“Are you staying in Chicago?” he repeated, this time speaking very slowly and very clearly. “Or are you heading off to Washington in a week?”
“Dammit, Evan,” I shouted, losing all patience now. “Why do you keep asking me that?”
He continued to face forward, but his voice had the same edge that I was feeling. “Answer the question.”
“I—yes,” I snapped. “You know I have a job. And in a few days, I’ll even have a place to live.”
He put the car back into gear and pulled out onto the street. I sat frozen, certain that we’d just crossed some line in the sand that I hadn’t even realized he’d drawn. When we reached my condo, he passed the valet stand and pulled to the curb. He sat silently, and it took me a second to realize he was waiting for me to get out.
“What the fuck, Evan?”
“You’re not being true to yourself, Lina,” he said, turning to face me. “Don’t expect more from me than you’re willing to give yourself.”
eighteen
You’re not being true to yourself.
For the rest of the night and into the next day, his words ran through my head over and over, like some horrible children’s ditty that had turned into a pernicious earworm.
You’re not being true to yourself.
At first I was pissed. I paced and I drank and I managed not to throw things, but only because I liked all the things that were in Jahn’s condo, and I’d already sacrificed one coffee cup to Evan Black.
So I worked off my anger by burning calories, stalking wildly around the condo, muttering to myself like a madwoman and making up some pretty damn fine curses in the process.
You’re not being true to yourself.
Then I sat. And I tried to watch television in order to drown out the annoying little voice that kept popping into my head, telling me that he was right.
But the voice was too loud and I couldn’t concentrate. Not on CNN, not on streaming episodes of Buffy. Not even on the fine figure of Gordon Ramsay cursing out all those little chef wannabes.
You’re not being true to yourself.
Goddamn Evan Black.
He was right.
He was right, but I was scared to change. I’d been living my life under someone else’s terms for so long that I wasn’t sure I knew how to do anything else. For that matter, I wasn’t sure I knew how to be me.
Dear god, I’d made a mess of it. My parents hadn’t lost just one daughter, they’d lost two. Because they didn’t even know Angelina, not anymore. I’d been trying so hard to be Gracie for them that I’d completely buried their youngest daughter.
You’re not being true to yourself.
Yeah, wasn’t that the understatement of the year? And it had only taken falling in love to make me finally see it.
“Ms. Raine?”
I was on the patio, standing by the glass barrier, looking out over the lake, though I wasn’t really seeing it. Now I turned in response to Peterson’s voice. “Yes?”
“Can I bring you anything? You should eat some lunch.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You didn’t have breakfast.” He paused. “Is there something I can help you with, perhaps?”
“No.” He couldn’t help me, and I was having one hell of a time helping myself. For that matter, I was having a hell of a time getting my head on straight.
I knew what I wanted—I wanted to stay. I wanted Evan. I wanted to work for the foundation.
I wanted to be true to myself. But I was scared of stepping off the path I’d paved for myself. And I was terrified of disappointing my parents.
There was only one person I knew who could help me. Only one person who could hold me tight and keep me firmly safe while I took the kind of risk that I was thinking about taking.
I needed to jump—and I knew with absolute certainty that I could only do that if Evan was beside me.
“Peterson,” I called, turning around and catching him before he moved efficiently back inside. “Wait. There is something you can do for me.”
“Whatever you need, Ms. Raine.”
“I need a car.”