"She's not mine," I muttered.
"Sorry; you know what I meant. She made me a cup or two that day I visited her. Real nice, very sweet."
"To everyone else," I answered.
"Still giving you the cold shoulder?"
My silence was answer enough for him.
"She just needs time, August."
"Time for what?" I blurted out. "Time to realize I'm not the same guy … because I'm not. I've showed her that over and over, but no matter what I do, I'll always look just like him and that's something I can't change."
"Time," he simply repeated.
Time. Such a funny word for me. It was something I'd lost-so many memories and years gone in a single moment. And yet, here I was with nothing but time stretched out before me to do whatever it was that I chose.
It seemed my entire life always boiled down to that one word.
But what was I holding out for? What would giving things time bring to me at the end of all this with Everly? She'd never be mine … and why did I want her to be? Why did I feel such a pull to this woman I didn't remember?
Looking at the people passing by, I watched them disappear into little boutiques and funky shops. Men would buy their girlfriends and wives tiny trinkets, a necklace or a pretty scarf to remember the special day. If I wandered into one of those shops, I wouldn't know the first thing about Everly-what to get her and what she might like.
And yet, every time she was in a room, I had to be near her.
Why?
Were they feelings left over from a life already lived or did I truly love this woman?
I guess I would never really know.
"Have you seen Magnolia again since I last spoke to you?" Brick asked, pulling my attention away from the busy street.
"Date number three is tonight," I answered.
"So things are going well, then?"
I nodded. "She's beautiful. Nice to talk to. What isn't there to like?"
"Have you slept with her yet?" he asked out of the blue.
"Jesus, Brick." I choked on my coffee. "Give a guy some warning. No-she has one of those five-date rules."
"And you see yourself sticking around until lucky date number five?"
I shrugged. "Yeah, why?"
"Just curious. That's all."
And now, so was I.
What did the good old shrink have up his sleeve?
Chapter Nineteen
Everly
Here's to Sarah and her ballerina twirling, leap-flipping hard work!" I shouted, thrusting my wine glass up in the air as the three of us cheered and toasted my incredibly successful friend.
It had been a long time coming, but we'd eventually figured out a date when all three of us could sit down and have a celebratory dinner in Sarah's honor. The delay was mostly due to Sarah's crazy work schedule, not ours. But we'd figured it out and here we were.
My two favorite people in the world, several bottles of wine and a house full of home-cooked food.
It was marvelous.
"That was horrible," Sarah laughed, covering her mouth with her petite hand. "We really need to work on your understanding of ballet."
I shook my head as I took a large gulp of merlot. "Nope, I'm fine. And that toast was amazing, thank you very much! It was from the heart!"
We all laughed as we settled into dinner. I'd really gone all out this time, making all of Sarah's favorites-even though I knew she'd only eat a bite or two from each.
If that.
She might not be a purger anymore, but she was and always would be a ballerina first. Her weight was paramount to her career and she took it very seriously. Fatty foods were the enemy and only consumed on occasion, and I knew she would be spending tomorrow in the gym or on the ballet floor working off the extra calories she'd consumed. The fact that she was even drinking tonight meant that it was a special event. Usually she had was Diet Coke, black coffee, or water. It was a dedicated life, and she was dedicated to it one hundred percent.
"You're trying to kill me, Ev," she pouted, looking at the table full of food.
"No, if I was doing that, I would have made a chocolate cheesecake," I grinned.
"You didn't!" she warned, jumping from the table to run to the refrigerator, where I'd hidden the tempting dessert.
"You evil bitch!" I heard her mumble behind the refrigerator door. She reappeared, licking her finger, and I saw her eyes roll back slightly in her head.
Ryan chuckled. "I think her understudy may need to do the next show."
"No," she answered, coming back to the table to pour more wine. "That psycho has been gunning for my spot ever since the first rehearsal. I will be limping onto the stage before I let her have the satisfaction."
Ryan and I looked at each other, our eyes wide with surprise.
Wow, dance drama. Who knew?
"Okay, well … that sounds frightening. Anything else going on at work, babe?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
"I met a guy," she grinned, a goofy happy grin I hadn't seen in ages. Not since she'd dated a short-term coworker of mine who'd turned out to be married. That didn't end well.
It did explain why he never saw her outside of work, though. I always thought that was strange and slightly awkward. The rest of us at the shop never knew what we'd be walking into when going for supplies in the stockroom. She thought he was just scared of commitment-turns out she wasn't far off the mark there.
"Who is he? I must know everything!" I said, demanding the details every best friend must have.
"I actually don't want to say quite yet," she explained. "It's really new and different … and I don't want to jinx it."
"So you're just going to announce that you have this new guy in your life that makes you all gushy and weird and then what? Nothing? What's with that?"
"Come on, Ev, give her some slack-she'll come around when she's ready."
"I will," she agreed, turning her head to his in agreement. "I just want it to be real before I tell you anything."
When did they become so chummy?
"Okay, I can live with that," I said resignedly, taking a bit of risotto from my overfilled plate.
"Besides, I want to talk about you," she continued. "I've been so busy with my performance schedule that I feel like we haven't had any time to talk about everything that's been going on with you."
I looked up at her, not really knowing what to say. The time I spent with August felt private somehow. We were reliving past memories. I was sharing a part of myself with him, a piece of me I'd buried away. It wasn't something I really wanted to discuss over dinner and wine with my best friend and fiancé.
"I don't really know what to say," I answered awkwardly, taking a sip from my glass.
"I know it must have been difficult-spending all that time with him. Why do you keep doing it?" she asked, rather bluntly.
I opened my mouth to answer, but found no words.
I didn't really know why I kept going, other than the fact that I just did. I felt some string pulling me toward him, linking us together, and until I figured out how to cut it loose, I would continue to go. And I felt strangely protective of that. Why did I need to explain it?
"Honey." She grabbed my hand from across the table. I looked up at her, meeting her warm gaze. Ryan was silent as he watched the exchange. "You know you don't have to do this-any of it. Just walk away. Come back to us and forget all of this nonsense."
I blinked once, and then again, feeling like I was in some sort of staged intervention. Both of them were staring at me with sad, round eyes that were meant to be comforting but offered nothing of the sort.
"No one is forcing me to do anything," I answered, yanking my hand back from hers.
"We know. We just worry that you put too much stock into what this Dr. Abrams said-that this is the only way for you to move on. I think you just need time to adjust, to get used to this new normal. That doesn't have to include August."
Everything she said was lost after the first word left her mouth.
"‘We?'" I asked through my gritted teeth. "Since when are the two of you a we?"
She shot a hesitant glance across to table to Ryan. "Ryan was worried about you," she explained, while Ryan said quietly next to me, "We both were."
"So you just decided to talk about me behind my back?"
Her eyes widened with shock. "Honey-it wasn't like that. We were just concerned."
"So concerned that you didn't think to involve me in these little chats?" I was already rising from my seat, my appetite gone. The need to flee grew by the minute as the room turned into a giant vacuum, sucking all the air right out of its center. I couldn't stand it-the thought of the two of them talking about me, like I was some weak little child.
I was not weak.
I was not powerless.
And I was not going to stand here for one more second.
"I need air," I managed to say, before I grabbed my keys and purse off the table.