There were several instances of Way to go, Everly and lots of You go, girl, which was an expression she just couldn’t pull off. Sometimes she answered, others she didn’t. The interaction was part of bringing the audience into the fold, but she hadn’t expected to enjoy it.
Her eyes stopped at a comment made after she’d posted about canceling on Daniel.
Ally Meyer You’re so inspiring, Everly. I’d never get the nerve to reschedule. I can’t even find the nerve to say yes.
Everly’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. She was no one’s guru, but she could give her own perspective.
Everly Dean Thank you, Ally, but trust me when I say I take it one step at a time. Saying yes that first time and making yourself follow through really does make the next time easier.
It sent a strange thrill through her that her experience was impacting others. What if she could help others be brave by being brave herself? Not in a public forum or anything. She wasn’t signing up to give TED Talks, but interacting on Facebook in small degrees was okay.
She smiled when she saw dots pop up under her comment. Was Ally commenting back? It could just as easily be someone chiming in to be negative. There were a lot of Take Simon back comments peppered in between the good ones.
Ally Meyer I’m going to try. The next time my crush asks me out, I’m going to say yes. Any suggestions for how to make myself believe he’ll actually want to ask again?
Everly laughed. She was treading in unchartered waters. No one asked her for dating advice. It was surreal and a little unsettling. Don’t screw it up. Just be honest. What would you do?
Everly Dean If you want the truth, I made a list of rules for myself. Things I wanted to follow through with. I needed it if I wanted to reach my goals. Could you do something similar? Make a list of what makes you awesome, just to remind yourself when you’re feeling unsure? Obviously, there’s a reason he’s asked more than once.
She almost added, You go, girl, but fortunately stopped herself.
An instant message from Ally popped up. Everly opened it, pulse pumping. She didn’t want a stalker or anything. She’s not a stalker. Just a girl who feels like you do.
Ally Meyer Thank you for taking the time to respond. I’m going to do that. It’ll be good to have something to remind myself. Good luck on your next date. I’m still rooting for Owen.
Everly thanked her before shutting down the computer. Unable to wipe the smile from her face, she thought about the interaction, about the podcast she still wanted to push. Mari had seemed on edge about Everly getting another spotlight. It wasn’t what she was after, though. She just wanted to create something that would resonate with people. Ideas started to simmer. She didn’t have to be sole producer of the podcast. Everly had never wanted or needed the spotlight. She just wanted to be good at her job.
A small smile played on her lips as she thought of ideas to bounce off Mari and Stacey. The five words on her screen pulled her heart back into her stomach.
MOM: Come visit at my office?
Everly sighed and closed her laptop, getting up from the table. She took her phone with her as she walked toward her bedroom to grab a light sweater. As she went, she typed the response her mother was no doubt expecting because this was so far from the first time, she couldn’t even remember.
EVERLY: On my way.
* * *
Her mom’s office was actually a converted home. They owned the entire home, but she ran her massage practice out of the bottom. The top unit was shared by a chiropractor and a physical therapist. The entrance and living area had been transformed into a waiting area, the former kitchen was now a staff break room, and two of the three bedrooms were massage rooms. The third bedroom was an office for her mom, complete with pullout couch and television. It was a pretty sweet setup.
Everly knocked, ignoring the knots growing in her stomach. Her mother opened on the second knock.
“Hi, sweet girl.” She pulled her into a tight hug.
“Hi, Mom,” Everly said, her voice muffled by her mother’s embrace.
“You didn’t have to come,” she said, stepping back and waving Everly in.
Uh-huh. And if she hadn’t, she’d never hear the end of it. The sound of a game show came from down the hall, along with the scent of lavender. What had been the catalyst this time?
“Did you have dinner?”
Everly slipped off her shoes and walked toward the office. “No. I went to the gym and was going to eat after,” she said. She hadn’t been hungry after the gym. Simon tended to ruin her appetite.
