by Leah Atwood
A few more minutes. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a banana to snack on while he waited. Took a shower on the off chance she would call even though it had been more than an hour.
After two hours, he started to worry. It wasn’t like Janie to not have her phone nearby. Did he call again? Stop by her house? He didn’t want to be pushy or overbearing, but if something were wrong, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he didn’t check on her.
He settled on sending her a text. Lord, please let Janie be fine.
His phone still rested in his hands, his eyes staring, waiting, when the screen lit with an incoming call.
“Hi.” He cut himself off from rushing to ask if she was okay.
“Hi.” She sounded chipper, not distressed or upset with him for any reason. “Sorry I missed your call earlier. I decided to paint the guest room and left my phone in the kitchen. I didn’t realize how late it was until I saw the sun setting.”
Thank You, Lord, for keeping her safe, and restoring her independence. “Did you get my message?”
“No. I saw you called then saw your text and didn’t want you to worry.” The sound of running water came from her side of the call. “What’s up?”
“Have you eaten yet? I need a break from studying.”
“I haven’t. What did you have in mind?”
“Mexican? Italian?” His body had used the sustenance from the banana already. “I’m good with anything.”
“Who all is going?”
He grimaced—she’d started the dance he’d wanted to avoid. “Just you and me.”
“Oh.”
“No funny stuff, I promise.”
“I don’t know.” The hesitation in her voice hurt.
Man, he missed her. “Please?”
“One condition.”
“Whatever you want.” Desperation leaked into his tone, and he prayed she didn’t pick up on it.
“We talk about what happened over Christmas.”
Her words slammed into him. Anything but that. Though maybe it would help get them back on track. “All right. Where do you want to go?”
“There’s a new hibachi place that opened last week. How about that?”
The suggestion surprised him. Not only would the restaurant be packed because of its newness, but hibachi didn’t lend itself to a private conversation—they were guaranteed to be sat around the grill with another party or two. However, he could already taste the salmon and fried rice. “Sounds good.”
“Give me a half hour to wash the paint off my face and get ready. Want me to meet you there?”
“I can pick you up.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
His nerves tangled into knots. She’d thrown him off guard with her request, and question after question ran through his mind. Did she want to clear the air between them so they could be friends again? Maybe she had feelings for him … maybe she didn’t need him anymore—even as a friend. Whoa. He cut off his thoughts before he went crazy. Wondering had no purpose except to give him a headache. He’d find out soon enough.
He went to his bedroom and examined the clothes hanging in his closet. Nothing jumped out at him. Anything too nice or too casual and he might give off the wrong impression. Finally, he settled on a navy rugby shirt with gold stripes, and a pair of fitted jeans. His short haircut didn’t offer many options for styling, so he simply ran a comb through it to flatten the few strands out of place.
Thoughts of Janie stayed with him on the drive to her house. More than anything he wanted back their easy camaraderie. The emotional distance between them left a gaping hole in his life.
Five minutes shy of the thirty she’d asked for, Evan parked in her driveway. He took a deep breath before walking to the door.
She greeted him with a cautious smile. “You’re early. Come in and wait while I find a pair of shoes.”
Her appearance stunned him. She’d gotten a haircut and added layers that made her hair bounce. Don’t think about running your hands through it. She wore a pair of skinny jeans and a sheer black top with white and pink flowers. Her outfit captured his attention, but what she didn’t wear stole the breath from his lungs.
She’d removed her wedding band. Because she’d been painting, or because she’d decided to move on? Would she tell him why? She left the room and returned a minute later wearing a pair of black ankle boots. “I’m ready.”
“How are your classes?” she asked once they hit the road.
“Good, except econ.”
“Didn’t Kate major in business? Maybe she could help.”
He laughed. “Yes, and I already thought of her, but her focus was on the human resources end. Besides, she’s been suffering from terrible morning sickness, and I don’t want to bother her.”
“She mentioned that yesterday when I talked to her. Most women don’t suffer as much in the second trimester, but she said it’s hit her worse now than in earlier stages.”
The communication between Kate and Janie shouldn’t have surprised him. They’d hit it off, but now he wondered if they’d had any conversations about him. Considering Kate had brought up Janie multiple times, he already knew the answer. “You know it’s bad when she’s had to miss work.”
“Have you heard from Jared since he left?”
“No. They weren’t allowed to take phones on this exercise.”
“I hated those trainings.” Janie wrinkled her nose. “Mike snuck his phone on the last one and would call me at night.”
“Until he got caught.” Evan glanced at her, realized she’d had no idea. “The last call cost him an extra twenty-mile hike in full equipment.”
“That explains why he didn’t call me at all the last week you guys were there. He never told me.”
“Probably didn’t want you to feel guilty on his behalf.” Stopped at a red light, he looked at her and saw a speck of paint in her hair. “You decided on sage green for the room?”
She arched a brow. “How did you know?”
“You have some in your hair.”
