Chapter 35
The next morning, I call Evan. He picks up almost immediately.
“Hey, Mel,” he says. He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a yawn and a stretch.
“On a Saturday,” he reminds me. “But no, I’m fine. How did it go last night?” He moans out another stretch. “I’ll make the coffee. You spill the tea.”
“It was…hmm. I’m not really even sure where to start.”
“Intrigue. I like it.”
“He stood me up for dinner.”
“He did not!”
“But that was just the beginning of the night.”
“Okay…”
“So, I get there just shy of seven, and I wait a little bit and he doesn’t show up, and I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, right?
Like, he must have had issues on the subway or something like that.
” I take a sip of my own coffee and realize it’s gone cold.
“So, finally, I order myself dinner because, not for nothing, I was hungry. And I eat it—alone, mind you—and pay the bill and head for the door.” I place the mug into the microwave.
“Just then, it starts to pour, and I’m like, ‘Great. Perfect. Just what I need.’ I’m about to go make a beeline for the train station when I look across the street, and Evan? ”
“Yeah?”
“He’s just sitting there, on the steps of a church, in the rain.”
“Seriously?”
“So I go over and I’m confused, right? I ask him what he’s doing and he tells me he couldn’t go in and yadda yadda yadda. Long story short, he kissed me.”
“In the rain? On the steps of a church?”
“Yes. Well, on the sidewalk.”
“Wow.” I hear his Keurig make that your-coffee’s-just-about-done gurgle. “What did you do?”
“I kissed him back, and then his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Analise Renda.”
“No,” he seethed.
“Yes! And then I left.”
“Hold up. Why did he kiss you? I mean, not that you’re not, like, a total catch. Just saying.”
“Don’t say that in front of Oliver,” I reply. The microwave beeps, and I take out the mug.
“Oh my God, don’t even. I’m so mad at him right now. Some gym rat slid into his DMs yesterday so I Gram-banned him. It’s drama city over here. But back to you.”
“Well, don’t crucify Oliver for being hot. It’s not his fault. Plus, he’s as loyal as a puppy dog. Go easy on him.”
Evan sighs. “I like the tension. Leads to excellent makeup sex.”
“Fair enough.” I take a careful sip of my reheated coffee.
“Anyway, you were saying.”
“Right. So I guess it would help if I tell you the whole story.”
“Uh huh.”
I start at the beginning, with the scene at JFK and the subsequent plane ride, and, about twenty minutes later, I end with the plane ride home, alone, with my mother’s ashes in a takeout container.
“Oh, Mel,” Evan sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this before?”
“I kind of did. I mean, right? You knew there was a guy in Aruba.”
“Yeah, but you left out, like, a really important part.”
“Which is?”
“You love him! Or, well, loved him. I don’t know—do you? Love him?”
“It’s a loaded question, Ev.” I pause. “If you’d asked me in Aruba, like during the week, I would have told you that yeah, for sure, I was falling in love with him. But then, as soon as the whole thing with my mom happened, I just—I don’t know—I couldn’t. Does that make any sense?”
“Sort of? Not really?”
“It was my fault that she died,” I say.
“No. It wasn’t.”
“If I had been there, maybe I could have saved her.”
“Okay, sure. Maybe you could have. But maybe not. Mel, she had congestive heart failure. You knew that going there. It wasn’t like she was super healthy and all of a sudden she passed away.
Maybe she would have died in your arms. Maybe you would have had to watch it.
Think what that would have done to you.”
“Jeez,” I say, under my breath.
“Listen, honey, you know I love you, so anything I say is said with absolutely nothing but genuine affection. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe your mom dying the way she did was a good thing?”
“A good thing? No. I have not ever thought of it that way.”
“Hear me out. There’s no question that your mother was incredible, right?
Like, probably the best mom to ever exist. All she wanted was for you to be happy, and healthy, and safe.
And she had that—you gave her that! I mean, I get it.
I get why you could feel all sorts of things in the aftermath, of course.
But have you ever tried to think about the other side?
About what she was feeling? Or going through? ”
I try to consider his words. “I know she wasn’t a hundred percent herself anymore. She would sometimes have, like, coughing fits. And she napped. A lot.”
“This is what I mean. Maybe she was just holding on until she knew you’d be all right without her.”
“But that never happened,” I point out. “I never was okay without her. I’m still not okay without her.”
“No. I understand that.” He stops for a second, takes a sip of coffee. “Let me go about this a different way.” He takes a cleansing breath. “Okay. Cats.”
