Happily Evan After

by Fleur Smith

  After quickly changing into a pair of yoga pants with a hole in the knee and a t-shirt that hadn’t seen the light of day for at least five years, she headed back to the garage with a pair of scissors and some tape to reseal the boxes she opened in her search.

  Even though she hadn’t really known exactly what it was she was looking for, she found it in the third box she opened. The first two had been filled to almost overflowing with information about her and her parents. The third was an older box, the edges frayed and tattered, and the original tape brown and lifting off the cover. Sitting on top of the three-quarter filled box were a small stack of newspaper clippings listing different details about the trial over Rose’s death. Buried deeper beneath those hid some information about her death—including her death certificate—and something that looked like old, yellowed envelopes were hidden even further down. It was definitely a box of Rose’s memories, and she hoped it would give her an insight into her great-aunt’s life.

  Becca carried the box into the house and down the stairs into her basement. It felt right to open this box properly down there, among the memories of what she’d shared with Evan. Not that she wanted to relive any of that friendship. Not. At. All. She just wanted to find answers and it was the most convenient place to do it.

  She dug out the crinkled, rough paper that held the clippings about the trial. They were only small scraps of paper and easily lost, so she kept them all together in a neat pile to one side of the box. Digging deeper, her fingers closed around a photo and a handful of the envelopes she’d seen.

  A gasp rushed from her lips as she looked at the photo—it was like looking at an aged photograph of herself. She could see exactly what Evan had seen in her, but it didn’t make her feel better. If anything it reminded her of the reasons why she’d thrown him out of her life. The love he’d offered her was second-hand, and that wasn’t good enough for her. She might have had issues with Drew, but at least he loved her.

  Pushing open one of the envelopes, she pulled out the letter within. The ink had bled into the page a little, and the paper felt like it would disintegrate in her touch, but it was exactly the sort of thing she’d hoped for when she’d gone digging in her nana’s old boxes. It was a link to the past, written by the very hand which had held hers as she tried to find love.

  “Dearest Rose,”

  Seeing the name laid out at the top, and Evan’s name signing off at the bottom was surreal and yet it cemented everything that Evan had told her as fact.

  Well, at least he wasn’t lying to me about that.

  She leafed through the box, grabbing out all of the letters she could find, and then sat on the floor to devour them all. The one-sided story of broken hearts and shattered lives was enough to make her heart weep for her aunt. But more than that, her heart ached for Evan. Letter after letter had him begging Rose to leave her husband, just to get away from his jealousy. Becca wondered what Rose’s letters had contained in return to fill Evan with such a strong fear for her life.

  Fear that ended up being justified, she thought as a shiver raced down her spine.

  The room was almost completely dark by the time she reached the last letter and she couldn’t even read the words in the dim light. She wasn’t sure she needed to read it—or even wanted to really. Everything she’d learned already was far too much for her to understand as it was. She sat in the increasingly darkened room just waiting for everything she’d learned to filter though her mind.

  After an hour of reflecting on what she’d learned, she still wasn’t any closer to working out how to comprehend just how big everything that surrounded her seemed to be. A little over seven weeks earlier, all of this would have been so far outside the scope of anything she’d ever considered possible. Now, it almost made sense in some weird way, or at least it had until Evan’s latest revelation. Even his reaction to her was a little clearer after the letters.

  Her stomach growled, noisily reminding her of her need to eat, so she pushed herself up from the floor knowing there was little more that she could do but move on.

  It would be nothing more than a story in her own mind. What else could she do? She couldn’t live her life in the shadow of someone else, no matter how much she might have hurt for Evan.

  She stood and turned on the light, packed everything back into the box and folded the top back over, sealing it back up to push it all back into the past where it belonged. As she ran the tape along the join, she noticed something on the end of the counter—something which she hadn’t seen earlier in her rush to get into the box but which hadn’t been there the last time she’d come down to her darkroom. The handwriting on the gift tag stuck to the front of the large gift-wrapped rectangle was achingly familiar after reading the old love letters to Rose.

  Drawn to the addition, she lifted the card and read the back of it, which simply said, “I know you needed a new one.”

  She guessed it was the birthday present Evan had left for her on the night of her birthday party—a vague memory of him telling her he’d left his present down there playing in the back of her mind.

  Unable to swallow because her heart was lodged so firmly in her throat, she tore at the wrapping. Inside was a new light box for her darkroom.

  Her hands started to shake as she realized Evan had got her the perfect gift—something she needed but would never have purchased for herself, at least not while the old one was still working even a little. Her great-aunt had never been into photography, it wasn’t something they’d had in common. In fact, it was one of their stark differences.

  And yet, Evan had known Becca enough to find this perfect gift.

  Her stomach flipped and her heart lurched at the thought.

  It was proof that even though he’d said he loved her because he saw the soul of her great-aunt, he’d known Becca too. She’d kicked him out in the middle of some explanation.

  Was that what he was trying to tell me?

