And then my phone rings. But it’s not just any ring. It’s Lucky by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat—Cole’s ringtone. I turn my head toward the interruption. I hear Jake mutter a “fuck” under his breath. I grab the phone before it goes to voicemail. I close my eyes and answer.
“Hey.” That’s all I can manage. I’m amazed I could even get that out.
“What’s wrong? You sound weird.” He doesn’t say this accusingly. No, he says it with worry. Yeah, I’m a bitch.
“Nothing. I’m just in the middle of doing yoga. Getting a bit winded. What’s up babe?”
Feeling Jake tense, I look up at him and am met with a hard stare. He gets off of me and paces back and forth to the side of my head. Eff. He’s angry. At me? Or the situation—whatever the situation is. Dang, I didn’t hear what Cole just said. “I’m sorry, baby, what did you say?”
“Well, I was reminding you that we have an early release today, so I’ll be home in a couple of hours. Thought maybe we could go out to lunch if you’re up to it. You sound kinda out of it though babe.”
“No, I’m fine, really. Yeah, we can do that. Sounds like a plan. I’m gonna finish up and get ready, okay? I’ll see you soon.” I’m trying to muster all of the enthusiasm I can, but I’m just not feeling it right now. Right now, all I can think about is the irritated man that is burning holes through my head the more I speak.
“Okay, I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I hang up, warily rise from the mat, and make my way to Jake. He abruptly stops his pacing and faces me with a quiet rage. I can feel it rolling off of him in waves. He has something to say.
“What the fuck are we doing? What the fuck are you doing?”
His emotions seem to be as schizo as mine. I know he’s angry, but I can sense a helplessness in his tone. He’s just as confused and lost as I am.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
I really don’t fucking know.
He steps toward me, looking as if he’s going to grab me. But at the last minute, he steps back.
“Well, let me know when you figure it out.” His eyes spear mine with that same torturous look as yesterday. “Have fun with your babe,” he spits out before walking back inside. And from the slam of my door, he’s gone back to his house, and far away from me. I’m left feeling that chill in the air again, and even more confused than ever.
***
Jake ignores me for three days. Three excruciatingly drawn out days. Every morning while I’m out waiting for the bus with the kids, Jake lets Ben come over with Cady and Dyl, while he stands on his porch. He never once glances my way. It’s like I’ve become invisible to him. And you know what? I’m kind of mother effing pissed about it. What did he expect me to do—ignore Cole? Not answer the phone like I normally would, making him even more suspicious? This whole thing—whatever this is, attraction or infatuation—is honestly beginning to grate on my nerves.
Yes, my emotions are on overdrive. They’re so damn sporadic, I feel like I’m either going to have a panic attack or just start screaming at any moment. I’m constantly having to remind myself to freaking breathe. I really just want to lay in bed alone and attempt to forget the stupid neighbor with haunting green eyes that sparkle when he looks at me. But I can’t. Not today, anyway. I have to pull it together because it’s my kiddos’ birthday party. And I’m hosting twelve other kids for the afternoon, plus their parents.
And Jake.
With Cole.
Under the same roof.
Yeah, I need to get my shit together. Fast.
So here I am, finishing the dips, doing all of the last minute finishing touches before everyone arrives. We rented a helium machine, so inside the house there are about two-dozen balloons touching the ceiling. Frozen for Cady and Spiderman for Dyl. Along with matching tablecloths, hats, streamers, and pretty much every other themed birthday supply we could find at Party City. Yes, we do it big in the Moreno-Adams residence. It’s like we created a Frozen-Spiderman hybrid alternate reality in our kitchen and backyard.
The twins are currently testing out the bouncy house outside, while Cole is getting the barbeque grill all set up. People should be arriving any minute now, which means I will be seeing and possibly interacting with Jake momentarily. I peek outside to make sure Cole isn’t looking, then open the freezer and stealthily grab the whiskey bottle. I sneak around the corner and take a ginormous swig. Bleh, that burns. I gag. I’ve never been a hard alcohol kind of girl. It brings back too many memories that are best forgotten. I put it back quickly before I get caught. My belly feels warm, and my shaking has subsided slightly.
Right on cue, the doorbell rings. Showtime. Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders, plaster an award-winning smile on my face, and make my way to the door. It isn’t him. Hopefully hiding my disappointment, I usher in guest after guest. This goes on for about fifteen minutes. My face falls and my heart sinks each time I open the door and don’t see his face.
