Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“So, farm life,” Evelyn asked curiously. “It seems to be treating you well.”
She nodded toward his biceps, pointing out the obvious. He didn’t think about it much. In a town with a population of 456, there wasn’t much opportunity for dating. Still, he had to admit that there were some unintended benefits to life on a working farm.
“Oh.” He laughed. “Yeah. Apparently, hauling giant bags of chicken feed and dog food is a good workout.”
“You definitely have a . . . sort of air about you now.”
“An air?”
“I just mean . . . you seem more relaxed than I remember.”
He nodded. New York, and working at CBS7-T studios, had not always brought out his best self.
But in Hamlin, he had more time to focus on his own interests.
His own hobbies. He had even taken up cooking, considering himself quite the master chef in that regard, to make up for the lack of restaurants in his area.
“It’s been good for me,” he admitted. “It’s given me time to think. Heal, too.”
Her eyes softened. “I’m happy to hear that.”
“And you?” He threw the question back at her. “Now that you’re about to executive produce one of the best live-action musicals for television ever known . . . what’s next?”
“Actually,” she said, chewing on her lower lip a little. “Barry floated the idea of working on a feature film.”
David’s jaw hit the floor. “Evelyn . . .”
“I know.”
“That’s amazing!”
“I know,” she said, her voice squeaking with excitement.
“It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
His mind flashed back to their friendship in high school, all those years in drama club.
All those years together at CBS7-T studios, watching her fight and maneuver to get noticed as a woman, to work her way up the corporate ladder, be treated as an equal.
Evelyn Schwartz was always first one in and last one out.
“I’m happy for you,” he said, choking a bit on the words. He knew how much this meant to her. “No one . . . no one deserves the chance to EP a feature film more than you.”
“Technically—” she smiled softly “—I’d be producing. The roles are a little different in film.”
“Would you have to move to LA?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I think I’d definitely be traveling more.
It would be a musical of The Phantom of the Opera.
I don’t want to get ahead of myself, obviously.
It’s still dependent on the final production of A Christmas Carol, and Barry Peters .
. . But oh my God, David, I’m so close. I’m so close to finally achieving everything I dreamed about when I was little.
Making movies, making stories, putting my work out there.
It seems impossible, but here it is, really happening. ”
He shook his head, astounded. “You are . . . incredible.”
The fire in her eyes returned. She lit up, talking about work.
She was already thinking about who she would cast, her vision for the opening numbers, things she wanted to do in order to modernize the script for a new generation of viewers.
She beamed, all brightness and light, her excitement bubbling over.
And then her phone began ringing in her pocketbook.
Evelyn stopped gabbing and looked down to her bag.
“It’s okay,” he said gently. “Go on and take it.”
Her hand reached for the phone. David settled back in his seat, content to eat while she spoke to whoever, when suddenly she drew her hand away.
“I’m sorry,” she said. David looked up from his pastrami sandwich, and Evelyn began rambling.
“I’m sorry about that night in Ombre,” she said.
“When you told me about the position in Westchester . . . and I shot it down without even thinking about it, without even considering it. And I know you were unhappy, David. I know you hated working at CBS7-T studios and living in Manhattan. I should have . . . I should have made space for you.”
It took him a minute to put the pieces of her apology together.
“Hey,” he said, reaching across the table. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” she said, shaking her head. “I should have—I know I have always put my work first. I know. I just . . . don’t know how to put my work second, in this field, and still be successful.”
It was probably one of the most honest statements she had ever said to him.
And he got it, of course. How difficult it was to succeed in film and television, how much everyone who wanted to be at the top in her field sacrificed.
It was no different than any job in that regard, including medicine.
The problem was, however, their issues had never been about her career.
“It wasn’t about your work, okay?”
“But I left you,” she said.
“Left me?”
“At the restaurant,” she said. “I left you to go plug in a lamp!”
He had forgotten that part.
“Look,” he said seriously. “I never wanted to take your career away from you. I’ve always loved how driven you were, how smart .
. . I admire you, Evelyn. And the truth is, looking back on it, you were right.
We didn’t have enough money to chase both our dreams. One of us needed to sacrifice.
Sometimes that happens in marriage. But I need you to hear this.
I didn’t mind being the one to sacrifice so that you could have your dreams. And I would have spent the rest of my life working in television and living here . . . if that’s what you needed.”
She shifted back in her seat, and he knew the next question she should ask.
Why? Why did you walk out on me? But the truth was, she already knew the answer.
She just couldn’t bring herself to talk about it.
He watched her shut down, her eyes becoming hollow and vacant, when her phone began ringing again in her purse beside her.
All at once, her posture went rigid.
“Are you going to take that?” David asked curiously.
She hesitated before finally coming to a firm conclusion. “No,” she said. “I’m not.”
He could see it was killing her.
When the phone finally stopped, she picked up her fork and returned to eating.
David found his gaze latched on to her. Maybe things had changed in the two years since their separation. He felt this wild flurry of emotions raging through his body, and suddenly, he was running through the highlights reel of their life together.
Her, in high school, gathering up her books at her locker, waiting for him at the end of the hall.
Her, on their wedding night, lying flat on the hotel’s king-size bed, digging into a carton of Chinese food while still wearing her wedding dress because they didn’t have a chance to eat during the reception.
Her, making the bed in the morning, never remembering the socks she left behind . . .
No one would ever understand both his amusement and annoyance regarding the sock graveyard.
But God, he had loved her. Not for anything big or exciting.
Or for the way she looked on their wedding day—a vision of perfection walking down the aisle.
