Chapter Four
My relationships have never worked out…
Why does he suddenly think a relationship—no, a marriage—between us would end up any differently?
This morning is hot and stifling, and my mind is going into overdrive—the conversation I had with Evan a few days ago is still rolling around in my head. I keep turning his words this way and that, trying to figure out what he meant. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to figure it out.
But I don’t even want to entertain the thought of dating Evan, because that would mean losing Evan. And I can’t lose Evan. I’ve already lost my two best girlfriends. Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic—they’re still here, they’re just too busy for little ol’ me.
And quite frankly, Evan’s the only person keeping me afloat right now. He’s my lifeline. My calm in the storm. He’s the one person that helps me feel less … alone.
Is our friendship not enough for him?
“What are you thinking about? You look like your head is gonna explode.” Carol laughs, interrupting my thoughts. She just finished helping a customer pick out a perfume, and now she smells like a combination of every flower known to mankind.
I wave my hand in front of my face, trying to disperse the heavy fumes a little, but it doesn’t help.
“I just had a few rough days,” I reply, realizing that I don’t necessarily want to talk about Evan with Carol.
“If you want to talk, I’m right here,” she says. “Well, assuming this cloud of perfume doesn’t choke us both.”
“Thanks. My friends should be here any moment now. I’ve been waiting for them,” I reply, looking toward the door of the beauty shop for the millionth time this morning.
“Oh really? They’re in a shopping mood at this hour?”
“My friend Larisa is visiting from out of town. She’s getting married, so she wants to pick out some makeup for the wedding. My other friend, Josephine, and I are her bridesmaids, and we’re going to help her,” I explain.
“That sounds like so much fun!” she says.
“I’m honestly just excited to see them. They’ve both been so busy lately. I feel a little … hmm … neglected?” I confess.
“Aww, really?”
“Kind of. I mean, we’ve been besties since high school. But so much has changed since then, you know? But I guess that’s just how life goes. I don’t blame them or anything like that. I’m super happy for them. Jo has been married to Jacob for a while now, and she’s busy looking after their daughter, Clem. And Larisa got a fancy job in Los Angeles that she travels a lot for. Plus, she has a wedding to plan. But it was only a few years ago that the three of us used to be … you know, just us girls. We met up all the time, had pizza and cheap wine, and talked until morning. It was so much fun. Things aren’t like that anymore.”
“Come on, don’t be sad,” Carol says, reaching out to pat me on the shoulder.
“I’m not sad, per se. I guess I’m just feeling nostalgic. I get that life moves on and that things change, and they’re both living out their dreams. So I really am happy for them.” I shrug. “And on the plus side, it has brought me a lot closer to Evan. We’ve spent so much more time together lately—just him and I.”
“There you go! Every cloud has a silver lining!” Carol smiles.
“I guess…”
She looks at me as if she’s trying to read my mind, something I don’t particularly enjoy. “Could it be that you’re also a little sad because your two best friends are now in different stages of their lives and … you’re not?” Carol asks me.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, both Larisa and Josephine have started new chapters, while you’re in the same stage of your life as you’ve always been. Could it be that’s also what’s bothering you?”
I shift my weight from one leg to the other as I ponder her question.
If I’m being honest, the idea of being the only one left behind—not only without a husband and children, but also without so much as a romantic relationship—doesn’t make me feel very good about myself. And given my less-than-stellar dating track record, it can feel a little hopeless sometimes.
But I don’t want to confess that to Carol.
I don’t even want to confess that to myself.
“Maybe … I don’t know … it’s complicated. Look, it’s not like I want to get married or anything like that. I mean, I’m not obsessed with the idea. I just—”
Just then, the door to the beauty shop opens and Larisa and Josephine walk through, saving me the trouble of having to finish that sentence.
As always, both of them look incredible.
Jo has entirely leaned into her role as a billionaire’s wife and looks the part. Her luxurious clothes and makeup have transformed her into an arresting vision that’s enough to take anyone’s breath away. While Larisa has that inexplicable air that we associate with celebrities. And given that she’s marrying one, it makes sense. She’s confident, beyond beautiful, and fantastically charming.
They walk through the shop and greet me loudly. “There you are! Oh, my goodness! We haven’t seen each other in … how long has it been?” Jo asks me.
“Since Christmas,” I reply, trying not to sound a little miffed about it.
“Christmas? No, that can’t be right. It’s June!” she replies.
“It’s true. You had that big bash at the mansion for Christmas, and we were able to spend some time together then. Not a lot, but…”
“Oh, wow. I hadn’t even realized! I’m so sorry, friend. I’ve just been so busy! Now that Clem is in high school, her extracurriculars are taking up all of our time. Not to mention, Jacob is thinking about moving to London temporarily, so we’ve just had a lot on our plate,” Jo says.
