Chapter 28
28
EVE CASSIDY
The memory of my conversation with Foster at the playground and hospital continues to linger days later. We haven’t talked about it at all. I’ve worked a lot of hours since then and lately we’ve just binge-watched comedies and kept our conversation light. I think he meant it when he said I didn’t need to decide anything immediately.
But his words are etched deep into my mind like a haunting presence. It’s hard to determine if it’s friendly or horror, but either way, it’s consuming my thoughts. I don’t know how to feel – so I’m letting rum give it a shot. Liquor is truth juice, that always clears things up. Right?
‘Wait, he actually said you were the only girl he’s ever loved?’ Phil’s eyes widen in disbelief as he leans in closer.
‘Yep,’ I confirm, sipping my ‘Hippie Juice’ – a concoction of watermelon vodka, rum, triple sec, and pink lemonade, garnished with fresh strawberries. The drink is not only visually appealing but also dangerously delicious. Usually, I’d regret having one too many. But tonight – my Friday – I need the distraction for my mind and heart.
Phil is keeping me company until Genevieve arrives. Kait is stuck at work and my sister just gave birth to a baby, leaving me with few friends to confide in about this situation.
‘Does he still love you?’ Phil asks, casually sipping his Shirley Temple through luminous white straws.
I shrug, feeling uncertain. ‘He didn’t say. But even if he did, can I trust him? He’s said it before. So has Cayden. Maybe Foster is only feeling things because he’s in my presence again. I don’t know what to believe any more.’
Phil nods sympathetically. ‘I can’t believe you let Cayden live,’ he says, shaking his head in amazement. ‘You’ve got more inner strength than me, sister.’
We share a wickedly evil laugh – as wannabe villains do – then sip our fancy drinks as we sit in our neighborhood bar like we own the place.
The ‘place’ being Glow, a bar that we stumbled upon one night while walking home from another bar. The walls are adorned with vibrant graffiti art done by local professionals and under the black lights, it’s almost mesmerizing. As if that weren’t cool enough, they even provide free glow necklaces and bracelets to add to the ambiance. Of course, both Phil and I are sporting them – his neon pink one wrapped around his forehead like a sweatband or fallen halo, and my neon blue one hugging my neck like a choker. I also have an array of neon yellow, purple, white, and pink bracelets adorning my wrist like a true Taylor Swift fan (which – let’s be real – aren’t we all?).
‘Johnny boy!’ Phil calls out to the bartender, lifting his empty glass and wiggling it in the air. ‘Can I get another, sweetums?’
Johnny flashes his signature wide grin in response to Phil’s theatrics, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously. ‘Coming right up, sugar!’ he calls back, playing along and already expertly mixing another Shirley Temple for Phil with a flourish.
I watch the interaction between the two of them with a smile, feeling grateful for Phil’s presence tonight. He has a way of turning any situation into a comedy sketch, lightening the heavy weight on my heart. But despite the laughter and glittery neon lights surrounding us, I can’t shake off the lingering thoughts of Foster and his unexpected words. ‘Things could be so different this time around.’ Does this mean he wants to try again?
‘You know,’ Phil says, leaning in closer, his voice softening, ‘maybe this is fate giving you a second chance. Foster’s back in town, and he’s laying it all out there. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? For him to at least try?’
‘Five years ago, yes. That’s exactly what I wanted.’
‘Oh,’ he says, his eyes moving to the front door.
I look over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of movement by the entrance – what he’s looking at. Genevieve is walking in, spotting us immediately and waving. Then my heart stutters in my chest when I see Foster following her. A hesitant smile plays on his lips as he scans the bar, his good hand shoved into his jean pocket. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, it feels like time stands still as everything else fades away.
‘She’s betrayed you and brought him. How can we talk about him now?’
I let out a nervous chuckle, trying to play off the tension in the air. ‘I don’t know?’
‘Well, get ready, because I feel like we’re about to find out,’ Phil replies, his eyes flickering between me and our unexpected guests.
