Evie’s irises sparkled, and her pale complexion appeared even thanks to the cancelling effect of the contrast. The white backing reflected into her eyes to brighten the whites, and the green complimented her eyes as much as it did her red hair. Connie gathered her lengthy mane, gently pulling it back from her ears, bringing the temples into full view.
The next frame was a white semi-rimless with a thin arch that left her eyes looking bright, wide, and open. The lens swooped upwards to meet the temple post, drawing everything up along with it. They tied a light marbled blue arm on one side and a similar lavender on the other. It wasn’t an easy choice. Both complimented her equally.
Connie put her hair up again, this time directing her head from side to side to inspect his handiwork in the mirror. He stated laconically that she should wear both, just as it was now.
Evie yanked free of his grip, scolding the unreasonable suggestion. The Scot dodged a swat by enveloping her in his arms. With his chin beside her jaw, he admired her in the mirror, “It suits ya just fine, Evie.”
When she still wasn’t sure, he scolded her right back. He explained that adults lost their sense of creativity and fun as they aged. Children explored with abandon, losing this freedom as they grew, allowing themselves to be confined in little boxes constructed of social normalcies that were wholly irrelevant to the average person’s own happiness. He showed her again how the frame accentuated her, as she was, and Evie relented with a bemused smile.
Next, they picked the sunshine yellow with the deep ocean coloured temples that had her eyes seeming fathomless. Connie held her hips while they admired her reflection when a customer walked in. The Scot took a generously step backwards as Evie sped to greet the woman.
“Welcome to MC Eye Care,”
The woman turned out to be a friend of Donna’s, who had been inspired to stop in and look at the ‘new’ frames. The girl did not lose the chance to put Connie in the spotlight, introducing him as their in-house designer. Evie was pretty sure she heard molars grinding as Connie forced a smile. This frostiness was soon lost when the grey-haired woman began tittering over her reflection. His designs complimented mercilessly, as she fawned over him, and Evie watched him shed his inhibitions. The cloak of shame and defeat that had concealed his pride disappeared as he began to promote the frames the way he had to Evie in the flat. Connie was a natural salesman and his explicit knowledge of the frames, and the colours thrilled the patient.
Evelyn bought two pairs and promised to return with her daughter and grandson. When the door closed behind her, his large hands cupped her face as he planted a solid kiss on Evie’s mouth, triumphant as all hell—pride restored.
They kept Connie’s frames in a low cupboard close at hand. Despite Evie’s arguments, the Scot insisted Mara would never allow his designs on the frame boards. Yet by the end of the week, the two had made another twenty-five sales, eleven of which were Connie’s frames. The boost even had Mara acting less self-absorbed. Connie was a new man, hardly recognizable to the dreary, argumentative, ghost that haunted the shop when she had arrived.
A few days later, Evie received more good news. A call from the airport reported that her luggage had been found! The two enjoyed a day trip by train to Glasgow and retrieved them, fitting in more sightseeing and enjoying one another’s company away from the store. Everything was starting to go her way.
The Scotsmen could hardly keep his hands off her. Evie relished the chaste lunchroom kisses, the subtle backside pinches behind the reception desk, and the fiery backroom snogs when the store was empty. She was quickly learning that the Gaelic god liked to take the risk, and Evie couldn’t say no to him. She just couldn’t.
Even though Evie knew she should, that their behaviour in the store was downright shameful, she could never raise the nerve to even consider uttering the word. Never in her life had she felt such blissful oblivion! Any thought of protest was halted by the hot desire that blossomed in the wake of his ravishing kisses.
Now was no different. In one smooth maneuver, the Scot had her up on the workspace in the back lab, those hands holding her captive, as his hungry mouth claimed hers with kisses that were as passionate as they were greedy. Her insides coiled, squirming with a sinful delight that left her breathless.
