by Anya Sharpe
“What are you doing, Evan?”
“Did I hear what you said over there,” he gestures back at the table, “correctly?”
“Um, I don’t know what you heard.” Play dumb. Good plan.
“The video, Erynne. You saw some video of him and that slut having sex?” Evan’s gritting his teeth so hard, I expect to see enamel shavings on the floor.
Blushing violently, I nod yes.
“Jesus.”
“Evan…”
“Where did you see this video? At his apartment?”
“Yeah. It was on the screen. I touched the keyboard and it appeared. I pushed play. I wish I hadn’t. He walked in on Maya and I while we were watching. There was so much…stuff there.” I inhale unsteadily, and the words continue to tumble out. My voice breaks. “He had her over a bench. Tied down. Beating her. She loved it.” My head falls into Evan’s chest as I silently sob, grateful his body is hiding me from the rest of the bar and our coworkers. “I can’t get it out of my head.”
He runs a hand down my back, soothing. “I want to kill that fucker.”
Despite his anger on my behalf, he nudges my chin with his thumb, tilting my head up until our eyes meet, then wipes away my tears. His whole expression and voice changes, becoming kind and compassionate. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“Why…why are you calling me ‘sweetheart’?”
He squeezes his eyes closed for a few seconds before answering. “Because I have to.” When he reopens them, he says nothing, simply pulls out his wallet, sets cash for our drinks on the bar, and walks out of Fielding’s.
Later, I settle into bed with a book I likely won’t be able to concentrate on. All I can do is stare up at the ceiling and replay the night’s events until my phone dings with a text.
Derrick: Hey, sorry dinner didn’t go well. I meant everything I said. Especially the part about loving you.
Me: OK.
Derrick: Um, I need some things. Clothes and stuff. Can I come by tomorrow evening?
I don’t want him coming by, but I’m not a bitch. The guy left with practically nothing.
Me: Sure. Is six OK?
Derrick: Yeah. Thanks, babe.
Inside my head, I scream, “Stop calling me babe!”
****
“You’ve looked at your watch about six times in the last ten minutes. It’s only four-thirty. Got someplace to be tonight?”
I debate what to say. For some reason, Evan has become very protective of me lately. I can’t decide if I like that or not. I simply can’t figure it out. Of course, I can’t seem to figure out much in my life these days, either. Except maybe what to wear to work, and some days even that’s a tough call, mainly, because I’ve lost weight. Many of my favorite outfits don’t fit well. Eating is more of a chore than a pleasure, and nothing tastes appealing.
“Derrick’s coming over at six to get clothes and stuff.” I stare down at the papers in front of me and realize my hand is shaking. Why does the mere thought of Derrick make me so jittery?
Evan leans back in his chair. “Will Maya be there with you?”
“No. She has a dinner thing at her parent’s house tonight. I didn’t even bother to ask her.”
Silence.
I might as well get home and mentally prepare myself to see Derrick again. I’m so tired, I could sleep for a week. I have no energy.
As I stand, the whole room begins to swirl. I reach for the edge of the table, but miss it and begin to tilt backward. Familiar strong hands catch me from behind, easing me into the chair.
“What the hell, Erynne? What’s going on?” Evan crouches in front of me, cupping my chin in his hand.
“I…I dunno. I suddenly felt really dizzy.” I blink hard several times to chase the wooziness away.
Evan studies me from head to toe, frowning. “Are you eating well? You’ve lost weight.”
“I guess so.”
“What have you eaten today? You’ve had a lot of coffee, but I haven’t seen you eat.”
“Um…” I have no clue what, if anything, I’ve eaten today. After last night, I’ve been too distracted.
“Breakfast?”
“Um…nooo.”
“What about lunch?”
“I think I forgot lunch.” I whisper, embarrassed by the admission.
“How much dinner did you eat with Derrick last night?” He’s staring at me so hard I half expect his head to explode.
“A bite or two. Maybe.”