  She wanted to see him, to force him to explain how he knew the right gift to buy her, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to open that can of worms just yet. Instead, she raced around the space—her growling stomach long forgotten—set up the new light box, and then grabbed some of the negatives she’d developed but never printed.

  Although she hadn’t admitted it to anyone, Evan had a somewhat starring role on each roll she’d taken since the first time he’d appeared in her car. It was part of the reason she’d been reluctant to spend significant time printing the images while he was standing right next to her. She hadn’t wanted him to think that she was obsessed with him.

  Would he have confessed sooner if he’d known?

  Now that she was alone, now that the memory of their every moment together was all that she could think about, it was time she saw a tangible reminder of the time they’d shared.

  When the first image bloomed across the paper, one from their morning tousle in her bed, she saw his single dimple cut into his cheek in the image and she smiled in response to the reminder of his perfect grin. His eyes practically sparkled where they were focused on her behind the camera. Her stomach clenched when she saw the look in his gaze that she’d always assumed was a reflection of the way she and Drew felt for each other.

  Every look, every smile, every touch that they’d shared ran through her mind and, as it did, she made a rather startling discovery.

  Evan was almost disappointed at how easy his assignment had been. Instead of a few weeks’ worth of tracking and following to determine what his latest assignment wanted, he was confronted by a couple of best friends who were clearly meant for each other but who were both too afraid to take the first step.

  One evening, a broken heel, a torn shirt, and a spilled cocktail was all it took to push the two of them together. Evan wondered whether they were testing him; whether they wanted to see if he could handle the simplest of matches before giving him another harder one. He wouldn’t blame them if they were. After all he’d messed up royally with Becca—so royally that h
e’d lost his promotion, if that’s what moving on to whatever came next could be called.

  The sky was thick with clouds as he walked away from the newly formed couple. The little emotion boost from the assignment rushed through his veins, but it wasn’t enough to wipe out the effect of the heartache he felt over Becca as he made a silent request for the next name.

  Rebecca Lewis.

  There was a mistake.

  There had to have been a mistake.

  That it was an error was the only possible reason Evan could think of for that name coming back to the top of his list. Even if Becca and Drew weren’t off celebrating the fact that they were madly in love, there was no reason that those above should want Evan to help match her up again.

  “Try again,” he whispered, waiting for another new name as Becca’s floated away in his mind.

  Rebecca Lewis.

  “I can’t go back there,” he said, hoping he didn’t look completely crazy talking to himself. “She hates me.”

  The sky opened up on him, sending torrents of water rushing over him.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” he shouted at the sky. “Is this your doing too?”

  Rebecca Lewis.

  He kicked at a puddle in front of him. “That’s not an answer!”

  Rebecca Lewis.

  This time the name was accompanied by an ache that almost tore his heart in two. He fell to his knees at the same time as he released his mental hold on the rubber band-like presence of his connection with Becca, snapping him back to her side in an instant.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Becca was surrounded by Evan on all sides. She’d printed a significant portion of the photos she’d taken of him and even though she knew there were a number of them—at the time she hadn’t wanted him to simply disappear from her life without her having some proof he’d existed—she didn’t realize exactly how many there were until so many of them surrounded her. She’d been working hard for a solid hour and a half; she had to stop because she’d run out of surfaces to hang them all to dry. And she’d only barely scratched the surface.

  With everything going on, she’d almost forgotten how much she loved being in her darkroom. She was so completely engrossed in her task of cleaning up after her printing session, and singing at the top of her lungs like she usually did when she was alone in her space, that she didn’t hear the basement door open. The harsh overhead lights flooding the space silenced her song, and caused her to scream.

  “What are you doing down here in the dark?” Drew asked.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked at the same time.

  “You’ve seemed a little distracted lately,” Drew said. “And Dad told me you were the one who convinced him to roster me on so much because apparently I wanted the extra experience. I thought I should check on you and see if everything was all right. If we were all right.” There was a sorrowful edge to his voice that she wanted to erase.

  “Why are you down here though?” she asked as her heart began to return to normal speed.

  “I was worried about you when you didn’t answer the door.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly. She wanted to get Drew out of the darkroom though; she didn’t think he’d appreciate her latest photography project.

  Almost as if her thoughts had guided his gaze, he spotted the nearest picture. “Is that—is that Evan?”

  “Yeah, he was helping me with this project before he left.”

  “Project implies there’s a grand scheme, Becca. This is just you wasting your time.”

  And so we come back to this. With the echoes of the warnings Evan had issued Rose in his letters, Becca viewed Drew’s statements in a new light. She was sure he wouldn’t hurt her—he wasn’t a violent man—but that didn’t mean he was right for her.

  The contrast between the thoughtful gift which Evan had found for her—which proved that she meant more to him than just being a reminder of the one he’d loved before—and the impersonal one Drew had given her was so stark that it was impossible to ignore any longer. Maybe she’d told Evan to leave, maybe she’d never see him again, but that didn’t mean she could go on lying to herself that Drew was Mister Right. He wasn’t the one that she loved—she knew that know with no doubt in her mind.