There’s no ill intent behind her words—she’s only giving me a rundown of her life—but I still feel a little left out.
“Don’t mind her. She’s just a billionaire’s wife.” Larisa steps in and hugs me.
“What about you, then? Miss I’m-marrying-one-of-the-biggest-celebrities-in-the-world?” Jo laughs.
Carol makes a surprised face upon hearing this. “You’re marrying a celebrity? Who is it?”
“Gianluca Ferraro,” Larisa replies with so much grace and elegance, it’s as if she’s saying that she had a salad for lunch.
“No way! Get out of here! You’re marrying Gianluca Ferraro? Oh, my goodness! I love him! He’s like … my dream guy! I just…” Carol bursts, not realizing how inappropriate this is, given that she’s talking to the actor’s fiancée.
“Larisa, Jo, you remember Carol,” I try to cut off her commentary.
“Sure. How are you, Carol?”
“Not as good as you!” She laughs.
“Maybe…” the girls say graciously.
“What’s happening here?” A nasally voice suddenly interrupts our chatting.
Mr. Doyle makes an unwanted appearance from the back of the beauty shop.
“Mr. Doyle, we’re—”
“Why are you two bothering the customers?! How many times have I told you to be respectful and quiet?” he snaps.
“They’re not bothering us,” Larisa replies. “We were preparing to look at some perfumes until you interrupted us.”
Mr. Doyle is silenced for a moment.
“Well, then … carry on,” he says, but I know he won’t back down that easily.
“As if we need your permission.” Jo adds.
They turn around and move toward the other side of the store, with Carol and I following closely behind.
“Guys, I appreciate you sticking up for me, but you’re gonna get me in trouble.” I whisper. “Mr. Doyle can’t say anything else to you, but the moment you both leave, he’s gonna take his anger out on me and Carol.”
“Emmy, you need a new job. Seriously. That man is awful to you. What are you still doing in this place?” Jo asks me. “How many times have you said that you want to be a freelance makeup artist? What happened to that dream?”
“Nothing happened to that dream, Jo! But it costs so much money! I’d have to buy an entire kit, invest in advertising, and get my name out there. Where am I supposed to find that kind of money? On the street?”
“I told you a million times that I’d be more than happy to give it to you! And you know Evan would give you the money as well!” she says.
“Come on. I don’t need charity from my rich friends, thanks,” I tell her. “And Evan—oh man, I was waiting for us to meet so that I could tell you guys in person. I had breakfast with him a few days ago and he…” I stop talking when I notice that Carol is, once again, eavesdropping.
She’s leaning against a glass counter, not even hiding the fact that she wants to hear what I have to say. “Are you guys talking about Evan? Oh, great! I love gossip!”
Larisa, Jo, and I stare at her for a moment, not sure what to make of this.
“Umm … not at the moment, Carol. We were just about to look at some of these perfumes here. So, which one did you want for your wedding day, Larisa?” I ask, trying to take the conversation in another direction.
“How about this Chanel one?” she answers, catching my drift.
I take the bottle, and spray some on her wrist.
She takes a whiff. “Mhm … great, I smell like toilet cleaner. Seriously. Who wears this?”
“What’s the problem? You don’t want to smell like a fancy toilet on your wedding day?” Jo jokes.
“I think I’d rather smell like a fancy, you know, bride!” Larisa answers sarcastically.
“Booooriiiiing,” I add and we all giggle.
“How about this Gucci one? It has notes of bergamot, vanilla, uuummm … peaches … here, let me spray some for you,” I say.
Larisa puts out her hand. “I like it. I don’t know if I love it, but I’m definitely into it. Smells a little like … fruit cake?”
“I was going to say my Aunt Myrna’s fruit punch.” Jo smirks.
“Who invited you today?” Larisa laughs. “Don’t you have some billionaire wifey duties you need to be doing right now?”
“I do, but I put them all off for you.” She smiles.
“Lucky me.”
“Guys, come on, let’s focus,” I tell them as I see Mr. Doyle watching us like a hawk nearby.
“So, what were you saying about Evan?” Larisa whispers to me.
“Oh, just that we had a very interesting conversation a few days ago. He told me something that took me entirely by surprise.”
Jo approaches us and leans in, curious to hear more. “What did he tell you? Are they experimenting on people at that hospital of his? Because I read something on Reddit that said they’re—”
“What? No! That’s not what I meant, Jo. And stop believing everything you read on Reddit.” I roll my eyes.
“Fine, but you should know that the experiment thing is real. And you should totally ask Evan, since he works there,” she says.