Her hands flew to her head and patted it. “Oh goodness. Where? How bad is it?”
“Barely noticeable.” He chuckled at her frantic reaction and pointed to the spot. “Smaller than a breadbox.”
“Very funny.” She lowered the visor and flipped open the mirror. Peered into it, then used her fingertips to scrape the paint. “Is that any better?”
Since he was driving again, he only gave her hair a cursory glance. “If I didn’t know what I was looking for, I wouldn’t know it was there at all.”
“Good.”
As expected, the restaurant was packed. He saw the line waiting outside before he entered the parking lot. “Do you mind waiting?”
“No. If the word around town is to be believed, it’s well worth the wait.”
Thanks to an exceptionally large parking lot, he found a space without circling. Opening the door, he sniffed. “I can smell the butter and salt from here.”
Janie grinned. “That’s what makes it amazing.”
He added their names to the list and settled in for the forty-minute wait. “How’s the apartment working out for your sisters?”
“Surprisingly well. As part of the agreement with my parents, Julie and Jessie have to pay their own utilities, so it’s teaching them responsibility.”
“That’s good.” He thought about the twins’ age—only four years younger than his twenty-four years. “Do you ever feel older than your age? Your sisters seem so much younger than us, but there’s not much of a difference.”
“I know what you mean, and I’ve thought about it, too.” She waved a hand in a circular motion. “You and I, and probably half the people in here have more life experience than most our age, that likely adds a decade to us.”
“Would you do it all over again, knowing how it would turn out?” As soon as the question came out, he could have kicked himself. Not exactly light dinner conversation.
The question didn’t faze her, a testament to the strengt
h she’d found in recent months. “Without a doubt. Some people live their whole lives never experiencing the love Mike and I had. Sharing six years of marriage with him was worth the heartbreak at the end.”
His gaze drifted to her ring finger again. “You took it off?”
A bittersweet aura hovered over her. “It’s in my jewelry box. The decision wasn’t easy, but I finally realized that removing the ring doesn’t diminish what I shared with him, rather, it helps me establish my new life without clinging to the old.”
“If I haven’t told you yet, I’m really proud of you.” Hesitantly, he gave her hand a squeeze. “Your transformation this year has been remarkable.”
“It’s a day-by-day process.” Her eyes shifted downward and looked at his hand still on hers, but she didn’t pull away.
Neither did he, for a reason he knew too well but refused to accept.
Chapter Twelve
She knew better than to let Evan’s hand stay on hers, but she missed him. More than she should. As Kate had predicted, not talking about the kiss had interfered with her and Evan’s friendship. They’d barely seen each other since Christmas, a drastic change from when they’d spent several days a week together.
Yet the time apart had made her realize she cared for him, and that maybe—just maybe—she could open her heart to love again. What she’d told Evan while they waited for a seat was true. She didn’t regret marrying Mike, and would still have married him, even if she’d known how soon he would die. By that same logic, why should she shy away from a potential relationship with Evan?
Life was too short to make decisions based on fear. She might get hurt again, but she also might find years of joy ahead of her.
Every time she thought about telling Evan her feelings, she froze. She’d picked up her phone to call him many times over the last several weeks, but chickened out each time.
When he’d called earlier that evening, he was giving her that opportunity, but she’d still hesitated. They needed to have a serious talk, but making herself vulnerable scared her. What if his feelings didn’t match hers, and she set herself up for disappointment? It’s a risk you know you must take.
She moved her hand from his. The light touch affected her in ways that clouded her thinking. Let them get through the meal first, then they’d talk.
They were called to a table and sat on two end seats of an eight-person setting. A family celebrating a child’s birthday filled the remaining six chairs.
“What are you getting?” All the menu choices sounded good, and she couldn’t decide.
Evan hadn’t even opened the menu. “Salmon. As soon as you suggested coming here, I knew what I wanted.”
“I thought about shrimp, but they give a few as an appetizer.” Enjoying food after a year of not tasting anything she ate was a marvelous part of the healing process. “It’s narrowed down to steak or chicken.”
“Do they have a combination option?”
She scanned the menu. “Yes.”
“There you go.” His crooked grin warmed her spirit.
They placed their orders, and soon their chef came to the table wearing a tall hat and pushing a cart loaded with ingredients. He performed a juggling act with the utensils before scraping a large square of butter from a bowl and tossing it on the grill.
Good thing I don’t eat like this all the time.
The entertainment continued with a flaming onion and more demonstrations of skills with the utensils. Their lively environment provided neutral territory, and she and Evan fell into their easy friendship. For the length of the meal, she forgot about everything except enjoying time with her friend.
Too soon the meal ended. They returned to Evan’s car and sat silently for a span of several seconds. She didn’t have to remind Evan about her condition of acceptance. He’d keep his word.
He traced a finger along the inside rim of the steering wheel. “Do you want to go back to your house and talk?”
“That’s fine.”
