I knew, as it was happening, it would be the one and only real kiss I would ever share with him, so when it didn’t stop at a polite, “Thank you for taking care of my family” kiss, and moved more toward an, “I’ve been waiting to kiss you for a decade,” kiss, I didn’t try to stop it. I let his tongue move over the seam of my lips and I opened for him, letting myself take that first – and last – glorious taste of him. He tasted exactly like he smelled: of skin and sweat and soap. He tasted magnificent.
A small groan left me as his hands gripped me just a little tighter and tilted my head to get more of me. He wanted more, so I gave it to him. I tried to give him every part of me in that kiss I’d been trying to keep from him for years. Every pass of my tongue was one I’d been hoping for. Every tug at his shirt I was trying to get him as close to me as I’d always wanted. I inhaled his scent. I took note of the way he tasted, trying to ingrain it in my brain. I let my hand wander through his blond hair, realizing it, indeed, did feel as soft as it looked. The sounds he made as he kissed me were a lullaby I’d play that night as I tried to fall asleep, hushed groans and strangled moans, not wanting to wake the children.
It was the kiss to end all kisses.
When he pulled away I wasn’t quite ready, but I might not have ever been. For him to kiss me was like coming out of a dark room to a world lit with prisms. Then again, there was a time when I was sure I’d never want a kiss from Devon to end. Kissing him wasn’t the end though. No, this felt more like a beginning. He’d taken off my blindfold, let me out of my darkened room, and given me the colorful light I’d need to make the next step in my life. No, it wasn’t an ending. However, his next words had the power to end me entirely.
He pulled his face away, only far enough to press his forehead flush against mine, and whispered, “I’m leaving, Evie.”
My heart halted, stuck halfway between beats, unsure of its next move and all my blood froze in my veins.
“Leaving?” I whispered, my mouth so close to his I could nearly feel the magnetic pull between us bringing me closer.
Then, in that instant, the spell was broken.
He let go of me, took his hands off my skin, moved to the other side of the couch, and left a wide, gaping, crevasse between us.
“What do you mean you’re leaving? You mean on a business trip?” I asked hopefully. I’d come over with every intention of telling him we’d never be together, but not in a million years did I expect that kiss and then those words. It was like a one-two punch. He faked left, and then jabbed right. Direct hit. Total knock out.
He ran his hands through his hair with frustration, and then heaved out a big breath. “No, not on a business trip. I put in my letter of resignation today. I’m quitting my job, selling the house, and moving to Florida to be near my parents so they can help with the kids. That was the rearranging I did while you were away.”
“You’re leaving?” I whispered, still unable to completely process his words. I’d heard him, understood him even, but refused to think about the fact that he was leaving with Ruby and Jax.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. He dropped his head into his hands and I could tell he was just as emotionally wrecked as I was, and that tore me up. I didn’t want him to hurt. In fact, I wanted the hurting to end. I wanted him and me both to be happy again. He had a bumpy road in front of him, but I knew he could find happiness. I also knew, me being there every day, reminding him of Olivia, of her absence, was like pouring salt in his wounds. And I loved him enough to let him go.
“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m glad you’re going to be near your parents. That will be good for Jax and Ruby. I’m just really going to miss them.” Even though my throat felt as if someone was making a slice right through it, I kept the cries in. I was not going to make him feel worse by crying in front of him about missing his children. No. I would cry in my bed for weeks, alone, about that.
“It was unfair of me to lean on you all this time. I apologize for that, Evie. I really do. But pretending like she isn’t here isn’t helping any of us. And, when you disappeared, it forced me to think about our lives realistically. I need help. Help you aren’t obligated to give me. I never want to feel like an obligation to you.”
“You don’t. You couldn’t. Ever. I love them.”
“I hope you’ll come see us. After some time though. After the kids have settled. I want you to be a part of their lives, a big part. I just want it to be healthy for everyone.”
“I’d really like that,” I said, damning the lone tear that slipped away down my cheek.
A silence fell between us as we looked at each other.
I didn’t know myself without Devon. My entire adult person had been built around him, Olivia, and the weirdly beautiful, although ultimately destructive, relationship we’d all had. And, decidedly, that was the problem.
“I could never wish I’d never met her,” he finally said, quietly, almost as if he wasn’t talking to me, but more to himself. “I’ve thought about what would have happened if we’d done things differently. If I’d asked for your number, or broken up with her when I found you again. We all could have taken so many paths, even ones that didn’t end with Olivia’s death. But even with that alternative, I can’t imagine ever going back and doing anything differently, Evie. The path we all went down brought us Ruby and Jax. So, as bad as I feel about what happened between us, and that we all had to watch Olivia suffer and die so tragically young, I can’t, not even for one second, wish it were any different.”
“I know.” I swallowed over a large lump, not wanting to think about a world without those two beautiful children. “I agree. And I know Olivia would too.”
Then, as if on cue, we both turned our heads as we heard Ruby’s voice drift down the stairwell.
“Daddy, I can’t sleep.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the sounds of her sweet, sleepy voice. It washed over me and made me feel a peace I hadn’t known in years. Devon was going to do what was best for his children, and if I didn’t love him before, I loved him now.