“Jesus, woman…” Evan leaps to his feet, scrubbing his hands over his face and tugging them through his hair. I giggle because I’ve never seen him mess his hair up like that before.
He spins around and leans in close to me.
“This is not funny. You are not taking care of yourself. You can’t let this happen.”
Not wanting to admit why I was laughing, I revert to what I hope is a remorseful expression and mutter, “sorry.”
Evan whips out his phone and places an order for food to be delivered to my apartment in thirty minutes. An odd buzzing, like a swarm of gnats, has invaded in my head, so I can’t make out what he ordered.
“Get your stuff. We’re leaving.” He grabs his keys from a drawer, then tugs me into my office. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s upset. “Purse…whatever you need. Get it.”
“Geez. You don’t need to do this, Evan. I’m quite capable of…” Fumbling around in my desk, I extract my purse and glance up in time to meet his stare.
“You can’t be serious. You haven’t eaten anything of substance in more than twenty-four hours, you nearly passed out in my office, and you’re upset at your dickhead husband. I’m making sure you get home, eat something, and are safe when said dickhead shows up.” His hand goes to my back, and he nudges me out the door to the elevator, muttering under his breath. “If we’re all lucky, I won’t pound him into next week.”
I start to say something, and he glares at me.
“Don’t say it. Just get in the elevator.”
Chapter Twenty
Evan
I couldn’t even speak to Erynne during the ride to her apartment. I’m not actually angry at her. She’s upset because her life is being run through a blender right now, so she’s not making good choices. Such as remembering to eat. I mostly hate the whole situation she’s in and frustrated because I can’t make it better.
With perfect timing, the delivery guy meets us in the lobby. I pay him, and we take the food up.
“Go put something comfortable on, and I’ll get the food on the table.” It’s an effort to keep my tone easy-going. She doesn’t need another asshole barking at her today.
I remove my jacket and tie before setting out the dishes and food. Rolling up the sleeves of my white dress shirt, I search the fridge for wine and find a bottle of Chardonnay. While I’m pouring two glasses, Erynne returns from her bedroom in frumpy, faded gray sweats and a ratty pink T-shirt, looking like a fucking goddess.
“Let’s get some food into you, Miss America,” I joke.
She rolls her eyes at me, tries a bite of panang chicken curry, and groans loudly. “Mmm. My favorite Thai dish. How did you know?”
All I can do is stare at her gastronomical ecstasy for a few moments, because between the moan and the expression on her face, I’m now fantasizing about what she’ll look like underneath me when I make her come apart. When. Not if. I’m in serious trouble here.
I come to my senses, and manage an answer. “You told me once when we were deciding on lunch.”
“Hmm. I did?” She shrugs and spears a forkful of Pad See Ew. Again, I’m treated to the sound of her pleasure, only to wish I personally were the cause of it.
Don’t go there, Evan.
“God, this is marvelous. I guess I was pretty hungry. Thank you, Ace.” I’m blessed with her bright smile, and dig in, too.
The food is superb, but more than anything, it’s good to see her eating. Actually, she’s packing it away. In under five minutes,
her plate is clean and her wine glass empty. She sits back with a satisfied grin and rubs her belly.
“I feel so much better.”
“Don’t do that again. You scared the crap outta me,” I say, taking my last bites.
Dammit, I could get used to sharing a meal with her. Every night.
Again, dangerous territory, man…
A knock on the door reminds me of the reason we’re here. Fuck. I forgot all about Dickhead. This ought to be fun, because I’m sure he’ll be ever so happy to see me here in his apartment with his wife.
I brace myself as Erynne opens the door.
“Hey, babe. Thanks for letting me stop by…” He leans in to place a kiss on her cheek when his gaze lands smack on me. The temperature in the room drops by close to twenty degrees.
Yep. He’s pretty pissed. Honestly, I would be too, if I were him.
“What the hell is this jack-ass doing here again?”
“What? You’re not happy to see me?” Yeah, a shitty thing to say, but it amuses me to push Dickhead’s buttons.
“Not really. What are you doing here? Alone with my wife.”
