23. Garrett
23
Garrett
“ W hat do you mean the money got sent back. Is the account closed?” I ask Denton, my accountant, as I wait in line at Love is Brewing. They’ve updated their menu to include fall drinks, so people are taking roughly twice as long to decide on their order only to inevitably buy a pumpkin spice latte. It’s good, it just shouldn’t be a decision that takes someone three or more minutes to make.
“No, it was sent back. I checked to see if there were any abnormal explanations, but everything checked out. I was calling to see if the payments need to stop.”
“Try to send it again in a few days,” I instruct. There’s an off chance that Lana sent it back on a whim and will regret returning the money. It’s happened one time before, when I called to check she gave me a long waxing lecture on pride and how she doesn’t need my hand outs. That lasted about forty-eight hours before an inbox full of missed calls saying it was a joke, and I should have sent it again. That I should have known. This time I’m hoping I can skip the calls altogether. “Anything else I need to be aware of?”
The line moves another foot forward but the couple at the counter is starting to point to each menu item, so I still have plenty of time.
“That’s all.”
“Thanks for letting me know about the issue. If anything else happens let me know,” I say, despite hoping there won’t be another call anytime soon.
I don’t like the feeling of having the money back in my possession. It makes things feel unbalanced. Things will never be steady with Lana. Blame and blistering bitterness. Those aren’t emotions that provide a reliable foundation. Money and the deal we’ve made, it’s an attempt at something close to normal. Whatever the fuck that means.
When I reach the front of the line, the frazzled barista looks relieved I know my order. I get a drink for Eve too. Her light was on until two in the morning, and I want to check on her. It’s odd seeing her like this. When I learned she was Lyla she didn’t seem to care. I fix things. It’s what I’m good at. But I’m not sure I can fix this.
I open the chess app on my phone and start a game against a computer as I wait for the drinks at the end of the bar. I sink my concentration into it and find a moment of calm until the barista calls my name, and I slot the drinks into a carrier and head toward the door.
Just as I reach for the door, it pushes inward and I’m face to face with a startled Quinn.
“Oh hey,” she says as she brushes off our near collision and claims a spot at the back of the line.
I eye the door. If only the line hadn’t been slowed down by indecisive pumpkin lovers, I might have been able to skip this interaction all together. “Hey. No Oliver?”
“He’s working. We both can do what we need remotely, but he’s on deadline for the software he’s working on,” Quinn explains as she eyes the drink carrier in my hand.
I nod. “How long are you two staying in town?”
“If Ev asks us to leave, we’ll go.” Her lips tighten into a thin line.
“She won’t,” I say. I know Evelyn, she’d rather suffer in silence than turn away her friends.
“You’re right, but this is me letting you know she has that option.”
“And if she doesn’t ask you to leave?”
“We’re hoping to stick around for her birthday. We’ve celebrated it with her since we met so I guess it’s worth it for tradition's sake,” she explains.
I nod as I take in the information. Her birthday is on the 12th, two weeks away. “I’ll let her know.”
Quinn starts to turn away then shifts her attention back to me, as if remembering to share something. “You know, I’m impressed with how okay you seem to be with all of this. Not every guy would be chill with their girl's ex-fiancé coming into town, even if he was in a new relationship.”
“Ex-fiancé?” The word slips out with all my confusion before I can bottle it up. I knew they were together for years, but not on that level.
She sighs. “Shit. I would have thought she’d have told you. I mean, at least after last night. I should have guessed, though. Oliver was the one who told me about it, I had to wait a month before she even mentioned it,” she says apprehensively. “She’s always had this way of talking to people, making sure you feel seen and heard and then you leave a conversation and realize you barely learned anything new about her. Like she doesn’t think she’s significant enough to matter. I’ve always thought it had to do with growing up around you guys. You know the fame, secrets, and all that.”
“Knowing doesn’t change anything for me.” Doesn’t change that this isn’t real so either way I have no right to feel jealous. I do, though, the feeling clawing at my chest, demanding to be acknowledged. But I can pretend I don’t at least until I finish this conversation.
“There are things she’ll never share, but I’ve come to terms with it.” An unreadable expression flickers across her face. “You might have to, too.”
Quinn steps forward in line and gives me one last glance. “I guess I’ll see you tonight. Could you have her send us the details when you get the chance? I haven’t heard from her since last night.”
“I’ll make sure to remind her,” I say, playing along with the promise Evelyn made yesterday.