  Even though she was certain there was someone out there who would be perfect for Drew, she’d realized just that afternoon that it wasn’t her. Her love for him had been second-hand, and everyone deserved more than that.

  I’m no better than Evan.

  “Are you in love with him?” Drew’s face was lined with hurt and confusion as he continued to stare at the photos.

  Becca knew there was no point denying it—she couldn’t even fool herself anymore. Somewhere along the way she’d fallen heart and soul for Evan, and she didn’t even know where he was. Even though she might not have been able to have the one she wanted, it wasn’t fair to Drew to expect him to be a substitute.

  “I’m sorry,” were the only words she could find when she opened her mouth.

  Becca could see the hidden heartbreak hovering just beneath the surface of Drew’s carefully constructed façade of calm.

  “We could have been so great together,” he said as a frown overtook his features.

  “We were.”

  He nodded. “I get it.” He placed the key Becca had given him down on the counter. “I’ll let myself out.”

  She wanted to ease his heartache, wanted to find some way through where no one needed to be hurt. “Drew, please—”

  He stopped and held up one hand. “Just let me go, Becca. It’s clear I’m not wanted here. I don’t want to waste time with someone who doesn’t want the same things I do.”

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. She knew she had no right to her sorrow, but she’d never intended to hurt anyone. Especially not Drew.

  “Maybe one day, I’ll accept that apology,” he muttered. “But right now, I just need to be away from all of this.” He waved his hands in the direction of Evan’s photos.

  Before Becca could say another word, he’d headed back up the stairs. A few seconds later she heard the front door slam loudly shut.

  “What have I done?” she asked the empty room as fresh tears rose to her eyes. She’d managed to push away the two guys she cared about most in just over a week. Her head sank onto the counter as she let her tears consume her, but snapped up again the second she heard the crash.

  Becca’s heart called out to Evan with such fierce need that he didn’t care what she’d asked. If she sent him packing again immediately, he’d leave, but he needed to see that she was unharmed first. Because her hurt was sapping his ability to move or think, and because he was so desperate to just get to her, he landed in her darkroom with a heavy thud. When he tried to right himself, he bumped into a stand holding photos left to dry.

  “Evan?” Becca gasped, no doubt taking in his slumped over form and soaking wet clothing.

  The weight that was on him lessened considerably in an instant as her concern for him overtook her agony. It doubled again when he wondered whether Becca deliberately minimized her hurt just so that he could leave.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I had to come. You’re in pain. So much pain.” He pushed aside his worry that he might be thrown out. Using all of his strength, he straightened himself until he was standing upright. Even though he was soaked, the water was the least of his concerns. Becca was his primary focus. When he took a second to look around the room though, he saw himself staring back at him from a number of angles. For a moment, he was too surprised to speak—or to even think.

  When he finally found his voice, he asked, “What is this?”

  “It’s a project.” Becca’s words were a reflex, but he was willing to let her try to convince him that’s what it was—especially if it meant that she wasn’t throwing him out again straight away like he’d feared.

  Her words drew his gaze to her. She looked terrible. Well, she lo
oked beautiful, but the ravages of sorrow and stress had played havoc on her face—her skin was red and blotchy, dark circles ran under her eyes, and her lower lip trembled as she looked at him.

  He spun on the spot, taking in all of the photos. It was a little disconcerting seeing himself from so many angles. Many of the photos were from places where he didn’t even realize she’d photographed him or times when he’d been certain that he’d seen a flash, but she’d denied it.

  He swallowed heavily. “What sort of project?”

  She frowned. “I didn’t want to lose you. For a while, I was worried that you might just disappear out of my life when I started seeing Drew. I see now why you didn’t.”

  “I think there might be more to it than either of us imagined,” he said, knowing that the suspicion he had was growing stronger by the minute.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When, well, when I first woke after, you know, I was offered a choice.”

  She nodded, he’d explained a little about that.

  “I chose to be a cupid because I was promised paradise if I did.”

  “So?”

  “So, I think you’re tied into it somehow. I don’t think I was sent to match you up with someone else, I think—” He couldn’t voice what he thought, how could he? The last time he’d tried to admit that he loved her, she’d sent him from her side.

  “You think this here, between us, is why you’re here?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m certain the answer is here at your side. I want you so badly it hurts, but I can’t do that to you. I know you think that I only want to be here because of Rose, but it’s not that. It’s really not.

  “I loved her so much, and it hurt like you wouldn’t believe to lose her. But it hurts more to be away from you, Becca.” He took a step closer to her, before stopping himself. It was like there was an invisible cord drawing him to her, a cord which he resisted with everything he was worth—he didn’t want to make any mistakes that might see him thrown out again. “Even though you share a soul, you’re a different person. I—I know that and, well, that’s what I wanted to tell you. I love you.”