I ignore the “my wife” part of the statement. “Eating dinner. She was hungry. Hadn’t eaten since dinner with you last night.”
“All right, you two. Cut it out. Derrick, not that it’s your business, but I asked Evan to join me for dinner to thank him for helping me out with something awkward at the office today. And, honestly, I didn’t want to be alone with you. Why don’t you go ahead and get whatever you need.”
The near lie about why I’m here is impressive.
“You’re afraid to be alone with me? Are you kidding?” He’s incredulous. “Babe, I wouldn’t hurt you.”
Aside from the fact that he actually has hurt her, I kind of feel sorry for the guy. He’s fucked up so royally he can’t crawl his way out of the steaming pile of shit he’s created. Regret is carved into his face.
“Fuck…” He mutters as he wanders off into the bedroom.
Erynne flops back down in the dining room chair and refills her wine glass, silently sipping.
“Hey, babe, have you seen my leather jacket? I thought it was in the closet, but I can’t find it.” He returns to the living room holding a stack of T-shirts and scowls at me.
It’s weird to be here. The conversation is so normal—at least his side. It’s like being a fly on the wall in some random couple’s happy life. Unfortunately, this is none of that. And I really wish he’d quit calling her “babe.” She cringes every time he does. So do I, because I want the privilege of calling her “babe,” as childish as that sounds.
“Try your office. It was on your chair when I was searching the file cabinets for…um…”
“What were you looking for when you found the keys to the apartment?” His tone is soft, but he’s clearly curious. Me too, frankly.
“I was trying to find the lease on our apartment. I wanted to know how much longer we had in case…you know…” The words come out quietly and sadly before drifting off. Derrick’s mouth opens and closes. He nods, turns, and disappears into another room, returning with his jacket.
“February.”
“What?”
“The lease expires in February.” He goes into the bedroom, and is back in a few minutes with two duffel bags.
My heart is breaking for Erynne. I’m not finding any joy at all in watching this unfold. I don’t know what I expected to go down, but this wasn’t it.
“Excuse me.” To give them a few minutes without an audience, I duck into the bathroom. I doubt Derrick is a threat to her safety, but I’m not confident enough to actually leave.
The low tones of their voices carry into the bathroom. This is so fucked up. Meanwhile, I’m relegated to sitting on their john for however long, like a stalker or something.
A few minutes later, a door closes.
“You can come out now, Evan. The coast is clear.” She sounds tired and greets my return to the living room with a weak smile.
“How’re you doing?”
“Fine. Thanks for being here, though. Derrick…I think he’s genuinely sorry for the whole mess.” Everything about her is so sad. I wish I could scoop her up in my arms and kiss her and make things right. It’s killing me to know I can’t. Part of me is tempted to anyway.
“How do you feel?”
“Drained. Tired. So, tired. I could sleep for a year. You know, it’s weird telling you this, but, I loved Derrick so damned much. What I can’t understand is how fast the love got stomped out by what he did.” She collapses onto her sofa and clutches a pillow to her chest. “It makes me wonder if it’s gone or just hiding behind my hurt and anger. The scary thing is, I think it’s gone. For good.” Her heartsick eyes find mine. Every emotion she has is written on her face.
I’m helpless—caught between two desires. To comfort and to love. So, I sit next to her and hold her hand. We stay like that, without talking, for a very long time. Right now, she needs a friend. And, dammit, I am going to be her friend.
For close to an hour, I’ve been staring out the window, watching the sun set, our hands intertwined. Some time ago, her head slid to rest on my shoulder. The closeness allows me to enjoy the sweet scent of her hair. When I sneak a peek, I realize she’s fallen asleep, her breathing steady and calm. Carefully, I ease my body off the sofa, repositioning her until she’s lying down, and cover her with a throw.
We’d left the remains of dinner on the table, which I clean up, then turn off all the lights but one lamp. Before I go, I place a quick note on the table in front of her, along with a glass of water.
Then, I slip silently out of her apartment.
