"I was going to put everything on the dining table, but now I'm worried it will all be cold by then. So why don't we just dish up in here and eat in the living room?" she suggested.
"Sounds great," I agreed, pouring myself a glass of white wine as Everly handed Sarah the first plate and instructed her to dig in. As I looked over everything Everly had made, I realized what a talent she had. I'd known that first night, when I watched her turn the few scraps of food in my kitchen into a five-star meal, that she had potential, but gazing out over the counter now, I saw what an amazing gift she had.
"Have you ever thought about cooking professionally?" I asked as I took a plate from the counter and began dishing up chicken tetrazzini, homemade lasagna, and garlic knots.
"Sometimes, but I have the coffee house," she shrugged.
"You'll never get her to leave that coffee house," Sarah said. "She loves it there."
"Well, as long as she's doing something she enjoys." Her eyes met mine and she smiled warmly.
"But don't you think she should be doing more?" Sarah asked as we took our plates out to the living room. Her inquisitive gaze followed me as I sat on the floor in front of the coffee table next to Everly.
"She's trying to bait you, August."
"Everly and I may have made amends, but that doesn't mean I'm sold on you yet," Sarah admitted.
I shrugged, unfazed. "I get that. And honestly, it's not really up to me what Everly does with her life. If the coffee house makes her happy-then she should do that until it doesn't. I'm not that guy anymore. Hell, I'm not even employed. I have no right to tell anyone what to do with their life, when I'm not doing shit with my own. I won't bully her-now or ever."
She didn't respond, but her silence gave me a sliver of hope.
Sarah and Everly spent dinner playing catch up. I listened as they spoke about their jobs, lives, and Tabitha. Sarah loved her life in the spotlight, but it was exhausting.
"You don't even want to see my feet," she said in regard to the brutal schedule she was forced to keep.
"I never want to see your feet," Everly commented with a grin. "They're nasty."
"Well, it's a miracle I can walk some days."
"Don't you have an understudy?" I asked. Both women looked at me like I'd said a bad word.
"What?"
"Sarah hates her understudy-with a passion, and has sworn she'll never take the stage in her place."
"Is there a reason? Or is it beyond my realm of understanding as a dude?" I asked, pulling apart a garlic knot to gather up some of the incredible marinara sauce from the lasagna.
"Yes, but it's complicated. It's an old rivalry. Just dance drama." She shrugged as she pushed around a bit of leftover pasta on her plate.
"Even I don't understand it," Everly chimed in.
"But you support the hatred, because-"
"That's what best friends do," they said in union .
"Got it." I held my hands up in surrender.
"Whatever happened to the mystery man you were dating?" Everly asked as she began to gather plates from our feast.
"He's around," Sarah answered vaguely, a smug smile pulling at her lips.
"Why are you being so secretive?"
"I just don't want to screw it up," she confessed. Her fingers played at the rim of her empty wine glass. "He's kind of perfect and I've never felt like this."
"And you think by telling me, that it will end?"
"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I just like having him to myself. When we start involving friends and"-she made a gagging sound, before continuing-"family, I want to know this is real. And good."
"Take it from me, Sarah. It will never be real until you stop hiding."
She looked up at us, taking a big breath, but just shook her head.
"It's different. I can't explain how-it just is."
"Okay, well-I'll be here for you-whenever you're ready to show this man off. He is real, right? I mean, it is a real live person?" Everly joked, and laughter followed. Sarah stuck out her tongue, which only made the laughter boom louder.
"Very funny," Sarah said. "Yes, he's real. Wait. Blow-up dolls count, right?" she giggled.
I collected the plates for everyone and headed for the kitchen. The sound of their happy reunion followed me and I felt overwhelming joy for Everly.
It was good to see her relaxed and carefree with her best friend. I never wanted her to feel apart from any aspect of her life because she'd chosen me.
I never wanted her to regret me.
Because I know I'd never regret her.
"I've got a couple more dishes for you," Sarah said as she entered the kitchen behind me.
"Thanks. You can just put them there," I said, pointing at the countertop next to the sink, "And I'll take care of them in a minute."
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you alone, if you had a chance."
"Sure," I answered, placing the empty wine glass I was washing in the sink to give her my full attention.
"I came here tonight prepared to drag Everly out of here by my fists if needed."
"You know I'd fight you for her," I smiled.
"I realize that. I'm willing to give you a trial period," she explained, her arms curved tightly across her chest.
"A trial period?" I repeated. I shifted to one side and leaned against the counter, hoping to gauge where this conversation might take me. I understood her fierceness-her need to protect her friend. But I wouldn't back down.
"I've been Everly's friend for two years. I was with her when she picked her life off the damned concrete and put it back together. To this day, there is still shit she won't tell me about what went on in this house. All I know is you were one fucked up son of a bitch."
Flinching at her harsh words, I interrupted her. Each word could have been branded to my chest from the sincerity I put behind each one of them. "I'm not him."
"I'm beginning to see that. But I still don't trust you completely."
"That's fair," I answered, appreciating her honesty.
Taking her time, she slowly dried her hands on a kitchen towel before looking up at me, her expression resolute. "So, take this second chance, August. Make her happy. Give her the best damn life you can, because if anyone deserves it-Everly does. But I swear, if you hurt her-again, I will make sure you never see her again. Do you understand?"
Nodding my head in understanding, I said, "If I hurt her again, I wouldn't expect anything less."
"Good," she replied, tossing the towel onto the counter. "Now Everly sent me in here for cake. Point me in the direction of the chocolate."
I grinned, loving her ability to change directions with little to no fuss, and pointed her toward the massive refrigerator. Opening the refrigerator, she gasped. This was followed by a slew of expletives from the ballerina's mouth.
"I think my understudy may be paying her to destroy me," she nearly cried as she pulled out a massive chocolate cake, nearly the size of Texas.
"No, she just loves you," I chuckled, eyeballing my portion as she set it down on the counter. It was probably the size of the entire gulf coast side of Texas.
I wasn't a ballerina.
"And I love her. More than you could ever imagine. Never forget that."
"I won't," I vowed, looking at her with a steady gaze. "And Sarah, thank you for loving her when I couldn't."
She didn't say a word, but simply nodded.
It wasn't a slam-dunk but over the course of the evening, Sarah and I managed to see eye to eye and I realized we were both batting for the same team. Team Everly.
And that was all that mattered to me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Everly
The crashing waves had once brought a kind of solace to me. The soothing, never ending back and forth cascade of sound was a sure thing-a solid dependable vibrato that lulled me to sleep when I couldn't, eased my distress and cured my anxiety.
But now, it just reminded me of where I was.
As each wave crested, hitting the cliffs below, I was gently reminded of the house that had become my prison.
He'd left me here again.
Doing so had become so regular I didn't even bother asking where he was going.
As our eyes met seconds before he pulled the door shut, I swear I saw an ounce of remorse somewhere in those steely irises of his. But then he pulled back into the darkness and I was left alone.
With no one but myself to blame.
I'd once been a strong woman-someone worth loving. But now, I was nothing but a lifeless shell.
The waves continued to crash outside, making the room feel as small as a sardine can. I wiped a trickle of sweat off my brow as I paced back and forth, trying to wish away the hours until he returned.
Twenty-two.
Number twenty-two. That was how many times he'd locked me in here.
At first, I'd cried and screamed for him as he walked away, begging him to reconsider. What had I done? Why was he doing this?