He looked at me with apology in his eyes, and I smiled, silently telling him I understood. Ruby couldn’t know I was there, then she’d never go back to bed. I watched as he stood and walked up the stairs to help his little girl fall asleep. And when all was quiet, I snuck out the front door, feeling lighter than I ever had.
Devon stayed in town until the kids were done with school. So I had three glorious weeks of just being Aunt Evie. I took them to movies in the evenings and to the park on Saturdays, but never showed up to get them ready for school or to make them dinner. They never asked why, and I never offered an explanation. The time we spent together was bittersweet because we all knew, soon enough, they would be moving. But it didn’t stop me from spending time with them and showering them with affection.
The day they left, I stood in their driveway blowing kisses at the back of their SUV, waving and shouting, “I love you.” Then I sat on their porch and cried.
When I heard my cell phone ping, I picked it up from the passenger seat and saw an alert that, at first, didn’t make any sense. I saw the word “Nate,” flash across my screen. Then, all at once, I remembered. I found the nearest exit, pulled into a parking lot, and then stared at my phone.
His name kept flashing, over and over again, and it came with an alert that sounded a lot like a hurricane siren. That was fitting, actually.
When that alert comes up on your phone, decide then. And I promise, whatever you decide, I’ll be okay with, as long as it’s your first choice.
I closed my eyes and tried to listen. I tried to hear that inner voice that would guide me, tell me the right thing to do. I sighed, and then, dragged my finger across the screen, dismissing the alarm. I gently tossed my phone on to the passenger seat again, and then rested my head against the headrest. I took in a few deep breaths, and then gripped the steering wheel. I checked my mirrors, making sure I could see all the way to the end of the U-Haul trailer I was p
ulling behind me, and then I pulled back onto the freeway and left my old life behind.
I did not call Nate.
I’d done exactly as he’d told me.
He wasn’t my first choice.
Chapter Twenty
Two Years Later
“Sylvia,” I called out, trying not to sound as completely flustered and nervous as I felt. “Can I get the lighting on this one taken down a bit and the print lowered just a smidge? It’s being washed out entirely.”
“Absolutely. No problem,” she replied with confidence, even though I knew I was handing her a task she was going to pass off to someone else.
I flipped my wrist over looking for a watch I never wore then cursed myself for never wearing a watch. “What time is it?” I asked impatiently.
“We’ve got plenty of time,” she said with a genuine smile, placing a friendly hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me.
I breathed out heavily, attempting to expel all the butterflies taking up residence in my belly. They didn’t go anywhere. Bastards.
“Okay, let’s get this one fixed then everything looks great.”
“No problem,” she replied, again with confidence.
“You know,” I said, an easy smile coming over my face for the first time that evening, “I almost believe you’re not just as nervous as I am.”
“That’s my job. To de-stress you. But trust me, I’m nervous as hell. But it’s a good nervous, more excitement. I just know this is going to be your night.” Her eyes lit up with contagious excitement, and I smiled back at her, this time my smile stretching my cheeks and raising my eyebrows.
“Thanks.”
She winked and then walked away faster than anyone should have been able to walk in her death-trap heels. I walked back to my office, a room I’d neglected until about three weeks ago when the idea of my gallery filled with patrons and clients made me organize the mess I’d made there in the last year and a half.
Sitting atop my desk was a crystal vase filled with all different pastel colors of peonies. I smiled as soon as I saw them, remembering the happiness I’d been overwhelmed with when they’d arrived. I picked up the card leaning against the vase, and allowed the words written on it to calm me a little.
We’re so excited for you, Auntie Evie. Good luck with your show!
The card was signed with an XOXO, and then names signed by little hands, Ruby and Jax.
I held the card close to my heart, trying to let their love wash over me. I missed them terribly. I hadn’t actually seen them, face to face, since they moved to Florida, but we Skyped weekly. Devon had never denied me them and, in fact, had bent over backward to make sure I was still a part of their lives. I loved those two kids so much, it sometimes hurt to be away from them. But, I knew the space for Devon and me was important.
We’d had civil correspondence in the last two years, but nothing in depth and nothing meaningful. We were both moving on, trying to build new lives. He had spent a few months after moving focused on being with his children, and in those months I saw the kids respond well to having their father back. Then, he’d gotten a new job, and only a few months ago, he’d purchased another house, making Florida their permanent residence.
Still, it was very thoughtful of him to send the flowers. He knew how much it would mean to me. In moments like that I couldn’t regret the way my life had played out. Devon was a good man. He just wasn’t it for me.
I sighed and put the card back, then bent and smelled the flowers. It had worked. I was slightly less frantic than I had been five minutes ago. Mission accomplished. My eyes flitted to the hanger on the back of the door, which held my dress for the show. This show, my very own gallery show, was what I’d been working toward since I left my life behind two years ago. In my mind there’d been only two places I could go to make my dream a reality: New York City or Los Angeles. I’d done my research and decided LA was a safer choice. Plus, the weather was warmer.