****
There’s no entertainment value to staring into a glass of bourbon. But that’s what I’m doing. I haven’t been to Malone’s since the night Erynne saw Derrick with Morgan. After leaving Erynne, I ended up here on autopilot. Alone.
Sorting out my feelings for that woman is a pain in the ass. It’s essential I tread lightly for now, when all I want to do is swoop down, gather her in my arms and run off to Shangri-La.
I signal the bartender for another drink. While I’m waiting, a guy takes the stool next to mine, which kind of pisses me off. The place isn’t exactly filled to capacity, and there are other barstools available.
“Drowning your sorrows?”
Glancing up, I recognize the man. Derrick’s boss.
“Hey. Yeah, I guess there’s a lot of that going around these days.”
“Evan, is it?”
“Uh-huh. Jamison Reed right? Erynne’s friend.” Again, remembering names and faces is my thing.
“Right. Derrick’s boss and friend as well.”
“Erynne told me. So, you chose to sit next to me, why?”
He smiles. “I was sitting over there,” he points to the other side of the bar, “and thought I recognized you. You look miserable. Anything to do with our mutual friends?”
“You a mind-reader?” I sip at the refreshed glass of bourbon and gesture toward Jamison’s drink. “Can I get you one?”
“Nah, Carl’s getting me another beer.” As if on cue, the bartender slides a cold one in front of him. “It’s fucked up, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Pretty much.” This conversation is awkward, for sure. I get the sense he’s fishing for something, so I’m on guard.
“Don’t hurt her, too,” he says simply.
“Huh?”
“Erynne. Don’t hurt her. She’s a great woman. If I were an angry man, I’d have beaten the shit out of one of my best friends for what he’s done. That would only make things worse, though.”
I decide silence is the best course of action right now.
“I saw how you watched her and took care of her at Francesca’s event. I’m guessing your feelings for Erynne are more than friendly.”
Yep, I’m keeping my trap shut.
“Awfully quiet.” He’s grinning.
“What do you want to hear?”
> He chuckles. “Smart man.” In a long sip, he drains his beer and taps a hand on the bar as he gets up. “Give her time to recover first. Be good to her.”
Then, he’s gone.
****
Erynne: You busy today?
The text surprises me. She’s the last person I expected to hear from at eight on a Saturday morning. I’ve always been an early riser, which is why I’m on the terrace downing a second cup of coffee, enjoying the sounds of the city coming to life twenty stories below.
Me: Not especially. You OK?
Erynne: Yeah.
Spit it out, woman.
Me: Can I help you with something?
Erynne: Um, I need to find a new apartment.
For a few minutes, I don’t answer, trying to decide what to say or do. Then, it hits me.
Me: I’ll be there in 45.
Erynne: You sure?
Me: You betcha.
As I head into the shower, I make a quick call.
****
Grinning ear to ear, I lean against the door frame and wait for her to answer.
“Thanks for coming over Evan. I know it’s a lot to ask.” She gestures for me to come in. Faded, tight jeans hug her ass, and a long-sleeved tee snugly covers breasts I’ve been dying to get my hands on. Yeah, I’m a creep. Sorry. God, she looks fantastic today. Rested and smiling.
“Don’t even think it. You ready?” I go for a platonic smile and pray it doesn’t turn into a leer, based on my current thoughts.
“In a sec.” She gathers a sweater and her bag before bouncing back to me at the door, her ponytail swinging, making me want to tug on it in the worst way.
As we climb in to my car, I give her the news.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I want to show you an apartment in my building.”
“Oh? I was planning to go to an agency. How do you know about it?”
Sheepishly, I grin. “Uh, my dad sorta owns it. I called him this morning to see if he had any vacancies. I promise it’s a pretty nice place. I don’t even think we have rats.”
“That’s a plus right there.” She laughs.
Erynne will probably have a heart attack when she sees the place. Nice is putting it mildly. Dad doesn’t do “nice” when it comes to real estate. He starts many notches above “nice” and goes from there.