As I leave, I give Quinn a quick attempt at a wave with a drink in my hand. I take the walk to Evelyn’s as an opportunity to roll over the new knowledge in my mind. Evelyn was engaged. From the timeline that she’s told me and from what I’ve seen on social media it was three years ago, but that’s still a significant event to just brush over. What else isn’t she telling me?
Evelyn opens the door a minute or so after I knock. She’s yawning as she takes me in. Using the heel of her hand she rubs the sleep from her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. The corners of her mouth drag downward with concern. “Did you get called back to the city?”
“Why would I be leaving?”
“You showed up in person with the gift of matcha. It’s ominous.”
“Me being nice is ominous? That’s concerning to hear. But no, this isn’t apology matcha and I’m not going back early. I’m still here to help you fake it for your ex-fiancé,” I say and I immediately wish I went about it a different way. I thought she trusted me. It hurts that I was wrong.
She flinches. “I don’t remember telling you that.”
“I ran into Quinn,” I explain. I could have tried to get it out of her more naturally, less accusatory, but I don’t want to have to play a game to make it feel like it was her choice to divulge information I already know.
“All right.”
“You could tell me about it.”
“It seems like you’re caught up. Is there anything else you need?” Her voice manages to walk the line between charming and guarded. If I wasn’t in the position that I am I’d take it as an opportunity to walk away.
“Evelyn, if you want me to help you, if we’re actually a team, it would be nice to know I’m not flying blind.”
She mulls over my request for a moment. Her eyes dart between me and the drinks I’m carrying.
“Fine, come in, but only because you brought me a drink,” she says dismissively and moves from the door to let me in. “It’s not like it’s a big, crazy story or anything.”
We move inside to the living room. Her body folds into the corner of the couch while I settle into the armchair that’s positioned between her piano and the fireplace.
“What’s the story then, if it’s not big and crazy?”
“It really isn’t a big deal,” she bites out.
“How is it that you being engaged is not a big deal? It seems like the exact type of thing you’d care about,” I press. It feels like a thumb digging into a fading bruise. Hartsfall is the rawest part of me. I just thought she was sharing those parts of herself too.
“It was only for forty-eight hours. I’m not sure it counts.” A self-deprecating chuckle cracks out of her. “I didn’t tell anyone until Quinn. Even then, I almost didn’t. It’s like if we pretended it didn’t happen, we could just move on. We treated the whole break up that way. We talked about it enough to make sure we were still friends and just moved on.”
“And how is that working out for you?” I ask, not fully managing to contain my hurt.
“He seems happy,” she explains, avoiding my question.
“I didn’t ask about him. I asked about you.”
“I came to this town because the last time I was able to write good music was when I was with him. So that’s how I’m doing. Not great.” She glares at me. “Is that what you want me to say? Do you want me to admit I feel like a fucking failure whenever I think about how I walked away from Oliver to pursue something I’m not good at anymore? There are so many times when I think about that ring and wonder if I screwed everything up on a whim. Can you blame me for not wanting you to see me that way? I like the way you look at me. I don’t want to give you a reason to look away.” Her face is flushed pink with shame and frustration.
“I’m looking at you now.” When am I not looking? When am I not wanting more of her?
“How long will that last? When will you get tired and turn away?” she asks like it’s a foregone conclusion. I’ve spent years wanting her. This might complicate a few things, but it doesn’t change what matters. And what matters is her. Hell. It’s always her.
“I’m here, Evelyn,” I tell her. “I see you and I’m not looking away.”
Not now. Not ever. I watch as her features shift, softening as she accepts that I mean it. She’s not losing me over this.
Her chest heaves as she takes a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“Are you doing all right? I mean, you still love him and he’s with your best friend” I ask, not sure I want the answer. But I need to know.
“I don’t love him anymore, not like that. I care about him, so yes, if he’s happy with Quinn, I’m happy for them,” she says with fierce adamancy. “He'll always be important to me, but at the end of our relationship I started feeling lost and I’ve been trying so hard to find myself again. Anything else you need to know to make sure you have a clear picture of everything?”
“That’s it,” I say, feeling unsteady with a relief that shouldn’t matter. Even if she doesn’t love him, that doesn’t change who we are to each other.
“Good. Then can you go? I need to check and see if I can edit my reservation for the pottery class I had scheduled for us,” Evelyn says as she gets up from the couch and grabs her phone from the side table and walks away.