They didn’t talk on the drive there, saving their words for the conversation to come. Her garage and porch lights automatically turned on when he pulled in the driveway. She removed her keys from her purse, ready to unlock the door and get this over with.
She’d desperately wanted to sort out their issues, but now that the time had come, her nerves twisted into a rat’s nest of anxiety.
“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked after turning on the lights.
“I’m good, thanks.” His weight shifted to his good leg.
She’d noticed he’d been limping since they left the restaurant. “We can go in the living room.” Sitting on the right end of the sofa, she offered him the left side where the ottoman was.
“Thanks.” Once he lowered himself to the seat, he propped his leg on the ottoman, a touch of frustration evident in his taut facial muscles.
Compassion struck her. “We can do this another night.” When you’re not hurting.
“No, tonight’s good.” His jaw twitched. “We’ve put this off too long.”
The clock ticked. She should have gotten rid of it years ago, but, for whatever reason, Mike had loved it. The second hand made a full revolution, then another.
Evan adjusted the collar of his shirt. “On second thought, a glass of water would be nice.”
“I’ll get it.” She jumped to her feet, too eager to delay the talk.
She pulled two tumblers from the cabinet and pressed them against the spout of the refrigerator’s ice dispenser, then water spout. Carrying them into the living room, she attempted to think of conversation starters but came up dry.
Evan reached for a glass, drank a sip, then set it on the end table beside him. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” After she had sat down, she took a throw pillow and hugged it on her lap.
“Where do we start?”
“I don’t know.” A nervous laugh bubbled from her chest. “I’ve never had this kind of conversation before.”
“Me either.” He lowered his leg, then shifted to face her. “All I know is, I miss what we had.”
“So do I.”
“Tonight was nice. Almost like old times.” His tone begged for consensus.
“Yes, it was.” She absently wrapped the pillow’s tag around her finger. “But then we’re here, and it’s not.”
He sighed and leaned into the sofa’s corner. “We can’t be more than friends, but how do we return to friends?”
His declaration shattered her confidence, but she covered it with agreement. “Anything beyond friendship would never work for us.”
“Why not?”
What in the world? She stopped herself short of throwing her arms up in the air. “You said it first.”
“But it doesn’t mean that’s what I want.” He flexed his jaw. “It just means that’s how it has to be.”
“You’re not making sense.”
Hands curled into tight fists. “I care for you. I tried hard to deny it to myself and everyone around us, but our time together in Louisiana convinced me. And it wasn’t the kisses—those were only confirmation of what I’d already figured out.”
“And I care for you, too. I didn’t want to, fought hard to change my feelings, but they wouldn’t go away.” She set the pillow aside, and tucked her feet under her to face him fully. “If we both want more than friendship, what are we running from?”
Evan swallowed, and turned toward her too. “Mike was my best friend. He asked me to take care of you, not fall in love.”
The confusion lifted. “I see.”
“Do you?” His fists clenched tighter. “Getting involved with you would be the ultimate betrayal of my friendship with Mike.”
Hadn’t she argued the same concept with herself many times? “Mike is dead, and he’s not coming back.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” He flinched at the anger in his tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”
“Mike wouldn’t want me to spend the rest
of my life alone, and I can’t help thinking if he had handpicked a man to come into my life after him, it would be one of his best friends.”
“It’s not fair. He should be here with you. What right do I have to be with you?”
“I always thought Mike was my future, but that’s not how life worked out. I’ve had to accept that he is my past, and the future is not guaranteed. All I have is now.” She scooted onto the middle cushion and put her hands on his shoulders. “This is now, Evan. You and me. We can embrace it to its fullest—or risk living with regret.”
Drawing on every bit of strength and will she possessed, she moved her hands upward and cradled his face. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t want this? That even now, you’re not remembering how powerfully our kisses affected you? That you don’t honestly see a future between us?”
His gaze burned into her. “I can’t.”
“Then what next? The ball’s in your court.”
Lowering his head, his mouth lingered a hair’s width from hers. “This.”
***
Evan couldn’t think straight. For all his excuses and reasons why he shouldn’t date Janie, none of them made sense right now. He was on an emotional high from her declaration of affection and hearing the passion with which she spoke.
She was officially his Janie as he’d thought of her for months, but didn’t think he’d had the right. And they’d sealed it with a kiss.
Fear had no place among them. She’d given him the words he’d needed to release any guilt about falling for his best friend’s gal.
But you had other reasons. His conscience kept trying to ruin his moment of joy.
He didn’t want reminders pressing on him of why a relationship couldn’t work. They needed time to ease into this—and then he’d tell her, before they got in too deep.
Too late for that.
“Shut up.”
Janie jerked her head back. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”
He growled under his breath, not realizing he’d spoken out loud. “That was supposed to be a silent reprimand to my conscience.”
“Huh?”
“I’m an idiot.” He hit his head against the sofa cushion. “My mind keeps repeating that phrase that goes something like, if it seems too good to be true, it probably is.”