“Cats?”
“Yeah. Cats. Did you know that when house cats die, they usually hide?”
“I think I’ve heard that, yes.”
“It’s like, they know it’s coming. And they don’t want to just die in front of everybody. So they go into, like, the basement or under the couch or something.”
“What does this have to do—”
“Just hear me out. What if your mom knew it was coming? Like, maybe not on the surface, but maybe in her subconscious?”
“So, you think that’s why she encouraged me to go out for the night?”
“Not necessarily. Not specifically like that. But maybe? You know?”
“Well, I definitely never thought of it that way before.”
“I know. It’s just something to consider. You don’t know. She might have been holding out. She might have been pushing it that week, knowing something incredible was about to happen to you, and she wanted to stick around to make sure you were good.”
“I guess that’s a whole different way of looking at it.”
“Exactly. It’s all in how you spin it.”
“Well, thank you for the perspective, I guess. But there’s something else. Another reason why I called you.”
“Shoot.”
I take a deep breath. Try to center myself. Just spit it out. “I can’t do the People magazine interview, Ev.”
He’s silent.
“Did you hear what I said?” I ask.
I hear him inhale. “Yeah. I heard you, Mel.”
“Are you mad?”
“No. I could never be mad at you. I don’t necessarily understand, but I’m not mad.”
“Can I explain?”
“Please.”
“I was with Beckett yesterday, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“And first I was annoyed and, like, what the fuck? Why would he stand me up? But then, seeing him out there, it felt like he was putting it all on the line, even just showing up to see me, you know? Like, he’s this guy who’s kind of famous, almost—he’s with someone who’s larger than life, his book sales are out of control, and sure, maybe he’s not a household name yet but he’s definitely on his way to getting there. ”
“Okay,” Evan says.
“Do you ever feel like maybe you know what’s best for someone, even if they don’t know it themselves?”
“Um, yes, I am quite familiar with that feeling,” he replies. The irony of his answer is not lost on me, but I continue regardless.
“I think Beckett is better off living this amazing life that he’s created for himself.
He doesn’t need a People magazine spread.
And certainly not one that amplifies a week we had on vacation over two years ago, you know?
That would do nothing but hurt his relationship with Analise.
It’s almost like bad press for him, if we clear the air to the entire world and say what, exactly?
That we fell in love in Aruba and ended up each writing a book about it, but in a very different way?
Nobody wants to hear that. They want to hear about Analise’s wedding dress or how many carats her diamond is.
They want the male romance author to have a whirlwind romance with the lead singer of the mega-famous girl band and for them to ride off into the sunset together and make a zillion babies.
Nobody wants to know about the other random rom-com author who fucked it all up for them by getting in the way of that. ”
“Mel? Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you still love him?”
I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.
“Well?”
“I don’t know.” This isn’t exactly true, but it’s pretty humiliating to say that you love someone who is in the active process of achieving wedded bliss with someone else.
“Okay, let’s try it a different way, then. Do you think he still loves you?”
“He said he did. In the rain last night. He said, ‘It’s always been you.’”
“Do you believe him?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, I think it’s a romantic thought. But he has something real. And I was just a vacation fling, you know?”
“Would you write an entire book about someone who was just a vacation fling?”
I shrug, even though Evan can’t see it. “Maybe?”
“I’m going to ask you again, Melody. Are you in love with Beckett Nash? Is that the real reason why you don’t want to go through with the interview?”
“He’s about to get married, Evan.”
He takes a gulp of his coffee. “Okay, say no more.”
“But you’re mad.”
“No, I’m not. I’ll call off the interview for you.”
“Thank you, Evan,” I say.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to be. I understand where you’re coming from. You’re not just my author, Melody. You’re my friend first. I’ll never force you to do something that makes you uncomfortable. Even if it could save your career.”
“I don’t know that there’s much left worth saving.”
“Oh, Mel,” he sighs. “You’re right about a lot of things, but this is one area where you’re wrong. I know that losing your mom was horrible, but there’s so much of her in you still. You’re an artist, whether you want to be or not. It’s in your bones.”
“I had the hardest time coming up with my last few books though, Ev. The universe really hasn’t given me much material to work with lately.”
“Give life a chance to surprise you. You never know what’s waiting just around the corner.”
I smile. “Are we okay?”
“Always,” he assures me.
“I love you.”
“Love you more,” he replies.