Genevieve and Foster breeze over to the bar, their presence filling our small corner. My heart races as I try to compose myself, taking a deep breath before forcing a smile onto my face.
‘Mind if we join you?’ Genevieve greets us warmly, her gaze sweeping over us as if assessing the atmosphere.
Phil pats the stool next to him, which Gen beelines to, leaving the only empty one to my right. Foster gingerly takes the seat.
‘Jellybean,’ he says with that charming smile that sends a familiar flutter through my chest.
He looks breathtakingly handsome as always, his dark curly hair slightly tousled in a way that makes my heart skip a beat.
‘Candy Corn.’ I acknowledge him with an equally ridiculous nickname, keeping my tone neutral despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside me. My phone chimes on the bar so I glance down at the illuminated screen.
Genevieve
Sorry, I thought I was picking you up and accidentally invited him!
Dang it, Gen. Why didn’t she send me a warning text beforehand? I take a long sip of my drink while the screen dims to black.
‘Sorry if I’m interrupting,’ Foster says in his deep southern accent, sending shivers down my spine. ‘But I was bored – and you’re my only friend in this city.’
I hadn’t thought of it that way. ‘You’re more than welcome,’ I say. ‘We were talking about tennis.’
Phil shakes his head, a clear ‘what the fuck’ look on his face. ‘Basketball,’ he says. ‘Remember that boyfriend you had who loved basketball?’
I nod. I told him the story of Josh? I don’t remember that. Must’ve been one of our wine nights.
‘Basketball and… things,’ he adds, trying to help but clearly uncomfortable with Foster’s presence.
‘Tennis, basketball-playing boyfriends, and things, eh? You sure there were no motorcycle-riding exes in that conversation?’ Foster asks, raising an eyebrow and ordering a Coke instead of a cocktail since he’s on medication and shouldn’t be drinking.
The way Phil shakes his head screams ‘lies’.
Foster leans in closer to me, our shoulders brushing against each other, and I’m hit with his cologne. Christ almighty, I will never make it through this night. I’ve been keeping my distance at the apartment, but I can feel his breath on my neck and goosebumps are quickly overtaking me. ‘Considering we haven’t really talked much in a couple of days, I assume that “thing” is me?’
He shouldn’t be able to read my mind the way he does. ‘Not entirely.’
He smirks.
Genevieve shoots me a quick apologetic glance before turning her attention back to Phil, engaging him in a lively conversation about some new show they both enjoy. It’s like she’s trying to give me space to navigate this unexpected chat with Foster.
‘Did I say too much the other night?’ he asks.
I glance at him, his piercing gaze intent on mine.
‘No, no. It’s not that, I just—’ Taking a deep breath, I decide to be honest. ‘It’s not about what you said,’ I start, the words feeling like a confession. ‘It’s about everything we didn’t say before. The unanswered questions, the unresolved feelings?—’
His eyes flicker with regret and he reaches out tentatively, his hand hovering in the space between us before dropping back to his side. ‘I know I messed up,’ he says earnestly.
‘You did. And then with the Cayden mess, I’ve lost a lot of trust in men over the years.’
‘I get it.’
‘Then there’s the fact that you’re going to leave here eventually. And that’s just one more thing for me to get over.’
He cocks his head, fidgeting with the straw in his drink. ‘ Were you over me?’
I meet his gaze, the glacier-blue depths of his soul searching mine for a hint of the truth. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that I saw back at the hospital when we first talked after he woke up. That rawness tugs at my heartstrings despite my best efforts to remain guarded.
‘I thought I was,’ I admit quietly, swirling the remains of my drink in its glass. The ice clinks softly, punctuating the heavy silence between us. ‘But seeing you again, hearing your voice, taking care of you… it’s stirring up old feelings, Foster. Feelings I thought I’d buried deep.’
His expression softens, a hint of sadness crossing his features. ‘I never stopped thinking about you after you left. Even when I was far away, doing reckless stunts and living like there was no tomorrow, part of me has always longed for you.’
