Happily Evan After

by Fleur Smith

  Her quiet utterance attracted Drew’s wayward gaze—Becca wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been deliberately looking away in a sign of forced nonchalance. His jaw dropped as his gaze raked over her form-fitting outfit.

  The instant his eyes turned onto her, she tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “Hi,” he replied, his lips curling up in response to her grin.

  “You look great.” The words fell from Becca’s mouth without thought, but that didn’t make them less true. He was only dressed in a navy blue suit, with the jacket buttons all undone, but the white shirt fitted perfectly to his well-formed body. It was tucked tightly into his pants, leaving his pecs and abs practically on display through the thin cotton.

  He pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning against and stepped closer to her.

  “You do too,” he said as he caressed her cheek with the palm of his hand.

  His long fingers dipped beneath her ear, tangling into her curls and rubbing small circles against her scalp. Even though the movements were tiny, they were sensual and spoke to places much lower on her body. For a moment, she wondered what those warm fingers would feel like touching other places with soft caresses and tender ministrations.

  She was almost about to forgo the date and drag Drew straight down to her bedroom when she remembered that Evan had been down there. Although he might have left the instant he was out of Becca’s sight, it would have been difficult to explain his presence to Drew if he hadn’t—especially his presence in that particular room.

  When she thought of Evan, she started to wonder whether he would stay put in her room or come out and play the part of a worried parental figure. If he hadn’t decided to leave entirely that was. Despite the man standing in front of her, her mind became filled with thoughts of Evan, just like it had for most of the day. Part of her wanted to run to her room to see whether he was still there. Each time she saw him, she was terrified that it would be the last time, especially now that she and Drew were actually going on their first date.

  “You ready to go?” Drew’s rich voice pulled her from her worry over her cupid and back onto the task at hand.

  She quickly catalogued everything—she had her shoes, her purse, and her cell phone—and nodded.

  “Then let’s go.” Drew offered her his arm, which she took gratefully.

  She was surprised how solid the muscles were considering he was a doctor and didn’t spend all day doing manual labor.

  He must work out a lot, she decided, wrapping her fingers around his bicep so that he could lead her to his car.

  The conversation on the drive to the restaurant was a little stuttered and awkward. There was little point asking about his day at work because she’d been there for most of it. She asked how he was finding it being back in town, but even that topic only covered a minute or two.

  He pulled up in front of a small family pizzeria and grimaced. “Ideally, I would have liked to have taken you somewhere really fancy for our first date, but the selection here is limited compared to what I’m used to.”

  “It’s fine.” In fact, the restaurant was one of Becca’s favorite pizza places, but now she felt a little embarrassed to admit it.

  “I’m sure the company will make up for any shortcomings.” He grinned at her, and she flushed in response.

  He could probably read his shopping list to her and she’d think it was sexy in that voice of his. If he hadn’t found a calling as a doctor, he probably could have gone into radio.

  The waiter led them over to their table and Drew held Becca’s seat out for her.

  Becca took a moment to relish the fact that not only was he attractive and kind—and into her—he was also a gentleman.

  Before the waiter could leave, Drew ordered a bottle of wine and some appetizers. Becca was a little surprised not to be consulted about what would be going in her mouth, but decided it was a nice change.

  “So, Becca, what are your plans?” Drew asked when the waiter had left them.

  “Plans?” She was confused, hadn’t he arranged the date?

  “Yeah, you know. You’re in your mid-twenties, what’s next?”

  “Oh. Well, I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  “Are you going to go into nursing?”

  “I don’t know. Honestly, I’m just happy with the way things are at the moment.”

  “Oh. Okay.” He seemed a little perplexed.

  “How about you? I know you’re taking time to settle back into the small town life for the moment, but what about after that?”

  “I’d like to specialize.”

  “Really? What in?”

  “Cardiothoracic surgery.”

  “The heart?” Becca smiled to herself. Of course he’d be interested in that—just like the other man in her life. Since when is Evan the other man in your life?

  Almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind, it was followed by an image of Evan smiling at her. Reminding herself that she was on a date with Drew, and not Evan, she pushed all thoughts of her cupid and his dimples out of her mind and concentrated on her date instead.

  By the third date, Becca was practically on fire for Drew. He had a way of inflaming her whole body through the softest touch. Like when he fed her strawberries dipped in warm chocolate for dessert two nights earlier and his fingers traced along the corner of her mouth. It took all of her willpower to not draw the digit between her lips and give it a little suck. Or when he’d picked her up for the evening and had adjusted the clasp on her necklace so that it was centered at the back of her neck again, his fingertips tracing a blazing path across her skin as he had.

  “Sorry, what did you say?” she asked, looking up from Drew’s soft lips to meet his gaze. He’d asked her something, but for the life of her she couldn’t hear what over the screaming of her libido.

  He chuckled. It was so obvious that he knew the effect his presence had on her. “I asked what Cathy meant when she mentioned your fascination with dead people.”