Resisting was just a thought that blipped in and out of her conscious mind, like a notification on her phone, quickly swiped out of sight. Evie was swept away by the crushing ecstasy of his moan against her lips. She answered his hunger with need of her own, her fingers finding purchase in the tangle of his soft dark curls. They panted against one another, two lovers lost in the consumption of their addiction, bodies arching and meeting and repeating in perfect synchronization.
Connie’s hands left the back of her head, racing down the length of her sides in tantalizing rake that rounded her back and found purchase around the round firmness of her round rear. A breathy gasp escaped her, Evie angled towards that descending mouth, making her demands clear to him. His head lifted from the cleft of her collar bone as Evie moaned with pleasure. The Gaelic god’s bristles rasped against the side of her head, his mouth nipping at the shell of her ear, as he playfully chided, “Now, now, lass…you’ll have the neighbours clyping.”
The neighbours would be gossiping if he didn’t stop it. The walls between the stores were lacking. Evie was sure if she could hear the drycleaners midday soaps that they, in turn, had heard at least some of their foray. She felt guilty, but it pleased her in an oddly satisfying way. She had never been teased into such a frenzy before. Her raucous moaning surprised even her, but the whole affair left her so enraptured that she didn’t spare a moments thought to feeling apprehensive about it.
A beep from the front of the store made them both stiffen. Connie’s every muscle was taut, reluctant to let her go. Her hands came up his forearms, her fingers applying gentle pressure, persuading him back. He begrudgingly obeyed. Their eyes met. The moment seemed to last a millennium. When he finally tore his gaze away from her, it was with a violence that belied the heat exchanged between them prior. He rushed out of the back lab, straightening his dark shirt.
Hearing his voice mingling with a feminine tone, reality came crashing back. Evie jumped down off the counter as lightly as she could, escaping into the washroom. Behind the closed door, she was able to finally breathe again. Her chest heaved, as though she had forgotten the basic human necessity while she was lost in the time warp created whenever the Scot kissed her.
The redhead heard a titter of feminine laughter that had her adjusting her clothes and flattening her roughed hair while she tried to calm her breathing.
Evie rushed out and was met in the doorway by Connie, who gestured to the storefront and informed her, “Donna is here to pick up her glasses.”
His eyes said so much more than that, but she had to focus on the patient.
“Donna, how nice to see you again? Are you excited to finally pick up your glasses?”
“I can’t wait!” the woman exclaimed, face beaming. “I’ve been telling everyone how wonderful they are.”
“That’s great,”
The glasses fit better than Evie could have expected. They adjusted quickly, the laminate arms giving beneath the heat of the bead pan and her measured pressure, to contour to Donna’s skull perfectly. Connie watched eagerly as she worked, standing close by making small talk with the woman. He had this smug curl to the corner of his mouth that made his eyes crinkle ever so slightly, making it hard for Evie to relieve herself of the heat that their passionate romp in the backroom had left her skin flushed with.
She wasn’t sure if he was still cocky about having her up on the counter beside Tracy and Edgar or if he was just damn proud once more to see a patient so thoroughly enjoying his creation. It was the not knowing that made it hard to concentrate.
Thankfully Donna did not seem to notice that Evie felt a little off or that her hands still trembled slightly as she slid the glasses on and off again. The nurse was delightfull
y regaling the in-house designer with the excitement upon finding the hidden box of gems.
The redhead finished the last adjustment, satisfied with her work, and handed the frame back to Donna. The woman slid them on and took her time adoring her new look in the small mirror at the dispensing table. Her mouth pursed as she appraised herself, her eyes sparkling with an enchanting delight that was addicting.
“You look amazing,” Evie emphasized, handing the woman a small bag with her case and eyeglass essentials.
Donna’s cheeks flushed, and her thrilled smile was infectious.
The door chimed again as Mara walked in.
“And it’s all thanks to the two of you’s,” Donna implored as she came to her feet.
Mara’s graceful strides came to a stop near the group, a sweet curve to her mouth, as she inquired, “Happy with your glasses?”
