Chapter 26
Martin
Evan slams the door, then comes straight into the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”
“Fried chicken, potato wedges, and cobs.”
He leans over the cooker to check on it, then glances at his watch. “How long is it going to take?”
“Do you have plans?”
He hops up onto the kitchen counter.
“Do you mind? I’m cooking. There’s not enough space, and it’s not hygienic.”
Evan rolls his eyes. “You should find a bigger place.”
“I don’t need a bigger apartment. I live alone anyway. You never come over, and when you do, you can’t wait to leave. Being only five minutes from the hospital is convenient for me and, as you know, I’m on call.”
Evan snorts and hops off the counter. He goes to the fridge, opens it, and pulls out a beer.
“Are you kidding me?”
“I’m at home with my dad.”
“You’re not eighteen yet.”
“Not long now.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“If you don’t hassle me about the beer, I’ll set the table.”
“Deal.”
I pull the potatoes out of the oven and set them on the counter to cool while Evan moves around me to set the table. I grab two plates from the cupboard, heap them with food, and carry them over.
“Don’t forget the butter,” Evan reminds me.
“What are you going to do with the butter?”
“If you want me to eat your cobs, I have to drown them in butter first.”
I roll my eyes, set the plates down, then get butter for my son and a beer for myself before finally sitting.
Evan starts eating right away, and I watch him swallow everything without even chewing.
“How are classes going?”
“For fuck’s sake!”
“What did I say?”
“I don’t want to talk about college.”
“Tell me something about training, the team…”
“Do you really care?”
“I do.”
“I already talk about it enough with Ryan.”
“Of course,” I say as I cut the chicken.
“Besides, you’ve never been interested in sports.”
“I used to play some too, you know?”
“Yeah, sure. Twenty years ago.”
“It hasn’t been twenty years.”
“Whatever.”
Typical Evan answer. I wonder how many more dinners he’ll give me before he cuts me out of his life for good.
“And what do you have to do tonight?” I ask, hoping this topic will be less boring.
“I have a thing.”
“A date?”
Evan shoots me a sideways look.
“Is there any topic we can talk about?”
He pretends to think it over, but just as I’m about to scream in frustration, my phone rings. I push back from the table, grab my cell from the kitchen counter, and stare at his name on the screen.
“Don’t tell me. They called you for an emergency.”
“N-no.”
“So? Answer it. What are you waiting for?”
I hit the green button and lift the phone to my ear.
“Hey.”
That single word is all it takes for something in me to rise from the ashes.
“Hello,” I whisper.
“Are you at work?”
“No, I’m home,” I say, my voice dropping again as I glance back at Evan over my shoulder.
I could go to my room to talk, but that would be worse. Evan wouldn’t let me get away with it. Better to stay here and be as discreet as possible.
“You sound strange.”
“No, it’s just… I’m not… er… alone.”
“I see.” His voice turns harsh.
“No, what have you… It’s not what you think!”
Evan coughs.
Shit.
“I don’t think anything.”
“My son is here.”
His sigh of relief runs through my whole body.
Fuck. Is this really happening?
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You didn’t.”
“I just wanted…”
“Me too,” I say instinctively, cutting him off.
I want to spare him the embarrassment. He’s already made the call; I don’t want to leave all the work to him.
“I feel stupid.” From his tone, I can tell he’s smiling. In my mind, I can immediately picture his manipulative, arsehole grin.
“You’re not.”
“I told myself I’d call him — no, I’d text him — then… the urge to hear your voice took over.”
“I would have done it myself as soon as I was alone.”
He’s still smiling; I can feel it.
“All I do is think about it. You, the car door, your mouth… us.”
I sigh with him.
“I’d love to do it again.”
“Good to know.”
“Did you have doubts?”
“Some. Maybe…”
“It seemed pretty obvious to me.”
And if I don’t end this call right now, I’ll have to explain my very obvious overexcitement to my son.
“Tomorrow I have a meeting after training, and I’ll be late, and then there’s the pre-match rest…”
“All right.”
“I just wanted to let you know. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t want to see you.”
“Thank you.”
He sighs again. “Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Good night, Doctor.”
“Good night.”
I end the call and set the phone on the counter. When I turn back, my son is no longer eating. He stands with his arms folded, one eyebrow raised, studying my face.
“Yeah, it’s obvious your thing is way more interesting than mine.”