My throat tightens as he speaks, a mix of emotions churning inside me like a violent storm. That’s present-tense longing. Holy everything – he does still love me. I can’t tear my eyes away from his handsome face, even as the alcohol dulls my senses and leaves me at a loss for words. Part of me wants to pour my heart out to him, but another part is afraid of him breaking my heart. Again.
‘Tell me what you’re thinking.’ The words leave his lips like smooth velvet. I can’t help but drop my head, feeling a bit swirly from the drink.
‘I don’t know what I feel,’ I say with a tipsy smile. ‘Getting over you once hurt. I don’t think I can do it again.’
‘I never in a million years meant for things to go topsy-turvy and hurt you in the process.’
‘I know,’ I nod, sipping my drink. ‘Despite that, I was a total wreck. I cried for weeks.’
Half a shy smile creeps up on him. ‘Me too.’
‘You cried? Over me?’
Be. Still. My. Heart. I always assumed he just hopped on to his motorcycle and forgot about me.
‘Sometimes I still do,’ he says, raising a single finger to his lips as if I’m not to tell a soul.
‘Me too,’ I admit. ‘Once a year with your stupid anniversary comment, and a lot more since you’ve been here.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, leaning in closer. ‘I wish there were a way to easily know if there are any true unresolved feelings.’
‘Any ideas?’ I swallow hard.
I tilt my head to the side, ready to see if we are thinking the same thing. The rum says we are.
‘I do have one idea.’
‘Lay it on me,’ I say, ready to figure this out.
‘A single kiss. No tongue. Sweet. Just to test our hearts.’
‘So, it’s sort of like a science experiment?’
‘If that helps you, yes.’
‘Alright,’ I say. ‘We deserve to at least know, right?’
‘Right,’ he agrees, leaning into me.
‘How should we do it? Count down? Ready, set, go? Or just do?—’
As his lips meet mine mid-word, electricity courses through my veins. The slight brush of his fingers against my neck would bring me to the ground if I weren’t already sitting. His lips are exactly as soft as I remember, and he tastes of the Coke he’s been drinking, as well as cool mint Listerine. An overwhelming fluttering in my chest grows, nearly taking my breath away. My God – I never felt this with Cayden. Ever. I think these are feelings.
Gen’s voice cuts through the chatter of the bar. ‘Heeey,’ she says in a sing-song voice, leaning over the bar and peering around Phil.
‘Earth to Eve,’ Phil says, jabbing my ribs hard enough that I pull away from Foster and glare back at them. ‘As fun as that looks – what are you doing?’ he asks under his breath.
Genevieve approaches my bar-stool. ‘I need to use the little girls’ room, wanna join me?’
It’s a subtle question, but I know all too well it’s code for ‘follow me now’.
‘Sure,’ I reply with a coy smile, darting a glance at Foster who nods in understanding. ‘I guess I’ll be right back.’
Turning away from him, I follow Gen through the crowded bar, weaving between bodies and dodging spilled drinks. But all I can think about is how sweet he tasted and what that kiss just did to my insides – head, heart, and loins.
With a sly grin, Gen leads me into the women’s restroom, shutting the door behind us and leaning against it.
‘A kiss?’ she asks, lifting her palms to the sky. ‘What brought that on?’
I touch my lips, noticing I need to touch up my lipstick in the mirror. ‘A test,’ I say, pulling the tube from my purse.
‘Pop quiz, huh?’ she asks, shaking her head.
‘He thought it might reveal if we had any feelings left between us. I dunno, it just happened.’
‘And…?’ she asks, tapping her toe on the floor.
‘It was so so good.’ I swoon, popping the cap back onto the lipstick tube once my lips are sufficiently painted, and sliding it into my purse.
‘As good as before?’
I shake my head. ‘Better.’ I haven’t felt like this since I was a kid on Christmas Eve. I want to run back into that bar, hop onto that man, and ride him home. But I won’t, because I’m a lady.
‘Wanna hear what I think?’ Gen asks.
‘Probably not.’
She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘I like him,’ she says with a wistful smile, her features softening.
