When I Was Yours(49)

“It’s not a big deal because it’s ancient history.” It’s such a big deal that I could cry right now from just talking about it.

“History can be painful to relive. I know something went down with him, and you’ve never really gotten over it—even though you’d never tell me,” she says pointedly.

“There’s nothing to tell. We were married, and then we weren’t. And I got over it.” I sigh, looking at the wall.

Lying to Casey sucks. I’ve always hated doing it.

But sometimes, you have to protect people from the truth they don’t need to know.

My life is one big, fat lie.

Since the moment I told that first lie ten years ago, I’ve done nothing but lie since. It gets pretty tiring sometimes.

“Sure you got over it,” she scoffs, folding her arms. “So, when was the last time you had a boyfriend again, Evie?”

“Um…”

“Exactly.” She laughs. “Last time you went on a date?”

“Jesus, I don’t know!” I throw my hands up.

“It was five years ago, and it’s the only date I can remember you going on. You only went because it was a double date with Terri, that girl you worked with at the coffee house, and she’d set you up without you knowing. The last boyfriend you had was your husband.”

“He’s not my husband.” Okay, that’s not exactly true. But I’m not telling her that.

Dad knows, but Casey doesn’t need to. I told him after Adam came to see me. I needed someone to talk to. And Dad knows all the sordid history. I know I can trust him, and I can tell him anything without any judgment.

But if I tell Casey, then I’ll have to explain a whole lot of other things that I can’t explain, things she doesn’t need to know.

“Ex-husband. Whatever. But it must have been hard to see him. I might have been young and still sick at the time, but I remember, Evie. I remember how bad it was for you after we left Malibu and moved to San Fran. You were like a ghost for that first year.”

I really don’t want to talk about this.

“Seeing him wasn’t hard, Case. A little weird, yes. Hard, no.” The only thing harder was leaving him in the first place. “Can we stop talking about this now?” I can feel myself starting to crack.

“Why? Because he was the love of your life?”

“No, because I want to watch my show. And he was not the love of my life, FYI.” God, I sound like a teenager.

“Sure. So, you just married some guy you kind of liked when you were eighteen years old?”

“Puppy love. You’ve heard of that. Marrying Adam was a mistake, and I got over it.”

“You’re such a bullshitter. You never got over him.”

“Oh my God!” I blow up. “Yes, I did!”

Sometimes, I feel like I’ve been more of a mother to Casey over the years than a sister. But it’s at times like this when I’m reminded that I’m definitely her sister.

“You keep telling yourself that. But you’ve been acting weird since you saw him, and now, you’re spending your days off on the sofa with Chunky Monkey for company, which is on your face, by the way.”

I touch a hand to my face, and yep, there it is. Ice cream smeared on my cheek. Classy. Lifting my T-shirt—which is actually Adam’s old Rolling Stones T-shirt that I had claimed as mine when we first started dating—I wipe the ice cream from my face.

“Look, what is your problem here, Case? Why the big interrogation about Adam?”

Her face drops, and I instantly feel like shit.

“I’m just worried about you, that’s all,” she says quietly, sounding wounded, making me feel even shitter.

“Case, I’m okay,” I tell her softly, placing my hand on her arm.

I know why she worries. Since Mom died and since her illness, she has this innate fear of losing Dad or me. It can make her thoughts irrational at times, especially when she gets something in her head. She probably thinks that Adam being back in my life is hurting me. And she will have, unintentionally distorted it her head, to it being a way that she could lose me.

“There is nothing to worry about, honey. Adam has nothing to do with anything.” Except that he has something to do with everything. “He’s just someone I used to know.”

I have to stop myself from breaking out in song.

“Just promise me, you’ll talk to me if you need to?”

I brush her hair back off her face. “I promise.”

She stares at me for a long moment.

Then, she picks up her bag and stands. “Okay, well, I’ll see you later.” She bends down and kisses my cheek. “Try not to eat yourself into a coma, okay?”