Or some exciting trip they had taken together, glamorous photos shared all over social media.
He had loved her for all those simple, pointless, unappreciated moments that no one else in the world would ever care about.
“Do you remember Summer Stage Festival?” he asked.
Her upper lip edged into a slight smile. “I was so drunk.”
“You were happy,” he corrected her.
“And drunk,” she jested.
“You tried to climb up on the stage . . .”
“You tried to stop me.”
“It was for everyone’s sake,” he admitted. “I had seen you dance previously.”
A charged silence passed between them before she full-on laughed.
He smiled knowingly. That night had been wild.
He had this near perfect vision of her in his mind—arms up in the air, swaying and dancing to the music playing on the stage, the sun setting in behind her.
She was a terrible dancer. She had absolutely no rhythm.
But they were young, and in love . . . and it felt like they would have eternity together.
Like nothing would ever change between them.
And then they lost April. But before that . . .
“We had some good times together, didn’t we?” David asked.
“No,” Evelyn corrected him. “We had a lot of good times together.”
He could see the pain in her eyes, the pain he had caused her . . . and yes, he felt his own pain, too. Because that was what it was like to love, and lose, the other half of your heart.
“Listen, Evelyn—” he began.
And then his phone started ringing.
“Your turn.” Evelyn smiled.
He wanted to ignore it, like she had done for him. At the same time, his mind immediately ran to Leila and the farm. “I’m sorry,” he said, grimacing in her direction. “I hate to do this, but I just recently rescued a pregnant alpaca and I’m worried that she might have gone into early labor.”
“You don’t have to explain it to me, David.”
“Thank you.”
David dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone.
It was not a number he recognized. Still, being responsible for about thirty different types of rescue animals, he decided to take it.
It might have been a vet or one of his orthopedic patients needing a refill on medication.
Instead, a thick British accent came across the line.
“David!” the voice said. “I’m so glad I reached you. This is Jared.”
It took him a minute to realize he was talking to Jared Sparks. David didn’t remember giving the rock star his digits. “Jared,” David said, cupping his hand over one ear to hear him over the noise of the restaurant. “How did you get my number?”
“Oh,” he said casually. “I asked around.”
David imagined that Jared—or rather, his agent—had strong-armed Human Resources into providing his contact information. He glanced up to see Evelyn mouthing the words, “Jared Sparks?”
David nodded and mouthed back, “Yes.”
Evelyn was distraught. “What does he want?”
David shrugged and returned to his phone.
It was hard to understand Jared. Not just because of the noise, and the accent, but because Jared had a tendency to wax poetic on a topic without ever actually getting to the point.
“So, I’m here at this nightclub called Wraith,” he explained.
“And I’m sitting here, if you can picture this now .
. . without a shirt on, right? And there’s this beautiful young man here in charge of the bottle service.
And all I have to do, David, is wave my hand, and there he is, bringing me bottled water on a tiny tray.
Which is quite a thing, innit? Like why would anyone pay a thousand dollars for a bottle of water unless they were desperately insecure or strung out on heroin, right? ”
“Jared,” David interrupted him. “What exactly can I help you with?”
“I’m looking for Evelyn.”
His eyes flitted toward Evelyn. She was hanging on his every word. Quickly, he shifted away from his ex-wife and whispered into the phone. “We’re kind of in the middle of something here, Jared. Is it important?”
“Well, obviously,” Jared said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called.”
David glanced across the table at his ex-wife. “He says it’s important.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes and waved for him to hand the phone over.
“You want me to do what?” she said, her brows lifting to the ceiling.
“You have got to be kidding me. Well, I know it’s in the contract, but .
. . fine! Fine! I’ll do my best to get over there as soon as possible.
” Evelyn scrambled to find a pen from her bag.
Grabbing a napkin, she scribbled down an address.
“Just don’t worry about anything, okay? I’ll be there soon.
Yeah. Whatever.” She clicked off the phone.
David couldn’t help but be curious. “So, what does he want?”
“Candy.”
“Like real candy?” David squinted, unsure. “Or candy as in a euphemism for drugs?”
“Real candy,” Evelyn explained. “In fact, he specifically wants five hundred yellow Starbursts and blue M&M’s only, placed into five different blue gallon-sized freezer bags.
And, because he’s a giant man-child, he wants it brought to him, directly.
He’s at some nightclub on the Lower East Side called Wraith. ”
“Is he serious?”
“It was in his contract,” she said, motioning for the waiter to bring the check.
Moments later, she was pulling out cash and throwing on her coat.
David stood from his seat to see her exit, and a dual instinct rose up inside him.
He had the option to walk away, call it quits, let Evelyn deal with Jared Sparks.
But it bothered him. The thought of his ex-wife, running herself ragged all over Manhattan.
Or maybe there was a part of him that just wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her so quickly. He made up his mind.
David chased after her, catching Evelyn on the sidewalk outside Rothstein’s. She was right in the middle of hailing a cab.
He stepped beside her. “I’m coming with you.”
Evelyn turned, startled. “You . . . you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
She was too stunned to respond, but eventually, Evelyn acquiesced. David crawled into the taxi beside her, and they took off, another adventure waiting in their future together.
He hadn’t quite realized how much he missed this.
He missed her crooked little smile when she laughed.
He missed the way she smelled, the floral shampoo and conditioner she used that lingered on her hair all day.
He missed the dogged determination in her eyes when she was working on a project, and the snarky comments she made when annoyed with some talent.
He missed her so damn much that he had to keep reminding himself it was over.