As soon as he understands…
Hurrying into the bathroom I take the fastest shower of my life, ensuring I’m dressed and running curling gel through my hair by the time Ian sticks his head into the lightly steamed-up space.
“Hey,” he says, disappointment in his voice, “sorry. My call took a little longer than I thought.”
“It’s fine,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’m just hungry.” I rake my toiletries into my bag with one smooth sweep of my arm and move around him to the door. “Enjoy your shower. I’ll wait for you in the sitting room.”
“Okay,” he says, seeming to sense that something’s not quite right, but he doesn’t pry.
Because he’s Ian. He lets people come to him. He doesn’t push or expect intimacy you’re not ready to give. It’s one of his best traits, but it also gives me plenty of time to throw my toiletries in my duffel bag, write a quick note, and slip out of the room while the water is still running in the shower.
Downstairs, the woman at the front desk informs me there’s a free shuttle to the Amtrak station in the next town over and that if I hurry, I can catch the van before it leaves.
I plop into the last free seat, accepting a hospitality box from the driver before he slides the van door shut and circles around to get into the driver’s seat. Inside the box are water, an orange juice, and a fresh-baked blueberry muffin, but my appetite is gone.
My stomach is a sour pit, and my heart is still overflowing but with pain now.
Ian is the last person I ever wanted to hurt, but I had no choice. I did what I had to do, I tell myself, a miserable mantra that offers no comfort as the van drops us at the train station and I buy a one-way ticket back to my old life, the one with no Ian in it.
Chapter 31
Ian
I know something’s wrong the second I shut off the water.
The air is too quiet, too still, too…empty.
That’s what a world without Evie in it feels like now. Empty. Lacking in the meaning and vibrancy it has when I’m with her.
But I guess that emptiness is something I’m going to have to get used to, I realize as I step into the sitting room to see no sign of Evie except a piece of hotel stationary on the coffee table with her writing on it.
Heart in my throat, I collect the note and read—
* * *
Dear Ian,
* * *
Thank you for a wonderful night (and morning), but I think it’s best I leave before things get any more confusing. I will always love you and be so happy you were my first but I’m not ready for a relationship right now. I’m focused on school and my friends and trying to grow into the best version of myself.
* * *
Even if you were staying in town, the timing just isn’t right.
* * *
For either of us.
* * *
This would end up being a rebound for you and a mistake for me and not worth the drama it would cause with Derrick. I think we both know, deep down, that the two of us were meant to be friends, nothing more.
* * *
But that doesn’t mean I won’t always be your biggest fan. No matter where you end up moving or what team you play for, I’ll be here cheering you on and wishing you well. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re on your way to great things.
* * *
Much love and good luck on your next adventure,
* * *
Evie
* * *
Pain explodes behind my ribs, followed quickly by more explosions in my throat, head, and deep down in my gut where I know that Evie’s wrong. We weren’t meant to be just friends, the timing isn’t wrong, and she’s the farthest thing from a rebound. She’s the one I’ve been waiting for, the only woman I want to build a life and a family with.
I’m more ready to get down on one knee after a week with Evie than I was after three years with my ex.
But she doesn’t feel the same way.
How can she not feel the same way? After last night, I was so positive, so certain… And so wrong.
Fuck, how could I have been so wrong?
I fetch my cell, but after letting my thumb hover over Evie’s name for a long beat, I tap my agent’s number instead. Fred doesn’t answer—he’s probably still pissed off about our conversation before I got in the shower—but he’ll be less pissed once he gets this message.
“Hey, it’s me again,” I say, my voice hollow and sad, but already resigned. This is what Evie wants and there’s no point in staying here now. Living so close to her, but being outside her inner circle, a spectator to her life as she grows and evolves and eventually starts dating other guys, would be too painful. “I’ve changed my mind. You’re right. I need to get out of here before I waste another good year on a bad situation. I’ll be at the meeting on Monday, and I’ll be prepared to make a decision. So, guess I’ll see you then.”
I end the call and sink into the soft couch cushions, gazing out the window at the beautiful view and feeling…not much. The landscape isn’t as stunning without Evie here to share it with, and I suddenly find I can’t stay here another second.
Now that she’s gone, I can’t stand to be in this place where she was so close, so mine.
She was mine, even if it was only for a night.
I try to let that make me feel better, but it doesn’t, and by the time I’ve dressed and packed up my things, I’m lower than I can remember being in ages.
But that’s all the more reason to get out of here, get a fresh start, and put the stress and angst of the past year behind me. That’s the only good part about that note and everything Evie said in it—it’s going to make leaving easier than I ever imagined.
And that, no doubt, is exactly why she wrote it.
“Dumbass,” I say aloud, the word echoing through the empty room. “You’re a fucking dumbass.”
I am, but at least I realized the truth before it was too late.
Now, I just have to figure out what to do about it. Because there’s no way I’m giving up on this thing with Evie, not without one hell of a fight.
Chapter 32
Evie
I cry behind my sunglasses most of the train ride home, producing enough snot that the woman across the aisle buys me a bottle of water from the refreshment car.
“You’ll get dehydrated, sweetheart,” she says as she settles back into her seat. “Drink that and try to eat something. And remember, men are rarely worth crying over.”
I sniff and thank her for the water before adding in a tear-ravaged voice, “But he is. He was. He’s a really great person.” And then I start crying again, so I’m not sure what she says back, but I think it was something about finding a girlfriend to talk to when I get home.