Chapter Forty-Four Everleigh
Chapter Forty-Four
Everleigh
“Oh shit!” I roll off the sofa onto the floor, scrambling for my shoes and purse with one hand while reaching for my phone with my other. How did I get into such a deep sleep during my nappuccino that I didn’t hear the alarm I set?
In the next breath, I fly out the door and sprint two blocks to work. I’ve never been late. This is so embarrassing. It’s only twenty minutes, but I’m not the employee who runs late.
“Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me,” I say, worming my way through the afternoon rush line.
“Everleigh.”
I stop and glance back. Did I hear my name? My gaze quickly glosses over the people in line. Then I turn and continue toward the counter.
“Dr. Reichart.”
I freeze. It’s Will’s voice, but it can’t be him. When I look over my shoulder, I do a double take at the tall man in a baseball cap, longer hair curling around his ears, beard thick and unkempt.
“Will? Why do you have a beard?”
He strokes it as if he’s forgotten he has one. “Why are you in Key West?”
“Everleigh, where have you been?” Alexandria, my boss, asks me.
“Uh.” I turn toward her. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.” I squeeze around the corner to the back of the counter, place my handbag in a cubby, and don my lime-green apron.
As I package baked goods for Alexandria, my gaze occasionally wanders to Will moving up in the long line. He’s even more ruggedly handsome than he was the last time I saw him, and I didn’t think that was possible. How did he know where to find me? Surely this isn’t a coincidence.
“What can I get ya?” Alexandria says to Will when it’s his turn to order.
“A piece of key lime pie and a green tea.” He looks at me.
With a nervous smile, I tuck my chin and get his tea and pie.
“Is this line for the pies or for Everleigh?” Will asks Alexandria while glancing around the café.
She laughs. “Why would this line be for her?”
Will taps his credit card. “She’s a prodigy. Graduated college when she was twelve. Now she’s a renowned psychiatrist who has won awards and published over seventy-five papers. People come from miles and miles away to see her. They wait for months because she’s the very best at what she does.”
How does he know how many papers I’ve published?
Alexandria snorts. “Who are you? Is this some spoof thing for TikTok?”
“You don’t believe me?” Will slides his wallet back into his pocket.
“No, honey. Sorry. Everleigh was late returning from lunch. I don’t think that’s prodigy behavior.”
I roll my lips together and shrug when he looks at me.
“What time are you off?” he asks.
I glance at my watch. “In three hours.”
“Okay. I’ll be right there waiting.” He nods toward the last café table available by the front window.
“You’re going to wait three hours for me?”
“I am,” he says with his back to me as he makes his way to the table.
“I think you should spend the rest of your shift in the kitchen,” Alexandria says when the line is gone. “That’s where we put the prodigies.”
“Oh. Do I get to help bake?”
“No, dear. There are dishes to be washed.” She blows her wiry black-and-silver hair away from her eyes.
“I see.” I smile. “I can do that.”
“Good to know,” she says with more sarcasm than I’m used to.
By the end of my shift, I’m hot, I’m sweaty, and most of my hair has fallen out of my ponytail. And as promised, Will is waiting for me.
“Is this by chance or by design?” I ask as he holds open the door for me.
“Everleigh, I live in Montana. This is most certainly by design. You wouldn’t return my calls or texts.” He walks beside me as I head toward my house.
“I’ve been busy learning a new job. I realize what you saw there probably looked easy, but it’s not.
Did you see the register? It’s older than I am.
And the four key sticks, so I’m constantly having to just do the math in my head, which is fine because I’m pretty good with math.
But they don’t know that. I’ve made several suggestions, but Alexandria keeps saying, ‘If it ain’t broke, why would I fix it?
’ However, I think that register is broken. ”
“So, I met the woman who’s staying in your Airstream.”
“Yeah? She’s very nice. I told her it didn’t seem fair for me to get a two-bedroom house while she gets an Airstream. I should have finished the barndominium, but . . . the ocean called.”
“The ocean called, huh? Funny, I thought a new job called. Can I ask what happened to Baltimore and Johns Hopkins?”
“Nothing, to my knowledge. I think they’re both still there. So tell me about you. What have you been up to?” I ask as we turn the corner onto my street.
“I’ve been hiking, stargazing, and spending time in solitude. I took a break, and now I’m going to look for a job.”
“That’s nice. What sort of job are you looking for?”
“Everleigh, I’m a firefighter. That’s what I do. Like you’re a psychiatrist.”
“Life is about more than work, Will. You shouldn’t let your profession define you. One day you’ll resent it. I think humans are too complex to do one thing forever.”
“But I like what I do,” he says as I lead the way to the front door of the single-story turquoise house with white shutters and a small yard littered with bird feeders and whimsical metal sculptures.
“Then you’re one of the lucky ones, and that’s what you should do.” I open the door and slip off my white sneakers. “I like my new job. I don’t know if I’ll do it forever, but it’s a nice change of pace.”
He slips off his tennis shoes. “You run a broken register and wash dishes. No offense to everyone else who has that kind of job, but isn’t that an insult to your intelligence?”
I love all the little things he remembers about me.
“Look at this fish tank. Isn’t it amazing?
I hope I don’t kill her fish while I’m here.
” When I glance back at Will, he’s still at the front door, but he’s not looking at the fish; he’s looking at me.
“You’re extra handsome with that beard. It will be a shame when you go back to work and have to shave it. ”
Will makes a poor attempt at smiling before he drops his chin. “Is Dr. Reichart available for some free advice? Or did she not make the trip to Key West?”
When he lifts his head, I fold my hands in front of me and grin. “How can I be of service?”
“I wasn’t with my father when he died. And I know I can’t change it, but I also can’t stop thinking about it, wondering what his last minutes were like. Did he die alone? Was he in pain?” He looks at my hands, and I ease my grip, just like I force my jaw to relax.
