Fifteen Vanessa
“Honey, we’re here,” I said, opening the passenger-side door slowly so I wouldn’t startle her.
She didn’t stir. Her face remained peaceful as soft breaths escaped her slightly parted lips.
Seriously?
“Evelyn?” I brushed my thumb along the back of her hand, half-expecting her to flinch, giggle, or swat me away. Nothing.
“Evelyn,” I murmured again, softer this time.
Evelyn had a habit of disappearing into her own head so completely that she might as well have been asleep. She was also a brat when the mood struck her. There was every possibility she was perfectly awake and simply waiting for me to embarrass myself.
Leaning closer, I whispered her name once more before letting out a sigh. If she was awake, she was committed to the act.
Cold air seeped through the open car door into the once-warm interior as I paused, debating whether I’d regret what I was about to do. If I woke her up, she’d be surly—and I wasn’t dealing with her attitude unless I could handle it the way I wanted to.
When she shivered lightly in her sleep without a jacket, the decision was made for me.
I slipped her purse onto my shoulder and retrieved her keys. Then I carefully slid one arm beneath her knees and the other across her back, lifting her into a proper bridal carry.
Evelyn let out a small, contented sigh but didn’t wake.
After setting her purse down, I guided her to her bedroom and eased her onto the mattress. She shifted slightly in her sleep as I pulled the covers over her, nestling deeper into the pillows.
Why she couldn’t have waited fifteen minutes, I wasn’t sure. Quite frankly, she might have fallen asleep solely to get under my skin. Still, it was difficult to remain annoyed when she looked so serene and innocent.
Maybe she wasn’t getting enough sleep. I’d ask her about it sometime.
After carefully shutting her bedroom door and leaving her keys in an obvious spot on the kitchen counter, I headed back downstairs. In the elevator, I pulled out my phone to finalize my plans with my sister for tomorrow. We would go to my favorite café, preferably sometime in the late morning.
“It was a pleasure as always, Nessie.” Elizabeth brought me into an obnoxiously tight embrace, still trying to irritate me after all these years.
“You know I hate it when you call me that. It was cute when you were seven, not twenty-seven.” She pressed a kiss to my cheek.
“I know, Nessie, but I wouldn’t be much of a younger sister if I didn’t annoy you.” She pinched my cheek with a grin, making me frown.
“Okay, goodbye, Lizzie. I have stuff to do.” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms.
I’d listened to enough information about her relationships—if her shenanigans could be classified as such—to last me several years. She trapped me in another hug just when I thought I was free of her nonsense, making me groan as I tried to escape her grip.
“I know. You always do. But I need to keep your life interesting, and I’m always here for you, so keep in touch. Promise?”
“I promise, Lizzie. Now please let me go.”
Satisfied with my answer, she let go.
“Bye, Nessie-Ness.” She patted my head with each word while dodging my attempts to pinch her arm. With a satisfied grin, she walked off, blowing me an air kiss.
I stayed for a bit longer. Checking my phone for work emails, I was relieved to see a text from Evelyn.
I came into work Monday morning, dropping a croissant on Evelyn’s desk before heading to my office—only to be bothered by Lillian barging in moments later.
“Lillian, you couldn’t knock, because...?” I snapped.
“Good morning to you too.” She shook out her sleek black hair, ignoring me.
“What do you need?” I narrowed my eyes.
“I just wanted to see you, dear. Is that a problem?”
“No. You obviously have something to say, so spit it out.”
“Well, I was hoping for some small talk first—preferably about you going to dinner with Evelyn.” Her brown eyes glowed far too enthusiastically for my liking.
“The restaurant was lovely, it’s a shame you were unwell. Now we both have jobs to attend to, so what exactly is so pressing?”
“It also has to do with Ev. Since you two are so close, I thought you could give me an explanation as to why I was completely disregarded by her this morning.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you. Besides, when did you even speak to Evelyn?”
“Relax, I’m not claiming her. And I said disregarded. We didn’t talk—she brushed past me in the hallway.”
I massaged my temples, deciding it was far too early for her company. “Her unintentionally not noticing you left you so unsettled that you had to come here and bother me?”
“Dear, ignore me if you wish, but I suggest you check in on her.”
The shameless amusement she was taking in our dynamic was seriously beginning to get under my skin.
“Lillian, stop involving yourself in my social choices.” I narrowed my eyes. She had long outstayed her—never-welcomed—welcome.
“Your wish is my command,” she teased, leaving with a grin.
Regardless of my doubt and disinterest in appeasing Lillian, I proceeded to head to Evelyn’s office, still relatively curious after her remarks.
As I neared the door, it swung open, narrowly missing me. We were both surprised, but Evelyn's expression hardened rather quickly. "I'm meeting with Adam now," she stated plainly.
Something in her expression was distant, but I failed to assess her with a simple scan of my eyes as I typically did.
"Of course," I answered curtly, alarms blaring in my mind as my eyes fell upon the croissant, still in its box, at the top of the garbage can. My mind raced with the unsettling possibilities of what was going on. My instincts were telling me it had everything to do with me, and my intuition was consistently accurate. Yet nothing had transpired between us since dinner, and everything had seemed fine. She’d even sent me a thank you text.
She slipped past me without another glance, going out of her way to avoid brushing my shoulder.
I headed back to my office with the same controlled demeanor, as if nothing had happened, but my unease boiled within me, refusing to settle. I could still read her body language enough to understand what she needed, and right now, that was space.
Currently, confronting or pushing her for answers wasn't the way to go about this.
I couldn't afford to let my concern for her seep into my work, even if it had already begun pressing at the edges of my concentration.
There was a reason I'd always kept my professional and personal lives separate, and I had no intention of forgetting it now.
Hopefully, she'd talk to me sooner rather than later, instead of bottling everything up until she inevitably exploded.