So, I’d packed up my whole life, selling everything I couldn’t take with me, and left for California. I’d spent the last two years focused on my craft, working tirelessly to make it as a photographer in one of the toughest cities in the country.
About eight months before, I had submitted a few photos to the Kontinent Awards. It was a fine arts series of four photos, all of which I’d taken on a hazy summer morning. Wildfires were running rampant through southern California. One morning, instead of evacuating as I’d been told, I grabbed a model, put her in a red gauzy dress, and placed her precariously close to smoke and flames.
When I was taking the photos, I knew they were special, but I had no idea they would launch my career. I’d won the award for my category and the images had become, in the world of photography, famous. Suddenly, I was selling photographs for more than I was used to making in a month. I invested in myself and started looking for a place to open my own gallery. Tonight was my inaugural show. I was beyond nervous. I wanted the show to go well, but more than that, I wanted to be taken seriously. I wanted to be recognized as an artist.
I slipped the red dress out of the garment bag, freshly steamed from the tailor, and it looked magnificent. I wanted to look professional, yet still young and fresh. I’d just turned thirty, and I was trying to embrace the ‘Thirty and Flirty’ mantra. My twenties were definitely something I wanted to leave behind, so I was looking forward to the next decade with exuberance. I locked my door and undressed, then slipped the silk dress over my head, loving the feeling of the material sliding down my skin, which I’d had buffed, primed, and polished in anticipation of this event.
I was, possibly, in the best shape of my life. I’d never taken such good care of my body than I had since I moved there. I was stronger in many ways, but my body was reaping the benefits of the gym I’d joined and all the hiking I did to get my shots. I also did small things to take care of myself. My nails were polished, my hair was highlighted, and I’d developed a habit of waxing. I was smooth everywhere and something about that always exhilarated me. And it was, indeed, just for me. I’d not been with a man since I had moved there.
I’d barely slipped on my black stiletto heeled shoes when I heard a small knock at my door.
“Come in,” I called out, smoothing the fabric of my dress down my thighs, pulling on the hem where it lay only a few inches above my knees.
“Hey, famous photographer lady.”
I turned at the excited declaration and saw Shelby standing in my doorway, an enormous smile on her face.
“Oh, my God! Shelby!” I cried, rushing toward her. “What in the world are you doing here?” I wrapped my arms around her, not believing she was actually standing in front of me.
“You said you were having your first show, so, of course I came! I’ll get to tell everyone how I knew you when!”
“I can’t believe you came all the way to LA for a gallery show.” It had been a while since anyone had done something that nice for me.
“Well, I’ll be honest, I can’t afford to buy anything because you’re so famous, your prints are selling for an arm and a leg, but I’m here to show my support.”
I leaned in and hugged her again. “Thank you,” I whispered.
I’d made a small group of friends in LA. Lainey was my neighbor and lived in the townhouse next to mine. She’d introduced me to her friends and, luckily for me, I had fit right in. They were all in their early thirties, single, and trying to do the responsible, working adult thing. I’d made some great connections with some models in the city, using them for my shoots, building relationships with them, but Shelby was more than just a model to me. She’d helped me through some tough times and I was thrilled she was here. I couldn’t wait to introduce her to my LA friends.
“I’ll let you finish getting ready and see you out there,” she said with a smile before she gave me another quick hug and disappeared. I took in a deep breath and let it out. Something about having a familiar and friendly face there made me feel better, a little more relaxed, as if
I could actually pull the show off.
An hour later, I could hear voices filling the gallery space. Lots of voices. I’d done a lot of legwork for this show, trying to make sure that anyone and everyone was invited. Editors from prominent magazines and newspapers had given me indications they’d be attending, other photographers whose endorsement could mean a lot to me, so many people who could be right in the other room. I almost couldn’t bring myself to leave my office. But eventually, when I was sure there wasn’t a hair out of place, I took a deep breath and walked out of my safe office and into the gallery.
I’d seen the set up for weeks now. Heck, I’d designed it. But seeing the show in full swing, lighting up, people milling around, drinks in hand, pointing to my photos, well, it seemed like a dream come true.
I grabbed a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing server, giving her a smile, and then slowly strode through the open gallery showroom, trying to take in bits and pieces of what people were saying to each other about my photos.
“Breathtaking,” “beautiful,” “soulful,” and “exquisite” were some of the words floating through the air as I passed by, and the smile that spread across my face was genuine and pure. This was what I’d worked so hard for these past years.
I spotted Sylvia and made my way to her, grateful for a friendly face. Her eyes lit up when she saw me and greeted me with an excited smile.
“Oh, my gosh, Evelyn, so far everyone is in awe of your work.” She placed her hand on my arm just below my shoulder and gave me a gentle, supportive squeeze. A few heads around us turned at Sylvia’s words and once people’s eyes found me, I was suddenly surrounded by people – fancy, glamorous people – who all wanted to talk to me about my “talent.”
Over the next two hours, I was happily cornered by some of the most impressive people I’d ever hoped to meet, let alone talk with about my photographs. Someone from Time Magazine spoke to me for ten whole minutes about using my photos for a regional edition and I nearly stopped breathing. Whose life was I living?
The Absence of Olivia Page 20