“Did he hurt you?” I had to ask, just before we got to the door that led to the reception in the Porter’s private art gallery. It killed me to ask her, but I wouldn’t have forgiven myself had I not said something.
Graham loved her. I knew that. I really did. But her cry still echoed in my ears. Ronin was wrong. There was no way I sounded like that.
“Evie …” Lila turned toward me, taking my hands in hers. “Graham would never hurt me. How can you even ask me that?”
“Because I heard you scream, and it sounded bad. Not like you were enjoying it.” God … I felt stupid and embarrassed having that conversation with her.
Her grin didn’t help my situation. “There’s a reason why we’re friend soul mates, Evie … you always have my back. Literally.” She winked and blew me a kiss before making her grand entrance into the gallery of people waiting for the bride.
I rubbed my forehead. Lecturing her on any sort of taboo sex would have been very hypocritical of me. I knew what I had done with Ronin.
But fuck … I didn’t scream like that. Only victims in my horror movies screamed like that.
The rest of the evening rebounded back to the same kind of perfection as the wedding. I expected nothing less with three wedding planners and an endless budget.
“You’re mine on the dance floor, Evelyn.” Graham held out his hand to me.
Ronin nudged me off his lap. “Go show him your moves.”
I begrudgingly accepted Graham’s hand and looked over my shoulder, sticking my tongue out at Ronin.
He laughed, sipping his beer.
“I requested this song just for us.” Graham pulled me into his arms, gazing down at me with all kinds of mischief.
Rob Thomas, “Lonely No More.”
I suppressed my scowl, pretending I didn’t get the significance of the song even though I knew. It was the song that played on MTV the night we surpassed the legal limit and had sex. Quite fitting since, aside from the alcohol, the only good reason we had for testing our friendship with a stupid decision like sex was sheer loneliness.
“Thank you.” Graham kissed the top of my head as we attempted to slow dance to a song that wasn’t really a slow dance or a dancing song at all.
“For what?”
“Lila.”
I swallowed my tiny lump of regret, still hearing her scream from earlier. “You’re welcome. If you hurt her, I will kill you.”
Graham chuckled. “I’d expect nothing less of you.”
We swayed together as the song played on, Lila on one side of the room shooting me a big smile and Ronin on the other side of the room chatting it up with my parents while also giving me the occasional wink and grin.
As the song came to an end, Graham gave me one last hug. A tight, sincere hug. “I love you, Evelyn, more than you could possibly know.”
Peering up at him, I didn’t even try to hide the tears in my eyes. I loved him too. There was really no good reason why we didn’t end up together other than that thing. I believed for two people to fall in love there had to be a lot of definable things like common interests, goals, and the obvious attraction, but also the thing that couldn’t be defined. It had no label. It was just an invisible component of a relationship that made it work—that part of you that physically felt empty without that other person.
“I love you too, Graham. But I love Lila more … and so should you.”
He kissed my cheek, letting his lips linger against my skin as if it was some sort of goodbye. “Agreed,” he whispered. “We love Lila more.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Two years later …
Governor Graham Porter.
It’s not that I didn’t think he’d get elected. Money and influence mattered. No one had more money and influence than the Porters. Hoped … that was a better word. I’d hoped that he would choose a different path, more for Lila’s sake than his wellbeing.
“He asked me to quit my job.” Lila helped me package the bars of soap in my lab, and by helped, I meant she did it while I sat on one stool with my feet up on another stool because they were achy and swollen.
Three weeks to go until my due date. A boy … we were having a boy, just like Ronin wanted. A boy then a girl.
“He married you.” I thought back to the day of their wedding and the situation I encountered that would forever be burned into my memory.
What Graham said to Lila.
The bloody shrill of her screaming his name.
“But in spite of anything he’s ever said to you, he doesn’t own you. Not your decisions and not your job.”
He didn’t own her ass either (without permission and lube), but I didn’t go there.
With her back to me, she continued packaging the bars of soap. I didn’t feel bad letting her do all the work. My little lab was a sanctuary for her. She visited when she needed a time-out from life. There was something therapeutic about making soaps and turning herbs into essential oils. Maybe the scents that infiltrated the air calmed her. They always calmed me.
“When he’s happy, I’m happy. That’s not wrong, is it?”
I thought about her words for a bit before answering. “No. It’s not wrong unless he can’t say the same thing about you. It’s beautiful that you feel so connected to his happiness, that it fulfills something in your own life. I feel that way about Ronin. But I know he feels the same way about me. Hell, that’s one of the reasons we’re even married. He was a carefree bachelor who loved to travel the world, living job to job. I was a game changer for him. He wanted to be with me and share in my life and my happiness more than he wanted to continue down that same uninterrupted path. My happiness matters to him.”
“I’m happy.” She shrugged.
“You haven’t quit your job. If you quit tomorrow, will you be able to say the same thing in six months? And if you quit, are you doing it because it’s what you want or what Graham wants?”
“Both. I told you. He said it would make him happy to have me experience this with him, being by his side like a partner. He’s serving the people. He has the opportunity to do great things and make a difference. Why wouldn’t I want to do this with him?”
I chuckled. “I don’t know. Why wouldn’t you? And for the record, Lila, it’s me. You can speak freely. You can be selfish. It’s not wrong to choose your dreams over public service. I make soaps. Sure, they keep people clean, but I’m not exactly saving lives, feeding the hungry, or housing the homeless. Should I feel bad about that?”
“Maybe.” She turned toward me, leaning against the counter. Her lips turned up into a small grin. “Maybe you could do more, Evie.”
The wheels in my head spun because our conversation punched me in the gut with a solid dose of reality. I needed to do more. Maybe plant a tree for every gift box I sold. Or for every bar of soap someone purchased, I could donate a bar of soap. Something … I needed to do something that felt bigger than myself or my customers. The ski patrol discount (yes, that happened) wasn’t enough.
“You’re right. I’m going to do more. But I’m not going to close my shop to do it. I love my shop and my customers. I love what I do. So I’m going to figure out a way to do more by using what I love as a vehicle for change. Maybe you could do something with your job.”