Chapter Thirty-seven
Elizabeth
“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”
Hamlet
I stood on the porch, hugging my arms around my chest, trying to pull myself together before walking back home.
I’d given Chelsea orders to call her therapist because the one thing I’d learned over the years was that I couldn’t be a one-man rescue operation for her.
She needed professional help, real advice.
I loved her, and she knew I’d come rushing back if she needed me, but we’d just end up drunk and crying all night if I stayed.
I hated what her parents had done to her. I wanted to beg her to cut them both out completely. She’d long ago drop-kicked her dad, but now she was coming to terms with her selfish mom, and it was breaking her heart.
Maybe Chelsea had been right all along, and we were all on a demolition course to destroy each other. Were any of us anything more than patterns? Was her mom destined to take her dad back? Would I always be a codependent doormat?
Would Bas lick his wounds and try again? The agonized look on his face when he realized he’d lost his campaign would haunt me. Now there was a guy who’d believed in love.
I wondered if he still did. Or was he down for the count? If Bas was half the man I hoped he was, he’d don a Kevlar suit and be back by morning, but I wouldn’t blame him if he noped out. It could be hard to love Chelsea, but dammit she was worth it.
I went to message Evan and discovered he’d already headed downtown.
He’d wanted to see the pedestrian mall all covered with snow—weatherman through and through.
I took a gander at the road, coated in ice made worse by the idiots who’d attempted to drive on it.
I pulled my jacket tight and began the chilly walk.
It felt like a ghost town out on the streets. A few cars slowly made their way through the slushy mess, but pedestrians were few and far between. It was a cold, wet holiday. All the smart people were inside, cozy and warm, surrounded by friends and family.
As I was crossing the Downtown Mall, I passed the restaurant where I worked, lit up and loud. I texted Evan to let him know where I’d gone, hoping he’d come find me, then popped in to warm up and say hello to whoever was working.
Inside, the place pumped with the energy of refugees celebrating the holiday together with strangers, and it made me smile. I loved seeing people at their best, laughing, being kind to one another, and I had a huge grin on my face as I walked toward the bar.
And then I saw Evan, holding a chair out for a woman before settling in across from her. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, talking like they were old friends.
Maybe they were. He was from here after all.
Or maybe he’d met her recently. His high profile made him quite the catch. What if he was playing the field? Or God, what if…
I swallowed down a sudden panic. What if he’d been leading me on as retribution, revenge for tricking him that first night.
My mouth filled with sour liquid, and I thought I might throw up.
I wanted to storm over and demand an answer, but I was the emotionally stable one.
I was the one who held everything together, got over other people’s mistakes, and then forgave them, biting back my anger and hurt.
And now, I felt like a bottle about to blow its cork.
“Elizabeth?”
My head swiveled so fast it was like I was on remote control. “Kyan?”
He stood behind the bar, drying a steaming wineglass with a towel. “Everything okay?”
I cut my eyes over to the table where Evan sat, nodding along, brows furrowed. “Do you know who that is?”
Kyan chuckled. “That, my dear, is you.”
“No it’s not, you weirdo. Stop toying with me.”
“Why is it any of your business?”
Ouch. I’d said the exact same thing to Evan before, but it was different then, wasn’t it?
Where was all this jealousy coming from?
We weren’t even technically dating. He wasn’t my boyfriend.
I had no right to demand exclusivity. I’d all but broken up with him on Sunday, and yet somehow in the back of my mind, I hadn’t truly let go.
I’d been rooting for him to prove himself, to pull the tires out of the rut and get us back on the road. Had I been deceiving myself?
No, I hadn’t been. Evan’s December challenge proved he was working extra hard to fix what he’d broken. I had no reason to suspect him of two-timing me. How were we ever going to break this cycle of fear?
Was this how Evan had felt last Saturday night? No wonder he’d been so unhinged. I only needed to ask Evan for a rational explanation, and still, I was lurching for all the worst scenarios.
“Look, you can either tell me, or I can come back there and squeeze lemon all over whatever tattoo you recently got.”
“Ohh, violence.” Kyan’s smile widened, spreading across his whole face. “God, I love it when you’re feisty.”
“I’m not feisty.” I wasn’t. I was dependable, easygoing. “But I swear to god I will set you on fire if you don’t spill it.”
“You might want to point your lighter fluid that way, you psycho, because that’s Evan’s old flame.”
My heart sank as an entire imagined future disintegrated before my eyes.
Kyan was nearly cackling with glee, and I shot him the evil eye. I’d never known him to be outright mean. Did he think he’d have better luck with me if I wasn’t involved with Evan? Or had he always secretly hated me?
I was going to get to the bottom of this. I jumped off my stool, intending to march over and demand Evan clear things up when Kyan said, “No, wait. Don’t interfere. Just sit down. Stay. I’ll make you a drink.”
It really made no difference if I confronted Evan now or later.
The damage was already done, and either he had a good explanation or he didn’t, but I had nowhere else to go, so I reluctantly perched on the opposite side of the bar from usual, staring at the back of Evan’s head, trying to unravel the mystery.