“The gym? Good for you. I’ll order Chinese.”
“I’m not hungry, Mom. What are you guys fighting about?” Why did they have to do this dance? Why couldn’t they remember she was their kid, not their friend, not their counselor? Uh, because you never say anything?
When she walked into the office, she stopped abruptly. “What is that?”
“Do you like it?” Her mom came up behind her, poked her head over Everly’s shoulder. “It’s my new hobby. Life portraits of the male form. And if you must know, that’s what we fought about.”
Everly tried to look somewhere else—at the television, the couch, the floor—but it was impossible not to stare at the life-size canvas she’d set up against the wall. Where had she even gotten a canvas that big?
Her mom moved around her and walked over, gesturing to the painting—if it could actually be called that—with wild, fluttery hands and a smile.
“I’ve been taking a course here and there at the college. Your father was all offended when he found my drawings around the house. But look at this, Evs. This is the human body in all its glory.”
Everly choked and nodded at the same time. It looked more like stretched beige cloth with a tennis ball shoved into the top of it and strange limb-like things—Please let that one be a leg and not something else—sprouting out from different areas.
“Is it … um, abstract?”
Her mother’s smile flatlined. “No. Oh, honey, you don’t have an artist’s eye. Plus, it’s not finished. This is just the beginning.”
Everly absolutely did not want to know what it was the beginning of. And she hoped never to see the end. Oh God, what if she gives it to me as a gift? There was no hiding that thing at the back of a closet. It was bigger than her closet.
She sank down on the couch, oddly unsettled as if there were a third, faceless, well-endowed presence in the room.
“Dad didn’t like the drawings?”
Her mother sank down beside her. “No. Men can appreciate—a.k.a. drool—all over women’s bodies and talk about their great butts and boobs and everything else, but I can’t comment when I see a well-shaped man? I mean, excuse me for noticing a really tight, firm—”
“Mom.” The word snapped out of her mouth like a shot. She held up a hand. “Got it. Appreciation is one thing, but would you like it if Dad were drawing the female form?”
Her mother’s eyes widened and filled with tears. “I asked him to take the course with me. I’m sure they’ll get some female models soon.”
Everly’s jaw dropped. “You looked at a real person for this?”
She nodded. Proudly. Everly did her best to avoid looking at the painting again.
“Wow.” She’d gotten her mother’s jaw structure and nose. How come she hadn’t gotten any of her guts?
Her mother jumped up. “Let me grab some snacks.” She rolled her eyes, but they landed on the painting and all she wanted was a blindfold.
Everly checked off the list in her head: she’d come back with two glasses of wine, snacks she’d prepared, even though Everly didn’t have to show up, and then she’d say how she didn’t feel seen or understood. Sometime tomorrow, her father would give his side of the events. Everly was expected to show an openly divided loyalty. It was exhausting.
Pulling her phone out of her purse, she glanced at it and saw a text from Chris.
CHRIS: Rob said you ran into Simon. You okay?
/>
She typed back a quick response.
EVERLY: I’m fine. It was just a moment.
CHRIS:…
Everly waited.
CHRIS: Want company?
A gentle shiver traveled over her skin.
EVERLY: I’m at my mom’s work.
CHRIS: Getting a massage?
She smiled even as her cheeks heated.
EVERLY: No. When she and my dad fight, she comes here to “cool down.” It’s complicated.
CHRIS: Most things are. Text me if you change your mind. I’ll just be watching VM.
“You should latch on to whoever is making you smile like that,” her mother said, carrying two way-too-full wineglasses. She set them down and went back to the kitchen, returning a minute later with a platter of cheeses, crackers, and veggies with some hummus dip.
Everly slipped her phone back inside her purse and picked up her wine. It was too sweet for her taste, but she wouldn’t drink it all, anyway.