  “Oh.” Becca couldn’t believe her friend had said anything about her cemetery visits to Drew, especially in her way that made them sound so creepy. She felt heat rising on her cheeks and wondered whether they were flushing as red as they felt. “It’s not like that. I find cemeteries a great source of inspiration for my photography.”

  “Photography? Is that something you’re looking at doing professionally? Is that why you haven’t pushed your career at the hospital?”

  “Oh, um, no. It’s just a hobby.”

  “The way Cathy spoke, I thought the cemetery visits must have been something that you did often.”

  “Usually every chance I get.”

  “Huh.” He seemed confused. “I thought you said it was a hobby.”

  “Yeah, but it’s time consuming.”

  “I don’t understand why you’d waste time on something that you don’t take seriously.”

  She frowned. “I do take it seriously. I’ve invested a lot of time and money into my set-up.”

  “But that’s just silly if it’s only a hobby. You’ve never considered doing it professionally?”

  “No. I couldn’t. It’s too personal.” She didn’t even like showing people the results of her shoots until she knew they’d turned out well—and even then there were only a select few frames she’d ever shared.

  “Hmm, odd.”

  She bristled at how dismissive he was of her passion, but decided the best way to demonstrate to him why it was important to her was to let him in on that part of her life. “I could show you some later, if you like?”

  “I’m not really into art,” he said.

  “Oh.” She was inviting him back to her house for more than just photos, letting him see more than just a print, but he hadn’t seemed to understand.

  He looked down at his watch. “I really should be going,” he said. “It’s going to be a big day tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, sure. Of course.” She wanted to cry. She’d put herself on the line and fel
t like she’d been slapped.

  When Drew dropped her off, she headed for the kitchen for a consolatory glass of wine. She’d just finished pouring it when Evan popped in beside her.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  She swallowed a mouthful of chardonnay. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing. I can’t hear myself think over the sound of your sorrow.”

  She chuckled. “I’ve just got the feeling that . . . never mind.”

  “Tell me?” he coaxed. “Please?”

  “You’re sure that Drew and I have the spark?”

  Evan seemed taken aback by the question. “Yeah. There’s something there. Why? What happened?”

  “Nothing. I just . . . I wanted him to come home with me tonight, and he didn’t want to.”

  Evan’s mouth pressed into a hard line. After a moment, he smiled. “Becca, even the most compatible people have to work to find their common ground.” He touched her shoulder.

  Feeling the surge of love he’d intended to show her, she grinned back at him. It was like when he’d opened her heart to the true grief she’d experienced, only more wonderful. The warm, pleasant sensation flooded through her body. If that was the truth of their love, it solidified her belief in the fact that she and Drew were right for each other.

  Evan knew it was wrong to sneak around the edges of Becca’s dates, and not only because she’d expressly forbidden him from following her while he was cloaked. He couldn’t help himself, or his morbid curiosity, though. He very rarely witnessed whole dates.

  Usually, he was instrumental at bringing couples together in the beginning and then just returned to reap the benefits of their most heightened experience—the moments where they reaffirmed their commitment to each other. He would get a renewed fix whenever his matches experienced dizzying heights of love, like at weddings, births, and even on occasion at death, but the rest of the time, he'd leave them alone. For some reason that baffled even him, he’d just followed Becca and Drew on their fifth date.

  It was so far outside the scope of what was required of him as a cupid. He’d never cloaked himself and followed his matches into restaurants before.

  He’d definitely never before gotten so lost watching the way any of his previous cases ate their food—the way her lips caress the fork with each bite—that he forgot to move out of the way when a waiter came from the bar carrying a tray full of drinks. He’d also never before had to watch two people drenched with the bitter scent of alcohol laugh off a waiter apologizing after tripping over thin air with a wave of their hands.

  The combination of all of those never-befores had led to him having to spend some time hiding away in the restaurant before being able to head back to check on Becca. He didn’t think that satisfactorily explained why he was standing in Becca’s garden, hidden from her sight, trying to figure out whether she’d been able to salvage the rest of her date with Drew. Evan wondered if Becca had known he’d been there, that he’d been the cause of the accident, but realized that if she had, she hadn’t given any indication of it.

  He moved from window to window, trying to find where they might have ended up.

  Strange noises from inside the house drew him around the corner until he was at her bedroom window—full of concern that maybe she was being attacked because of the cries coming from that direction. The sounds were increasing in intensity and volume, which made him rush closer as his concern bubbled away inside of him.

  Evan pressed his face against the glass to see into the darkened room. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the sight, he stepped away from the window. He shouldn’t have been there; he shouldn’t have been intruding. Little Evan certainly shouldn’t have instantly stood at attention at the way Becca’s body glistened with a sheen of sweat in the low light of the bedroom.

  Evan began to move away, but stopped when the scene repeated itself in his head. He had to double check what he’d seen because he really didn't think that human bodies bent quite like that. It had to have been uncomfortable, but then again if the look on Becca’s face was any indication, it was anything but.

