Chapter 15
Kat
It’s memories that hold me back,
The visions of yesterday.
Back when we were so happy,
And our faith did not yet stray.
“ T hanks for meeting me here.”
“No problem,” Jake responds with a charming smile as he sits down across the booth.
We’re back at Brew Madison and not the café closer to Jake’s place. It’s “my place,” but it feels different. Everything feels a bit different now. Nothing feels like it did once; that feeling of being home isn’t the same without Evan.
“Tired of the chai?” he asks, and I have to laugh.
“No, it’s just that Jules, my friend who I’m staying with for a bit, wanted to meet across the street after we’re done, so I asked her driver bring me here.”
“Ah, gotcha. What are you guys going to do?” His question is casual as he looks up at the menu across the wall. It’s a large black chalkboard with all their drinks written in elegant flowing script. I’m pretty sure it’s not actually handwritten, but I could be wrong.
“The chai is better at your place,” I tell him and snag my caffeine-free pumpkin spice coffee from off the small table. Apparently, Maddie’s tastes have rubbed off on me. Either that or the baby has ruined my taste buds and given me a temporary sweet tooth.
He chuckles as I take a large gulp then tell him, “I think we’re getting dinner at a little Italian place Jules loves. Or maybe heading to the new bar below the hotel a few blocks over.” I shrug and add, “She hasn’t decided yet, but it’s girls’ night, so we’re doing something.”
He lays his coat over the back of his chair as he stands. “I’m going to go with straight black coffee.”
“Oh?” I ask him. “Is it one of those days?”
“You tell me,” he responds and instantly my smile falls. It’s been a week since Henry died and each day is worse than “one of those days.” They blur together and time has flown by, but somehow, it’s only been a week.
“Give me a sec?” he asks me before leaving, as if he’s checking on my well-being, gripping the back of the chair. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
My fingers play at the edge of my coffee cup. I wore lipstick today and the outline of my lips mars the white rim.
There’s a statistic I read once about how lipstick sales and alcohol sales both go up during depressions, while sales for everything else plummet.
The alcohol … well, you drink when you’re happy and you drink when you’re sad.
The lipstick is because in hard times, we just want to feel special, pretty. We want to feel like we’re worth it. As in, if we look pretty and put together, then maybe we can be.
I need to buy more lipstick, I think.
It only takes a moment of me checking my phone before he’s back with a brighter spirit and the robust smell of fresh black coffee joining him from the cup in his hand. “So, what’s going on?”
“Wow, that was fast,” I say to stall a moment longer.
“I’d rate them an A-plus for the service. I’ll have to admit that,” he answers with a pleasant smile.
I give him a soft one in return, but I can feel it breaking down as I try to formulate an answer to his question.
“Evan’s father died.” The truth rushes out and my expression crumples regardless of how hard I’m trying to keep it in place.
“Shit,” Jake murmurs beneath his breath as I desperately work to maintain my composure. “You all right?”
“I’m fine,” I answer in a choked voice, refusing to cry again. “I’m dealing with it. It’s not the first time I’ve lost a family member, but it still hurts.”
“What happened?”
“It was sudden. He had a blood clot that traveled to his lungs.” As I pick up a napkin from the table and blot under my eyes, I remember the doctor’s voice and how calmly he spoke. My lashes graze the napkin as I blink and it comes back black.
“I’m sorry; I’m such a mess,” I tell him, flipping the napkin to the other side and being careful not to smudge my makeup too much.
“Don’t be.” It’s only then that I realize how close he is. He’s so warm. “Evan,” I say, blurting out his name as my tired eyes feel heavy and the need to be held makes my body hot. My fingers itch to lay across Jake’s lap. “I tried to call him and got his voicemail.”
“About his father?” Jake asks, and I find myself leaning closer to him. Jake doesn’t let on that there’s any more tension between us than usual. The air between us has shifted. It’s something closer and vulnerable. Something I should be wary of, but I need it. God, I need it.
I nod once, twisting the little shreds of the napkin I’m destroying in my lap. “The doctor called me. I was my father-in-law’s emergency contact.” My throat tightens yet again and my words are choked, thinking about how I was listed as his daughter in Henry’s phone.
“And Evan?”
“He didn’t answer.”
Jake leans back, putting a bit of distance between us and seems to question whether or not he wants to respond. He takes a heavy breath as if he’s going to, but sips his coffee instead. I study his face as he stares straight ahead.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even be talking about this. I just?—”
“Stop saying you’re sorry, Kat.” Jake turns his head and gazes deep into my eyes as he tells me, “You have nothing to be sorry for, and I don’t understand why anyone would make you feel like you do.”
My breath comes in shorter bursts, my heart beating faster. But all I can think about is how I wish Evan would say those words to me.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I reply, “I am sorry, though.” I don’t know what else to say. It’s just how I feel.