“Oh, aye.” Donna turned to her, smiling fondly, “Evie has found me the perfect pair.”
Mara’s eyes widened dramatically as she took in the frame, yet she saved face like a champ. Her eyes narrowed with a smile as she sweetly intoned, “I’m so glad we were able to accommodate you. You look gorgeous.”
Donna gave Evie and the designer a satisfied grin before she waved and headed for the door. “I will think about that second pair,” she warned with a coy smirk, “It’s very tempting.”
“Anytime, Donna,” Evie replied, “I have all the information on the computer, so even if you can’t make it down, you can always just give me a call, and I can get them started.”
As the door closed and Evie turned back to the dispensing table, she suddenly noticed that the two owners’ were engaged in a silent, but deadly, staring contest. Her stomach iced over, forcing her to disengage. The optician swept away with the tray to the reception desk, busying herself with closing the work order.
Mara’s sharp voice cut the air first, like the crack of a rifle, “What was that?”
Connie’s voice was defensive, attempting to undercut her superiority with an insulting parry, “Can ya no’ see for yerself?”
“Who sold that frame?” Mara insisted, more peevish than the last.
Evie looked up from where she sat. The woman’s face was severe. Her dark eyes seemed pitch, as her jaw muscles bulged, and her chest heaved. This situation was a keg of gun powder waiting to explode, and they had a full afternoon of scheduled exams.
“I did,” Evie said, as poignantly as she could manage.
The optician’s resolve nearly melted under the optometrist’s heated gaze. The scrutiny present in that look was piercing, running her through. It made her breath hitch, threatened to make her crumble, and somehow in the face of it, her own anger began to well. She felt her own chin raised in defiance, the frames on her bridge as much a crime as the other, in full view of Mara’s rage.
“I sold the frame,” Evie repeated stolidly.
“Where did you find them?” Mara snapped, her words fiery—uncharacteristically unhinged and undirected.
“Does it matter?” Connie tried to interject.
Mara’s head spun back to the man she used to call ‘husband.’ Her arms crossed over her chest, fingers like claws as she encapsulated the fury that roiled off her in shock waves. Evie felt struck by the heat and rage she cast as the optician straightened her spine and refused to shrink away.
The ex’s exchanged a silent argument, words, swears and demands passed between their locked eyes like skewering daggers, intent on dangerously maiming the another. Connie’s stance was open and fierce, his chest puffed, and his hackles raised in full confrontation against her. Mara’s eyes were darkly intense, but no longer pitch with hatred—Evie saw only pain, unspoken, unshared, and raw. Seeing it made the girl feel intrusive, placing her where she had tried to avoid—firmly between them.
Mara finally broke the tension-ridden silence. Her sharp voice cut through like a hacking machete in a jungle thick with past burdens, prior feuds, and unfinished business. “I thought you said you weren’t going to put them out?”
The redhead felt slapped again, and she wasn’t sure why. The comment had been aimed at her counterpart—the man she had struggled so hard to convince to sell his own product—and yet Evie’s cheeks felt hot. The frame she wore that had been so weightless and carefree, now felt like an anchor, drawing her gaze to the floor.
This was more than a disagreement between ex’s. It was a deep dark chasm, far more bottomless and blacker than the Mariana Trench, where they had buried their lost passions and their stripped feelings for one another. Evie had just resurfaced that pain, that regret, all their caustic intransigent views. She felt ashamed to have come between them, especially when common sense had predicted such a tumultuous outcome.
Then a new thought struck Evie.
Had she really made a mistake? She had given Connie the conviction to pursue his passion and had restored his pride through it. What did she have to feel guilty for? This boil between the exes was going to burst at some point. She did not need to bear the full weight of its acidic puss when it was their acrimonious quarrelling that allowed it to fester into such a monstrosity. It was better lanced than left to grow uglier.
