yeah, I guess I am that Evie,” I say. “I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”
She shrugs.
“Me either,” she says. “But I’d say that if you’re really back, that’s probably good.”
I smile and nod.
“So tell me,” she says, “how did you end up back here with him? Why are you sticking around for the shitshow?”
I laugh. I don’t know this girl, but she’s been accepted into the tight trust circle of the Everett brothers, so she must be okay. And then I think about how to tell my favorite story of all time: the story of us.