“Well, I’m sorry too. I’m sorry about your father-in-law. And I’m sorry your ex isn’t there for you. I’m sure he’s going through his own things, but it doesn’t seem right that he’s ignoring you like that. He’s got to know it hurts you.”
“He doesn’t feel like my ex most of the time,” I admit to Jake with my eyes focused on my fingers as I continue to shred the napkin.
I’m anxious for Jake’s response. It would lift a weight and burden for someone to understand, and I feel like Jake can. Even if he can’t, I don’t think he’ll judge me. I hope he won’t.
“You’ve been married for years, right?” I nod at his question. “And you only just split?” I nod again to confirm.
“You’re going through a lot, and he’s not even talking to you. I don’t get this guy. I wouldn’t throw you away like that.”
“I don’t think he’s throwing me away so much as putting me to the side while he tries to …” An uneasy sigh slips into the silence when I can’t finish my own thought.
“I read in the papers about what he’s got going on,” Jake says, and I’m forced to look at him, my heart beating slowly as I wait for his judgment. “I don’t get how the two of you fit together, honestly.”
“We have more in common than you’d think.”
“Still have? Or had?” he asks me. Without waiting for a reply, he shakes his head. “Tell me to fuck off if you want,” he offers then closes his eyes and takes a quick sip of coffee. “I’m only here if you want to talk. And if I cross a line?—”
“You’re not crossing any line,” I reassure him and find myself reaching out, letting my hand fall on top of his.
Mostly for fear of him backing away and leaving me with nothing again.
“I don’t talk to anyone else really.” The plea is unsaid, but Jake hears it.
I’m already a burden to my friends. I know I am, even if that’s what friends are for.
The one thing I know, though, is that they’ll remember everything Evan’s done, and they’ll hate him like I do right now for treating me how he has.
Even if they don’t say it. So all of this animosity and worry over him and his actions?
I can’t give it to them. I need someone else. Someone like Jake.
His soothing gaze assesses me and stays on mine as he tells me, “I don’t want you to get upset with me because of an opinion I have when I only know a small fraction of the truth. I know the past goes deeper than that.”
It’s small kindnesses that kill the pain. The tiny bits break down walls, making them crumble all because they hit at just the right spot, at just the right time.
“Just don’t hate me for still loving him,” I whisper.
“I think you still have feelings for him because you haven’t let anyone else in,” he says and leans just a bit closer to me.
If Evan would give me just a little, I wouldn’t be here. The thought flies through my mind as Jake leans forward a bit more, his gorgeous dark green, hazel eyes focused on my lips.
If Evan would only comfort me or let me comfort him, I wouldn’t have even called Jake , I think as I close my eyes and breathe in the masculine scent of Jake’s cologne. The deep forest fragrance fills my lungs as he gently presses his lips against mine.
If Evan really wanted me, if he cared about me … the thought is lost when my hands move to Jake’s hair, my fingers spearing through it as my lips part and Jake deepens the kiss.
The problem is that when my eyes are closed, I picture Evan. It’s his fingers that thread through my hair and cup the back of my head. It’s his lips pressed against mine.
The problem is when I open my eyes, it’s not Evan. No matter how much I want it to be him.
Diary Entry Three
Dear Mom,
I really could use you today. You had such great advice when I was younger.
Evan’s father passed away and I don’t know what to do. I want to be there for him because I love him even though he’s not here for me. But he didn’t want me to be there for him. Not even at the funeral. He hardly looked at me.
Mom, I think he blames me in some way. Or there’s something I don’t know.
I don’t understand it. You know how you told me to be honest with my emotions?
I feel like I’m dying inside. I can’t describe how badly it feels to stand near him and be completely ignored because “hurt” doesn’t do it justice.
It’s an emptiness I don’t know how to fill.
I love him so much, but I cried alone in the car at the funeral. He didn’t hold me. He didn’t talk to me. He only hugged me like he hugged everyone else. Like I was no one special.
I thought for a second he would let me cry in his arms. Or that he would cry in my arms like he did when his mom died. But he didn’t. He just left.
He didn’t need me, Mom. He didn’t need me at all and it feels like I need him just to breathe.
There’s something else too. Something that you might not like. Or I don’t know, maybe you’ll like it now that you know what Evan did.
I kissed someone else.
I can’t help feeling like I’m cheating on Evan.
But if Evan doesn’t want me, it’s okay, right? It doesn’t feel okay. Separated or divorced, I still love Evan.
This guy, his name’s Jake, he treats me like he cares about me. Not that we’ve done anything really. I don’t even know him. I think I want to, though, and that scares me.
My heart belongs to Evan, but there’s someone else who wants to take it.
Seeing Evan at the funeral is what broke me.
I don’t know what to do.
I tell you that a lot, don’t I? That I don’t know what to do. But for the first time, I want to do something. I’m ready for something to change. I know you’d know what to do.
I wish you were here. I miss you. I love you.