“So?” Everly braced for whatever her mom would say. She’d always thought by thirty, she wouldn’t care. That she’d be immune to their back-and-forth game in the way she was to reality shows—they piqued her interest, but she could easily turn off the TV. With her parents, though, it was one of those ones that sucked her in even when she knew she shouldn’t watch. She couldn’t look away or pretend it didn’t matter.
Her mother leaned back with a sigh. “Tell me about the smile first.”
It was nowhere to be found. “It’s nothing.”
Her mom leaned over and poked her in the shoulder, a playful grin tilting her lips. “One of the lucky bachelors?”
Nope. Just the … purveyor of said bachelors.
“How’s that going?”
Two dates left and it’s over. “Fine. It’s … okay, I guess. I have another date tomorrow.” She knew how this worked—give a little to get the intel. “I had to reschedule last time, so it’s a makeup date.”
Her mom’s smile shifted into something else. Something Everly didn’t want to see. “Oh? How will you make it up to him?”
Huffing out a breath, she tapped the fingers of one hand on her thigh. “I don’t like when you do this.”
“What?” Her mom blinked innocently.
She knew exactly what. They’d had the conversation enough times.
“You wanted me to come, so just tell me. What’s going on with you and Dad?”
Pasting on a phony grin that—to her credit—she didn’t use often, her mom leaned in. “I have an idea. Why don’t the two of us hit whatever hot spot is all the rage these days?”
Blinking rapidly, Everly tried to wrap her head around the sentence. Take it slow. No temper. She’s hurting. Hidden well or not, Everly knew her mom didn’t enjoy their blowups. Who would?
“I have no idea what would be considered a hot spot right now. Like, zero. And as to anything being ‘the rage’? I don’t think that’s a thing anymore.”
Her mom poked her in the shoulder again and then grabbed a piece of cheese from the platter. “We should switch spots. You act like you’re thirty years older than I am. Youth is wasted, sweet girl. Tell me about the date tomorrow.”
She wore yoga pants and a fitted tank top. Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and her face was makeup-free. Since she’d inherited her mother’s lack of cleavage, Everly hoped to age in a similarly graceful fashion.
Everly continued to stare until, finally, her mom’s shoulders dropped and she knew it was time.
“Marriage is hard, Evie.”
There’s a news flash. “Yeah, Mom. That’s why people go to counseling or talk things out, make changes.” The hard part is what you work at, persevere through. That was the whole point of the commitment.
“He doesn’t see my talent. My need for a creative outlet. He insulted my work,” she said, holding her wine in both hands.
Hobby, Mom. It can’t be work unless you actually commit to it. Maybe that’s a more common theme than I’d thought. She never returned to one of her blowout hobbies, so she never actually got better at any of them. Not balloon animals, crocheting, cross-stitching, fishing. The chances she’d become the next Picasso were slim.
Everly pushed back at the irritation roiling through her, but she hated this, everything about it from being in the middle to wondering if they’d ever actually pull the plug. How could anyone live with that kind of uncertainty? She couldn’t. Some people called it a piece of paper, but in her mind, you sign it, you mean it. You don’t run off when things take a sharp turn.
“Why do you do this to each other?” To me. The words came out harsher than she’d intended.
Her mother’s eyes widened. “Do what? I’m trying to navigate growing older with a man who says he’s changing and I’m not changing with him. He thinks our life is boring and we need more excitement. I asked him to try one of my hobbies. He wants to travel or to maybe try something new in the—”
Everly cleared her throat, interrupting her mom. “I’m begging you not to finish that sentence or even the thought.” There were so many things a kid never needed to know about their parents.
Her mom rolled her eyes and sighed. “How are you such a prude? People have sex, Everly. It’s normal and natural, and sometimes, when a dry spell happens, you need to spice things up. I’m not opposed to that.”
Everly’s brows pushed together, and she picked up a piece of celery. “It’s like I didn’t actually say, ‘Don’t tell me,’ out loud.”
