“Grow up, Hattie. You’ve made commitments and the Covington’s never go back on their word. You’re going to his family’s house in the Virgin Islands in a week. It’s time to move on. You’ve made your point. Gather your things and go home with Evan.”
“Actually, I’m not going to the Virgin Islands. I exchanged my ticket last night.” I folded my arms across my chest and smiled.
“Exchanged it for what?” My mom’s surprise was evident in her eyes and the rigidness of her spine. If not for her regular Botox injections, her eyebrows would have been hidden beneath the elegant sweep of her light brown hair.
“I’m going to Mexico with Vera.”
“Vera.” My best friend’s name rolled off her tongue like a curse. She never liked Vera. She thought Vera was too expressive and uncouth…whatever that meant. Personally, I attributed her dislike to the fact that Vera’s dad dropped out of politics five years ago, and he didn’t even pretend he cared about his former colleagues or former profession, except my dad. They still played poker once a month in what Vera’s dad deemed a ‘politics free zone.’
“Yes.” I raised one eyebrow. “Is there something wrong with that? Dad was fine with it.” I lied. I didn’t ask him, but he wouldn’t care. He liked Evan, but he wouldn’t interfere. Besides, at my age, I didn’t need parental permission, and I was sick of my mom pretending otherwise. I really needed to find a place to live, because hanging out in my childhood bedroom sucked.
My mom tapped her fingernails on the doorjamb without saying a word, but it didn’t mean my mom wasn’t thinking, calculating, and manipulating facts in her mind. I think her ruthlessness exceeded my dad’s, and that said a lot. “Fine,” she said. “But you will give Evan the respect he deserves and tell him about your plans face to face.”
My eyes narrowed and I wanted to refuse, but I didn’t. I had to face him at some point, and now would work as well as any other day. “Send him up.”
“He’s in the living room.”
No way. I rolled my eyes. My mom wanted to eavesdrop and do damage control if necessary. I didn’t want her to listen and report every detail to my dad. Over the last two weeks, she’d done everything she could think of to force me to reconcile with Evan, except hold a gun to my head. “So.” I shrugged. “I’m sure his legs work.”
She walked away without saying another word.
Five minutes later, Evan walked into my room, his hands buried in the front pockets of his khaki chinos, his face clean shaven, his white dress shirt expertly starched, all tied together with a brown belt and loafers. He might as well have been a mannequin with his utter lack of uniqueness. Why hadn’t I noticed that before?
“Hi,” he said softly as he sat next to me on the edge of the bed.
“Hi.” I tucked my legs beneath my black maxi dress, purposely leaving my toes exposed. I painted my toenails metallic blue yesterday in silent rebellion against Evan. I knew he would hate it, and judging from the direction of his gaze, he had noticed.
Last Easter, I painted them the light blue to match my light blue linen suit. I thought they added a fun flare to my boring suit. Evan didn’t concur. He berated me the entire drive home from the brunch at his parents’ country club. Apparently, he thought they looked tacky and unprofessional. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was nail polish, not a tattoo. I could switch it out easily enough, but now his comment symbolized something bigger—his gamble to control and groom me for a role I no longer wanted. His wife.
“Thanks for seeing me.”
I nodded, unwilling to be the first person to delve into the details of what happened or what it meant for our future. Anger and resentment ricocheted around the room.
“I miss you. When are you coming home?” he inquired, breaking the silence and diving into the heart of our conflict.
“I’m not.”
“Why not?”
I snorted. “Seriously, Evan. I caught you with your hand up some woman’s dress. Do I need to have another reason, because that one seems pretty good to me?”
Evan rubbed the back of his neck. “How can I change your mind? How can I make this better?”
I blew out an exaggerated breath. “Evan, I don’t think you can. I can’t pretend I didn’t see you with that woman. When I look at you, it’s all I see. I don’t know if what happened was a one-time thing, or if it was one of many—”
“Hattie,” he interrupted, claiming my hands, his thumbs coasting along the inside of my wrists. “I promise it won’t happen again. I’m not going to lie. I haven’t been perfect for the last four years, but losing you over a thoughtless decision reformed me for good. You have my word. I won’t cheat ever again. You’re my future.”
I seesawed between overwhelming sadness and rage. I swallowed hard, trying to hold back the flood of emotions, but my throat was too dry and constricted to finish the motion. “Wow. I don’t know what to say,” I whispered, the rawness in my voice unmistakable. I jerked my hands out of his grasp. I felt as though I was dying inch by slow inch. The last four years had been a lie, and I’d been blind and dumb to reality. Evan hadn’t changed. He wouldn’t change. Ever.
“I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but I’m not going to lie and have to revisit this issue again. I want to put everything on the table so we can put it behind us. This way, we’ll have a clean slate again without any secrets hovering over us. It wasn’t as bad as you’re thinking. When we first started dating, occasionally I hooked up with another woman, but that stopped after two or three months when I realized I only wanted you. I never touched anyone else until two weeks ago. I went to a bar and Lena sat next to me.”
I held my hands over my ears. “I don’t want to know the details. Jesus, I get the point.”
“No.” He yanked my hands away from my face. “Let me finish. We danced. We kissed. After that, we went to dinner a couple times while you were at work. Then, she showed up at the bar the night you…” Evan looked away and rubbed the side of his face. “Found us. I didn’t invite her. We never had sex…not one time.”
I tipped my head toward the ceiling, the emptiness in my heart expanding to epic proportions with each passing word. “I appreciate your honesty, but I’m not ready to forgive you.” No, that wasn’t the truth. I’d never be able to have a trusting relationship with him again. Just thinking about how many times I crawled into bed next to him when he’d been with someone else sent a shard of pain through my foolish heart until it was nothing but a splintered mess in my chest.
“Not seeing you is tearing me apart.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “These past two weeks, I’ve been thinking about why I cheated.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “And what’d you come up with?” I prompted.
“I missed us. We used to spend all our time together, and lately you’ve been busy—”
“Don’t blame this on me.”
He shook his head. “I’m not, but I want more of you than you’ve been giving me. I want things to be like they were before graduate school.”