  Evan turned back toward the framed scene. Shifting the weight on his foot forward a little more, he leaned heavily against the window. With two hands pressed against the glass, he peered between his fingers to watch the motions in front of him.

  The first thought he had after renewing his view was that Becca was beautiful as she lost herself in bliss. He’d known she would be, not that he’d spent any time thinking about her naked and desperate beneath him. Well, not that much time. It wasn’t like he’d spent every second they’d had together picturing it at least.

  His vision began to obscure and at first he wondered whether his bosses were punishing his wicked spying before he realized that it was just his heavy, warm breaths against the cold glass that caused a haze of condensation. He wiped away the fog and refocused on the couple within.

  Before he’d had significant time to consider the physics involved with holding Becca’s leg up at such an angle and moving inside her all at the same time, the scene changed again. Drew wrapped his arms around her torso and lifted her completely off the bed. He didn’t even use the wall for support, instead wrapping his arms around Becca’s ass and holding her in place while he pounded into her over and over.

  Before it occurred to Evan that he should stop it, the question of whether he’d have the upper-body strength required to hold Becca in such a way to draw those desperate, needful moans from her lips ran through his mind. He tested the strength in his arms with a few standing push-ups against the window before realizing what he was doing and forcing himself to stop.

  Turn around and leave right now, he admonished.

  It was rude and voyeuristic to watch Drew drawing Becca closer to ecstasy, Evan knew that. But he couldn’t pull himself away even if he’d wanted to. Jealousy and a desire to be in Drew’s position burned through him anew. His mind absorbed all of the fodder for his own wicked fantasies.

  Although he’d been able to do what he could to drown his jealousy before, he couldn’t while he was watching the scene in front of him. He wondered how they’d gone from disaster date to naked dancing in such a short time. Although even Evan had to admit the chemistry between Drew and Becca was electric, and had seemed to grow hotter by the minute whenever they were close. Especially after the increasingly romantic dates Drew had been taking Becca on. He supposed they’d done well to wait until their fifth date. And that they’d actually arrived back home first before partaking in the pleasure of one another.

  Dating in the modern day was definitely different to when Evan was alive.

  How could I ever compete with that? It was a ridiculous thought. He couldn’t compete. Nor should he want to. But he did. He really, really did.

  A soft thump from inside drew his attention back to the framed image of his perfect woman in the arms of her perfect man. Drew had dropped Becca back onto the bed and had climbed over her. Becca’s hands fisted in the rumpled sheets, and her lips parted with cries of pleasure. She arched her back over Drew’s arm, which was wrapped around her body just about her hips. If Evan hadn’t been cloaked, and if Becca’s eyes had been opened, he would have been directly in her line of sight so he had an unimpeded view of the pure ecstasy on her features. Her skin flushed pink with need which was only amplified by the sweat slicking both her body and Drew’s.

  Although Evan had no interest in what Drew was doing, it was impossible for Evan to miss Drew’s lips repeatedly pressing open-mouthed kisses against Becca’s breasts—which trembled in time with the panting breaths she took and shook under Drew’s relentless rhythm.

  One of Becca’s hands let go of the sheet to clutch at Drew’s short hair, forcing him to draw one of her breasts into his mouth. Whatever he did with his tongue—or possibly teeth—drew more desperate moans from Becca, and Evan wished he knew how to do . . . whatever it was exactly that Drew was doing. Not that it was a skill he’d ever get to use.


  Knowing that he could never compete with Drew, should never compete, Evan was finally able to turn his back on the scene. It was clear things were going well with Becca and Drew, so he imagined that it must have been almost his time to move on. Although he’d started to dread the outcome recently, he decided it was probably preferable to having to watch Becca any longer. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could spend around the happy couple without just coming out and telling her everything he felt.

  Waiting in Becca’s darkroom, the one place he’d never seen Drew go in her house, he wondered whether it would be hours or days before he had to go. There was nothing in his mind or body to warn him that it was going to happen, but he didn’t think he’d get much warning either. He figured it would be a here one moment, there the next, type of thing. He just hoped he had the chance to say goodbye to Becca before it happened.

  Part of him no longer wanted Becca to be his last match. He wanted to keep going so that he could check up on her and make sure she was still happy in six months, a year, three. He closed his eyes, almost hoping that he’d see a new name on his mental list which would have proven him wrong in his first assumption, but none appeared.

  Take me now then, he thought at whoever was listening. Take me so that I don’t have to see them fall further in love. Not while I’m in love with her. It’s not fair to make me endure that.

  While he begged for mercy, he screwed his eyes tightly closed. When nothing had happened after a second, then two, he sighed and opened them again. He was lost, left in a limbo between matching Becca and whatever came next.

  If you’re not going to help me, I’m not going to responsible for what happens next.

  Nothing. His only companions were silence and the certainty that he was completely alone in the darkroom—even though he was certain his bosses could hear him.

  Screw you then, he thought.

  “Why should I have to stand by idly while you scratch your asses and do nothing to help me?” he hissed at the empty space. “Maybe I should just tell her everything.”