‘You know he’s gay, right?’ I ask with a raised eyebrow, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Her expression turns contemplative as she gazes at me through the reflection. ‘Not Phil – Foster .’
Foster! Duh. Hello, rum. I pause, taken aback by her statement. ‘But you barely know him.’
‘We’ve been talking about the guy for five years, so I sort of feel like I do. Now witnessing you two together, while he’s conscious, I can see the potential for something amazing between you.’
Her words linger in the air, causing my heart to flutter with possibility. My mind is racing with thoughts of Foster and the chemistry that seems to crackle between us whenever we’re near each other.
‘Perhaps you’re picking up on the intoxicating allure of attraction? We definitely have that.’
Her head shakes with certainty, dismissing the possibility. ‘Nope. You probably won’t be surprised to know that Phil and I have been eavesdropping on your conversation and we agree, he’s completely smitten with you. It’s glaringly obvious. The words pouring from his lips, the way his body leans toward yours, the intensity in his gaze.’ A heavy, longing sigh escapes her lips. ‘It’s the same gaze I ache for from a man, Eve. I truly believe you should listen to your heart.’
I let out an exasperated groan, my hands clutching the edges of the bathroom counter for support. Somehow I knew this was where this was leading.
‘What if I follow my heart, and once again he chooses himself over us? I can’t go through that twice. Fool me once and all that crap.’
‘What’s that old saying? “It’s better to have loved and lost than to never love at all”?’
‘I have loved him. And I lost.’
‘Maybe the timing was off?’ Gen suggests, trying to offer some comfort. ‘I mean, most people don’t meet and get married within a month. Maybe you needed to be older so you could figure out the details.’
Our whirlwind romance flashes in my mind – the spontaneous proposal, the rush to the altar, and now the bitter aftermath. Was it all just too good to be true? And if so, why was that kiss the best one I ever remember having with him, including on our wedding day?
‘Are you suggesting we forget our past like dust in the wind and pretend we don’t live on opposite ends of the country? That I once again play the role of lonely housewife while he chases his dreams?’
Gen furrows her perfectly arched brows, her expression conveying a mix of pity and disbelief. It’s as if she thinks I’m the most naive and foolish girl on the planet.
‘You know, people make long-distance relationships work all the time,’ she says in a tone that is both reassuring and patronizing. ‘I have no doubt you’ll figure out the logistics and eventually live happily ever after – but like anything else, it’s going to take some work from both of you. You can’t just expect him to give up his life for you, either. Can you?’
‘No.’
Damn her, being all sensible. Her words hold a glimmer of hope, but my heart feels heavy with doubt and uncertainty.
‘Let me ask you this,’ she says, turning to face me. ‘Do you still love him?’
My heart clenches at the question, the answer obvious yet complicated. In the quiet restroom, with only Gen’s expectant gaze on me, I finally admit, ‘Yes, a part of me will always love him. But love isn’t always enough, you know? Sometimes careers, distance and life get in the way.’
Gen nods in understanding, her expression softening with empathy. She reaches out and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘Love is messy, complicated and rarely simple – no matter who it is. But don’t let fear keep you from taking a chance on something that could make you truly happy. I see that in you when you’re with him. The day he came into the trauma room, I wondered if you’d be able to keep it together. You looked like you’d seen a ghost. And tonight, when he walked in behind me, you lit up. I’ve never witnessed that in you. Maybe he deserves a second chance.’
The sound of muffled laughter and chatter from outside the restroom seeps through the door, a stark contrast to the intimacy of our conversation. I meet my own gaze in the mirror, searching for clarity amidst the swirl of conflicting emotions within me. Does he?
‘You’re right,’ I say, not thinking it through one bit, just going with my gut. A feeling of determination washes over me. What am I so afraid of? ‘I can’t let fear dictate my choices any more.’
Her hands clap together with a sharp, crisp sound in front of her chest. ‘Now take that handsome boy home and savor every moment while he’s here. Life is too short to waste on things you’ll never get back,’ she says with urgency. Her eyes shine with the wisdom of someone who has learned this lesson the hard way.