"What do you think about?" The dangerous waters got higher as a wave washed over me, choking me.
He sighed. "Things." He stared at my hand. "What's that?"
He thought he was changing the subject. He wasn't.
"This fell right at my feet today."
"You're collecting leaves now?"
"Just this one. It's a golden leaf. Used to be a glossy green once. It turned."
"Are you asking me when I'm leaving?"
"I'm asking you if you're leaving."
"Yes."
I shut my eyes tightly, hoping it would hold the tears back.
He took my hand, squeezing it, running his thumb against my palm. "Billie, I can have that conversation with you and tell you all those things to try to make this better, but it would sound like excuses. The bottom line is that I'm not cut out to stay in one place. I'm not cut out for … " He looked at me, struggling for the words, but he left the sentence, much like our relationship, incomplete. "Forgive me."
"When?"
"Four days."
Four days? I suddenly hated the number four. Loathed it. Despised it. Wanted to strike it from the English language, and all numerical computation.
I squeezed his hand back. I told myself not to hold it against him. He'd given me ample warnings. He cupped my face, wiping the tear that escaped with his thumb. I wanted to ask him a millions questions, but this wasn't the right time. He didn't think he deserved happiness. I knew what I had to do-prove Evan Wright was very, very wrong.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I cracked the door a tiny inch so I could peer through it.
"We shouldn't be spying," Evan said.
"Shhh … I want to see her reaction."
It was an hour before bar opening. I'd wrapped white twinkling lights to the ceiling and made sure everything was shiny.
"What are we doing here, Mike? Please don't tell me someone called in and we have to work," Tilla said as they entered. She'd done her hair differently and wore makeup. I hoped he'd told her she looked beautiful. It made my heart sigh. "The lights are nice."
"Every star shines for you."
She gave him a demure glance over her shoulder. "Okay, what's going on, Casanova?"
"Your gift is here," he said, not taking his eyes off her.
He guided her to the corner where the jukebox stood, all lit up with a big red bow adorning it.
"You got this for the bar. It's beautiful." There was a bit of disappointment in her voice.
"Unwrap it."
She pulled the ribbon. Mike caught the silver rattle before it hit the floor. He shook it before handing it to her.
"A rattle?"
"That's not for you."
"Are you saying you want to have a baby?"
Wow, I didn't know that was going to happen.
"We can't. The bar and-"
"Sweetheart, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you and I can do anything, as long as we're together."
She hugged him. I closed the door. I shouldn't be spying. Evan smiled at me and patted his lap. Although things were difficult between us, my body always yearned to be close to his. I sat there and he wrapped his arms around me. The music started.
Evan tilted his head. "This is their song."
"Every song in the jukebox is their song. Mike picked out all the music."
"Was that your idea?"
"No, we brainstormed. I suggested the jukebox because Tilla wanted one for the bar. He came up with the idea for hand-picking every song. He said whenever someone played a selection, he wanted it dedicated to her."
Evan whistled. "Mike did good."
He kissed my temple. I should push him away. I should pull him closer. Why wouldn't my brain, heart and body be on the same page for once?
"I wonder where he's taking her," I said.
"To the same French restaurant."
"Is he going to order the right bottle of wine?"
"Yeah, the expensive one, and he can afford it this time."
"Did you help with that?"
Evan shrugged. "I made the suggestion."
The music ended. The creak of the front door sounded. I crept back to the interior door, opening it slightly just in time to hear Tilla's gasp. Actually, her gasp was so loud, I would have heard it either way.
"You got us a limo? I love it."
I couldn't hear Mike's reply.
"Did you help with that too?" I asked Evan.
"No, I thought it was you."
"It must have been Mike's idea." Evan laughed. "What's so funny?"
"Either that or they just stole someone's limo."
"No, I'm sure … shit, if that happened … "
"They'd have a great story to tell."
"They might go to jail."
"Tilla's dad would bail them out."
"And hold it over Mike's head."
Evan shrugged. "You worry too much. Let's go to work."
He held open the door, and I ducked under his arm.
Evan only played one song tonight. Counting Stars … not One Republic's version but one by this band called Sugarcult. I'd never heard it before. But the intense way he sang the words stayed with me the whole night.
Patrons made requests but the only other performance he gave was when he threw the bottles up in the air. If someone wanted to hear a song, they had to settle for the jukebox.
At the end of the night, we cleaned up as we usually did. We'd gotten good at it. He automatically took out the garbage and stacked the chairs. I swept and mopped.
I polished off all the fingerprints on Tilla's gift. "Why don't you play us something, Billie Marie?" Evan asked, as he put in quarters.
Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve seemed fitting. It mirrored my feelings. I took his hand. We didn't talk. He pulled me against his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck.
"I love you," I said.
"Billie-" His voice sounded like a faraway whisper.
"I do."
"I can't stay here."
"I'll go with you."
He pulled back. "That won't work. Don't do this, Billie. I told you from the beginning."
"Things changed, Evan. For both of us. Are you telling me I'm like all the other girls?"
"You're not like anyone else I've ever met, but that's not the point."
"Yes, it is. I have a passport. I can write during the day and we'll have our nights."
"Your life is here."
"I'll stay here until Marley has the baby and then I'll meet up with you."
"Billie-"
I cut him off. I only had the courage to say this once. "I'll miss them but my family would understand. It's not as I won't see them again."
"No."
I ignored it. I pretended that he didn't say it. My face remained frozen in its forced state of confidence. He swallowed, heading for the bar.
"Do you not love me?" I hated the question. I hated the way he looked at me … full of remorse with a hint of reproach. "I know you do, but I would really appreciate if you could answer the question."
"I need a drink."
He took out a bottle of tequila, stared at it for minute before putting it away and taking out a bottle of wine instead. He poured two glasses and gestured for me to sit.
Time to release my inner thorn. "Answer the question."
"Isn't this what you do, Billie? Didn't you tell me you imagine things to be something they're not?"
A hard shot of anger with a mixer of humiliation stung my throat. "Don't patronize me. I didn't imagine us. Answer the question."
A painful expression flickered on his face, as if I had really struck him with a torn. He tipped the glass, emptying it. His fingers shook as he slammed it down, the action just an octave below a shatter.
"You're really doing this? You're using our wine or truth game to avoid this question?"
He narrowed his eyes. "You saw me drinking, didn't you?"
I marched to the table, slamming my fist on it with such strength some of the wine sloshed out of the glass he'd poured for me. My hand would hurt later. He reached for it but stopped himself. He always stopped himself at that last crucial moment. I wouldn't let this go.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded.
"Too much to fix." That phrase sounded familiar. I had said that to him once, a long time ago when he'd been nothing more than the guy who made my heart beat really fast, not the man he was now who owned that heart.
"I don't want your cryptic answers. I won't settle for them. Not this time."
"What do you want from me?"
"I get what this is. You're frightened. You don't want to love me because you might lose me. I saw that in your eyes when we were surfing that day. I saw your fear. But that's not living, Evan. You try to be aloof and cover those vulnerable parts of you, but I saw them all the same. Maybe in flashes and sparks at odd times during the past few months, but they were clear to me. You showed them to me. You've spent ten years in mourning. It's time to start living again."