“This is how he gets his way,” her mom said, bottom lip quivering. She pointed to her artwork. “Belittling the way I express myself.”
Despite Everly’s impatience with the situation and both of her parents—because no doubt both of them had a hand in whatever had caused this round—guilt and pity swamped her. She wanted them to be happy but had no idea how to help that along.
“It’s not healthy for you guys to go back and forth like this. Did you try telling him he hurt your feelings? Did you try to understand how he felt when he said he didn’t like seeing his wife draw nude men?” Everly grabbed another piece of celery, suddenly hungry.
Her mom lowered the sound on the TV. “It’s easy to judge when you’ve never been in a serious relationship, never mind married, sweetheart.”
Crunching into the tasteless vegetable, she figured it was a good thing her mouth was full. Maybe she’d never been married, but she knew when she did, it would be for good. Choosing to spend your lives together shouldn’t resemble a freaking yo-yo every time one person didn’t get their own way.
She swallowed, hoping the extra seconds smoothed her tone. “Relationships, marriage or otherwise, are supposed to be a mostly positive thing. I don’t need to get married or have been married to know that this back-and-forth you guys do isn’t healthy. If you love each other, you make it work. If you really want a hobby, get one and stick to it. Don’t do it as a way to get back at him for something. Stop coming here when you’re mad. Talk to your husband. If you can’t do it on your own, ask for help. There are professionals for this. You love each other. Leaving can’t be just one of the option boxes you check when you’re mad.”
Where had all that come from? She blinked, nerves swirling at the look of shock on her mother’s face. Everly picked up her wineglass again and gripped the stem tightly, taking a long swallow.
“I didn’t invite you over for this. I just wanted company,” her mother said quietly. She hadn’t invited her at all—she’d sent the “I need you” code, and Everly had gone.
Lowering her glass and her gaze, Everly nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“You don’t understand. Maybe one day, you will.”
That had always been her hope. To one day understand them. Not today, obviously.
By the time she left, Everly felt wired. Unsettled energy coursed through her, looking for an outlet. Maybe you should go back to kickboxing now, she thought. She did have nine classes left. She was actually looking forward to going, but t
onight, she was too tired.
On the drive back to her place, she thought about how she’d managed to piss off two of her favorite people today: her mom and her best friend. Thinking about it only made her antsier, so instead of heading for her home, she detoured to the grocery store.
The parking lot of Save N’ Shop was quiet when Everly pulled in. Adulting at night was far less crowded. Maybe this could be her new thing. She smirked. Stacey would so veto that as trying a new thing. A little thorn lodged in her ribs. She didn’t like when things weren’t okay with Stacey. Or not knowing whether there was more she should apologize for. She grabbed a basket. Things will be fine. You’ll text her later, Stacey will blow off your apologies, the slate will be clean.
Maybe my something new should be to cook something. If those little kids on TV can do it, I can. Maybe. She was a decent cook—as in, she didn’t starve even without takeout. How about a dessert? She passed the baking aisle, stopped, and decided to check it out. Something chocolate? Chocolate is always good. Chocolate caramel pie, in particular, is very good. That same shiver she’d felt with Chris’s text grazed her skin, making her heart feel like a live wire. She started to talk herself out of making a dessert that would cause her to think more about the man she shouldn’t be fixating on. Do you have to pick apart every little thing you do? Make it into something more? It’s a dessert. Get over yourself, Everly. You’re not proposing marriage. Pulling her phone out, she looked up the ingredients.
“This isn’t so hard. I can do this,” she muttered, scrolling down the list.
“I have no doubt you can,” a deep, male voice said.
Everly’s head snapped up, her skin prickling with the embarrassment that came along with talking to oneself. She locked eyes with Owen Baston. Bachelor number one. The smile that took over her face was shockingly genuine. It stretched her cheeks.
Her heart flipped out like a hamster on speed, stuck on one of those wheels. “Ha. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Ten Rules for Faking It Page 21