Evie saw Connie’s head sink, the rigidness of his spine giving, and she rushed to his aid. “I did this. I found the frames. I sold them.” Evie asserted, explaining without inhibition, “I’ve sold eleven of them this week alone, for $400 apiece. That’s more money in one week than the store made last month. I’m sorry, but I fail to see how this is an issue?”
Disdain twisted Mara’s pain-ridden features, as she waspishly snapped, “You have no idea, Evangeline, what you’ve—”
Connie cut his ex-wife off, brusquely moving past her. “Leave off her, Mara. This is between you and me. Yer office. Now.”
Mara gave a resigned scoff, glancing askance at Evie, before following. The office door slammed, leaving Evie dizzy. Her nerve endings sizzled, leaving her physically weak and mentally exhausted. She moved mechanically behind the reception desk, plopping down into the chair. She wasn’t spared a reprieve. Their muffled shouting broke through the thin office walls, savage and violent in intensity.
The optician tried to shake herself of the ordeal, busying herself at the computer the day's exam schedule. The schedule was packed. Seventeen appointments, a patient every fifteen minutes, with only two breaks for the next five hours. As the quarrelling escalated in the other room, so did her anxiety.
Evie grabbed the remote for the music player and switched the channel to upbeat dance music, hoping the bass would drown out the shouting. She increased the volume as high as she dared, as the door chimed behind her.
Too late.
The optician greeted their first patient, with a too-generous smile. It was a young mother, with three boys in tow—7, 5, and 3—the littlest on his mother’s hip. She greeted Evie exhaustedly, struggling to get her wallet out of a bag that bulged with kid’s supplies.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Willoughby,” Evie said comfortingly, “I already have all of your information on file and ready to go. If we’re missing anything, we can get it from you after the exam.”
“My husband will be by later,” she reminded Evie, as she switched the boy to the other hip as he started to cry.
“We can get everything from him then.” The girl assured the mother as they noticed the other two boys were already trying on frames and laughing wildly at one another.
“Johnny! Column! Put those down, they’re not for playin’ with!” the young mother cried, plaintively appealing to the boys to behave, as she waddled over with the other youngster still on her hip.
Evie was thankful that the mother was distracted. The girl used this time to grab their files and head to the office door. Even after she knocked the shouts rang out. They were unclear but still punctuated with infinitives like, ‘You always…!’ or ‘You never…!’
Evie knocked harder, and the voices finally ceased. The door was wrenched open, Mara’s cheeks blotched and damp wi
th a light skim of perspiration. “What?” she demanded, her jaw clenched.
Connie’s gaze was averted. He was leaned back on the counter, arms crossed, his curls obscuring half his face. Evie met Mara’s gaze, handing her the files, “Your first patients have arrived, Dr. Sinclair.”
Mara straightened the front of her red blazer, as she took the files. “Thank you, Evangeline,” she said, her voice calm, even if breathy, “I will take them in a minute.”
Evie left, hearing Connie march out after her. She did not have to look to know that he had used the back door. She sighed with disappointment. Selling and managing the front would be all up to her now.
Evie was on the dead run, juggling greeting patients, helping with frame choices, interpreting prescriptions needs, taking payment, and answering the phone. Despite being spread too thin, the day still ended on a high note. Evie had sold to fourteen of the seventeen patients, all the patients with an updated prescription. It was a triumph, one of the best days that year.
It was still soured by the morning confrontation.
Mara escaped the minute the exams were finished, her exit unapologetic. Evie was left to end the day alone, which kept her well past closing. When she finally arrived home, not even Serena’s chipper salutations could pique a smile out of her.
“Who shat it yer porridge?” Serena groused, as Evie zombie-walked past her and out on the deck.
Evie flopped into one of the deck chairs and closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh air. It was salty and damp and cleared her head of all the jumbled thoughts that were knotted together. Serena invaded the solace five minutes later, and Evie accepted the hot mug of tea. She had never met someone that could make a warm mug of hugs like Serena.
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