The three of us stand in silence, and I watch the happiness on Ever’s face for the next thirty-five minutes until the violinist ends her performance. The woman publicly thanks her friend for inviting her to this perfect little town and introducing her to Connecticut. I suppose that explains why a popular musician would be playing here of all places. Usually, our biggest excitement is when the high school band plays here.
“So ladies, I think we should find you a place to stay tonight. What do you think?” I ask as we walk toward the street.
“Where is your wife?” Ever asks me.
I unintentionally clear my throat, trying to find a way to avoid the question, while also realizing I can’t. I should technically be with Cammy—I mean, Tori, right now. She’s admitting herself to the hospital again, and I’m not sure what the protocol is for that. I know I should care more than I do right now, but I’m exhausted from caring. “AJ?” Cammy follows up Ever’s question. “Are you okay?”
I press my lips together and shake my head. “I don’t know,” I tell them.
“Which part?” Cammy asks.
“I know where she is, and I don’t know if I’m okay.”
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been so consumed with my own issues, I didn’t even consider asking you how things ended up after lunch today,” Cammy says.
“She seems kind of sad—or maybe it was just the blank look on her face,” Ever chimes in. Her words hit me hard. Was it that obvious that she wasn’t okay? All I know is, she’s more unstable than I ever realized. The truths of her past are haunting my mind, and I don’t know what to do about it.
“It’s a long story,” I tell them.
Cammy is looking at the side of my face while we continue to walk but I keep my gaze set ahead. “There’s a hotel just down the street. I’m sure we can find a room for you there. Let me just grab something from my truck.”
Neither of them argue as we make our way down the few blocks. It’s a smaller hotel, not a franchise like Cammy’s apparently become accustomed to, but all of the rooms are suites so it should be decent enough. I should know. I stayed here for a couple of weeks when Hunter was going through a rough patch, and I was sort of homeless, thanks to my last awesome relationship.
“You don’t have much stuff with you, do you?” I ask, noting their two small bags.
“Things were getting a little out of control with Casper earlier, and I just needed to get us out of there quickly. I wasn’t thinking too far ahead at that moment,” Cammy says. I’m biting my tongue, preventing myself from saying what I want to say about this dick. “We have things for tonight, though.”
“He’s probably taken the car too; I assume?” I ask.
“Yup,” Cammy says. “We’re on our own for a bit.”
“We’ll be okay,” Ever says. “I’ve basically been living on my own these past few years. My parents were never home, and my nanny was an alcoholic who forgot to do pretty much everything.” This breaks me. Who would adopt a child and then turn to a nanny to do all of the heavy lifting?
I’ve tried so hard to move on from the past, wanting to overcome the regret and shame I feel all of the time, but every time I get a little closer to blocking out the blame, it all comes rushing back. I want to tell Ever that we should never have let her go, but it wouldn’t settle well with Cammy, considering she was forced into the decision. I just wish Ever knew the truth.
We check into the hotel and I lead them upstairs, unsure of where to go myself. Going home doesn’t feel right without Gavin, and I don’t want to barge back into Hunter’s house since I’d end up waking the kids. Maybe I’m just trying to come up with excuses to stay here tonight, which would be very wrong.
We open the room up, finding a large main room and a decent-sized adjacent bedroom with two beds.
I make my way over to the small table in the corner and place down the little white box I’ve been saving all day. “Ever, I’ve waited thirteen long years to do this with you, and honestly, even right this second, I can’t believe this moment is actually happening.” She looks a bit confused so I open the box, and take the candle and lighter out of my back pocket. I plop the candle into the center of the cupcake and light it. “Okay, make a wish, Ever.”
She looks at me like I’m ridiculous, but I smile and tell her, “Do it. Wishes do come true. Trust me.”
Ever closes her eyes, and I put my arm around her and Cammy places her arm over mine. I glance at Cammy and the tears in her eyes as Ever blows out the candle. “Happy birthday, Ever,” she says.
As a moment for the books subsides, we split the cupcake in thirds, each of us having the few bites in silence. It’s like we all understand the greatness of this and there are no words important or adequate enough to fill the blank space.