But I can’t do anything about my racing heart or the hunger I feel for oxygen. So I count to four on an inhale and eight on the exhale. It doesn’t help this suffocating sensation.
“The fish are cool,” he says, stepping closer and turning his body to face the tank. “Is it weird to have an aquarium this close to the ocean?” He grins at his own musing.
I have always loved Will’s smile. He’s the only man in my life who has made me feel . . . anything. When he glances at me, I look away.
“I wonder how Marie Curie would have felt about fish,” I say.
“Is this a segue into how I killed your bird and didn’t save your house?”
I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing. This is an awkward dance. William Landry is here. Not by accident. He’s here to see me. This is a dream I’ve had since we met eleven years ago. But now I’m unwell.
I’m. Unwell.
Emotion clogs my throat because it’s the first time I’ve let myself say those words, even if just to myself.
“Everleigh—”
“I believe he’s in a better place. Your dad. He’s not thinking about the day he died or who was by his side. I think we torture ourselves over things that don’t matter. We live with regret but die with contentment.”
“What do you regret?” he asks.
I turn my back to him and saunter toward the plants on the windowsill, sticking my finger in the soil to see if they need water.
“I regret my nappuccino today. My boss wasn’t happy that I was late returning from lunch.
I haven’t slept well lately, so my naps have been hard ones to awaken from.
I might need a double shot of espresso next time. ”
“Have you talked to your mom lately?” he asks.
“No, why?” I step into the kitchen and fill a yellow watering can.
“I talked to her yesterday.”
“That was nice of you. I’m sure she appreciated it. So how long are you staying in Key West?” I water the spider fern hanging by the television.
“Depends on how long you need me to stay.”
I force a laugh. “That’s silly. I’m fine. Of course I want you to stay as long as you want, but don’t stay on my account.” My hand shakes as I set the watering can back onto the tiled counter. It’s a small house with bright colors and fun accents like seashell mobiles and beanbag chairs.
“When I was in high school,” he says, “I didn’t make the basketball team.
I thought I’d be a shoo-in because of my height, but apparently my coordination was lacking, probably from the growth spurt over the summer.
Of course, all of my friends made the team.
So when they asked me about it, I said I had to decline the position at the last minute because I was getting my tonsils out.
Then I had to pretend to be sick for several days so my mom would let me stay home.
I packed lunches filled with pudding and yogurt because my friends would’ve questioned my eating regular school lunches.
And I faked having a weak voice for a few days. ” He grins and shakes his head.
I sit on one of the beanbag chairs and pull my knees to my chest.
“To this day, my friends don’t know that I didn’t make the team. And to make matters worse, I actually had to get my tonsils removed my senior year in high school, so I told my friends I was getting my wisdom teeth removed.”
“Do you have your wisdom teeth?” I ask.
“No.” He laughs, sitting in the beanbag chair across from mine. “I got those extracted two years after I graduated, so I didn’t have to make an excuse. But for the record, I was going with an appendectomy.”
I cover my mouth and snort.
“Thank god I didn’t go to college with my high school friends. I was clearly going to run out of body parts to have removed.”
“Liver, kidney, a portion of a lung. Part of your pancreas or intestine. Bone marrow. You could have kept going for a while,” I say.
Will removes his hat and runs his hands through his shaggy hair before lacing his fingers behind his head. “Everleigh, I’m here to help you.”
“I don’t—”
“Just let me speak.”
I deflate and bite my tongue.
“I’m the least qualified person to help you.
” He drops his hands and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“I don’t even know if I can help you. But you were with my father when he died.
And if that messed you up, I’m so incredibly sorry.
I don’t know why you went there, but you did.
And maybe that triggered something from your past. Maybe the loss of your own father. ”
I shake my head. “My father is—”
“He’s dead, Everleigh.”
My jaw clenches as I swallow hard. I have never felt so weak and helpless. After years of pining for this man, trying to impress him, dreaming that one day he’d want to be with me, I can’t believe this is happening. It’s not a dream. It’s a nightmare.
“I’m sorry for the fucking awful comparison.” His brow tightens. “My not making the basketball team is not even close to your growing up without a father.”
I quickly blot the tears from the corners of my eyes.
“I just want you to know that I don’t judge you for pretending you had a life that you didn’t. In fact, I love the world you made up. It’s endearing. And I wish that it were true because . . .” Will pinches the bridge of his nose as his Adam’s apple bobs.
My tears can no longer be gently blotted. They pour out in long streams.
“Not having a father really fucking sucks.” He clears his throat and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.
I push out of the chair and run to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
Then I turn on the faucet to make noise while I grab a towel to hold over my mouth, and I sob harder than I’ve ever sobbed.
I’m embarrassed. Will’s father was dying on my watch, and I imagined it was my father, a father I never met.
I wanted it to be him because he died alone, and no one should die alone.
My career. My friendships. My existence.
It’s all been built on a lie. I don’t even remember when the lie stopped feeling like a lie. It became my reality. My identity.
“Everleigh,” Will says from the other side of the door. “Let me in, baby.”
Baby.
I buckle over and cry harder. In my made-up world, my father called me his baby girl.
Will’s been everything I never had. And now he’s here, trying to make things right and calling me baby.
The term of endearment no longer feels endearing.
It’s a cruel reminder that I’m not well.
It’s his way of easing me off the ledge.
But I’m not his baby. I’m the bane of his existence. A fucking charity case.
After I run out of tears, I wait. There will be more. If only I could collapse all at once. But I can’t. So I’ll break apart, a piece at a time.
I hear the front door click. Will left. Is he giving me space or giving up on me?
I roll to my side, tucking the towel under my head as I stare at the green and white tile. And eventually, I fall asleep.