Both Larisa and I frown at her.
“Are you done with your conspiracy theorizing?! Can we talk about my thing now? Great. So, as I was saying, a few days ago, Evan and I had breakfast after one of his super long shifts at the hospital.”
“Was it long because they were doing experiments?”
“STOP!” both Larisa and I tell Jo, before realizing that she was just joking this time. And now she’s laughing at us.
“Wow, you two are so easy … anyway, go on.”
“So, we were having breakfast and he brought up the marriage pact,” I tell them.
“What do you mean he brought it up?”
“Well, he asked me if I remember when we made it in high school, and if I’ve ever considered honoring it.”
“Shut up!” Larisa says, and just as her words come out, I hear a crash of glass and metal.
Behind us, Carol had just dropped a bottle of perfume and it’s now shattered on the floor, leaving behind an oily mess of amber liquid and shards of glass.
In an instant, Mr. Doyle’s nasally voice comes from behind, yelling at her—at both of us. “Now look what you did! You two girls are absolutely incompetent—the worst employees I’ve ever had! That is coming out of both your paychecks!”
“Me? What did I do? I wasn’t even near her!” I tell him.
“You were not paying attention! You never pay attention!!! You don’t do your job properly, and now look what happened! You’re paying for this!”
“Alright, alright, let’s calm down, sir,” Jo says. “First of all, I need you to stop yelling at these ladies. They are women and they’re your employees. This is no way to treat them. Have I made myself clear? And, second of all, I will pay for the bottle of perfume. There. Problem solved. Now, stop before that mustache flies off your face and there’s one more thing around here that we need to throw in the trash.”
I have to stifle my laughter as she delivers him this final blow.
I can see that Mr. Doyle wants to fight back, but he can’t. He’s in the wrong and doesn’t want to antagonize the clearly rich customer even further.
As a result, he turns to Carol and me. “You two! Clean this up. This place smells like toilet cleaner!”
After he disappears into the back, Carol and I can breathe again.
“Guys, let me go and get a mop to clean this up. I’ll be right back. Then we can try out some makeup, okay?” I say, taking a few steps away from them.
That’s when I notice something entirely weird.
My vision grows somewhat distorted and the view I have of the beauty shop becomes lopsided—as if someone has turned it on its side somehow.
The shelves are on their side, and even the ceiling, with its awful florescent lights, is facing the wrong way.
I’m aware that all around me, my friends, as well as Carol, have started to scream.
And now, they’re hovering above me, their hands reaching for me.
Questions come my way, but I can’t exactly make out their meaning, even though I try my hardest.
Slowly, a blinding pain starts to radiate through my left side, starting from my left arm and all the way up to my shoulder, ending with the back of my head.
With my right hand, I feel around and notice that I’m now lying on the cold floor, and there’s shards of the perfume bottle all around me.
It’s weird, because I have no recollection of slipping and falling in the oily mess.
But the pain at the back of my head is getting stronger and stronger.
Evan’s face swims through my mind’s eye, and I wish he was here with me. Not just because he’s a doctor and he would surely know what to do at this moment, but because … it’s Evan. I want him here. I want him to hold my hand. To kiss my forehead and tell me that everything will be fine.
I realize that I’m afraid.
The sensation of panic spreads through me even faster than the pain and my entire body starts to shake. My mind is beginning to catch up to what has happened to me physically, and I now know that I slipped, fell, and most likely broke my left arm and hit the back of my head in the process. My vision is still blurry as a result, and my arm is in so much pain now that I can barely breathe.
“Evan…” I mutter.
“What? What’s she saying?”
“She’s delirious! Call the ambulance! Now!”
“I did call the ambulance! They’re on their way!”
“Call again! There’s no time to lose!”
“I can’t call again! What would be the point of that? She’s not dying!”
“Evan … Call Evan … I want to … Evan … hospital…” I try to explain.
“She’s saying something! Shhh … Everyone, quiet! She’s saying something!” Jo demands.
“Is she talking about the damage to the store?” Mr. Doyle asks stupidly.
Jo looks at him with such rage that I’m positive she’s about to slap him across the mouth.
“Evan … I want to go to Evan’s hospital. Call Evan … Where is he?” I manage to say.
“Who is this Evan person? Will he pay for the damage?” Mr. Doyle asks again.
“There was no damage to your store! She slipped and broke her arm. What are you on about?” Larisa asks him.
I close my eyes, partly to get away from their bickering and the harsh fluorescent lights, and partly because the pain is so difficult to endure. But as I do, the image of Evan swims in my mind, and it’s very comforting.
I want to get to him.
Where is he?