I don’t think he’s coming.
I’m about to turn around and walk back into the kitchen, when the doorbell rings yet again. I am almost positive everyone is already here, except for Jake and Ben. My heart begins to hammer harder and faster against my chest with each step I take towards the door. I pause a second before twisting the knob.
I have to suppress the urge to jump into Jake’s arms when I seem him at my doorstep. I do, however, have a ridiculous grin on my face that I can’t seem to remove. But it seems like Jake is having the same issue, since his smile is pretty damn comical…and so stinking cute. We are both about to say something when a familiar voice from behind me beats me to it.
“Hey, Ben. Why don’t you go out back with the kids!” Ben looks up to Jake, whom nods a yes to the unasked question. Ben doesn’t hesitate as he runs through the house. “Hey, Jake. Come on in. Beers are out back. Meat is on the grill, and I know for a fact there are a few single moms here!” he says almost challenging as he leads Jake inside and through the house. Jake looks back at me once before following Cole. I glare at the back of their heads.
Single moms? What the eff?
An hour into the party, the kids are still bouncing to their hearts’ content. All of the parents are mingling, while Cole is grilling hamburgers, hotdogs, and chicken. I am pretending to be interested in Lacey’s—a close friend of Cady’s—mom gush about their plans for a summer vacation in Hawaii. Wealthy bastards.
While she brags about how they went to Australia last year, I am sneaking peeks at Jake, who is talking to one of those damn single moms. Becky. And yes, she is beautiful and hot and easy. She’s made the rounds with all of the single dads in the school, and from the looks of it, she is getting ready to sink her slutty-ass claws into Jake. Her stupid, big-ass boobs are falling out of her inappropriately short and low-cut summer dress, and Jake’s just eating it up. His eyes keep darting down to her chest, then back up to her eyes. He’s engrossed in whatever story she’s telling him, smiling and laughing at something funny she said. I watch her touch his arm and linger there for far too long, if you ask me. I can tell she’s pulling out all the cards. Why wouldn’t she? He’s so effing perfect, I can’t even form the damn words to describe him. And yes I know I’ve used perfect about a dozen times but it’s the only word that comes close to illustrate the enigma that is my neighbor. He’s more than sexy. He’s delicious and sweet, with a hint of badass. He’s unlike anyone I have ever met. And today he looks even more delectable, wearing a Nirvana tank top that shows off more skin than I’ve seen from him thus far. His arms are even more sculpted than I thought. It’s subtle though, not obnoxiously in your face. He’s built like a swimmer. A sexy-ass swimmer. He’s also rocking those fitted, dark jeans he loves—and I love—and black boots with the shoelaces untied. Badass, barbeque-chic.
When I look back up from his boots, our eyes collide, and I swear everyone else disappears and it’s just us. Alone. Staring. He must see the roaring beast known as jealousy in my eyes, be
cause the bastard has the audacity to smirk, and then wink.
Yeah, that’s it. I cut Lacey’s mom off, tell her I have to get all of the condiments and sides ready for lunch, then turn around and practically run inside. When I go into the kitchen, I find Cole drinking a beer and staring out into the backyard. I trace his line of sight and realize he’s staring at Jake and Becky. He didn’t notice me staring too, right? Or the way I just ran inside like my big butt’s on fire? I step in front of the shameful debacle that is Jake and Becky.
Cole smiles at me, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He nods to the couple. “I introduced them when he first came in. They seem to be hitting it off, don’t you think?”
“Why would you do that? She’s slept with every single man in the school district!” I really try not to sound resentful or jealous, and can only pray that I pulled it off.
“Well, good. The dude needs to get laid, Evie. He’s been here for weeks, and the only woman I’ve seen him with is my woman.” I look back behind me and catch Jake whispering something in her ear. My hands clench and I am pretty sure my heart dropped out of my chest, onto the floor. I look back to Cole and find him staring intently at me.
“Don’t look at me like that. We’re hardly even friends, Cole. It’s hard not to see each other when we live next door, and the kids have become attached at the hip. But Becky, Cole? Seriously? He better get himself checked out if he decides to take her for a ride. She’s been around the block more than a few times. Although, from the looks of it, he doesn’t seem to mind.” I internally cross my fingers that I managed to keep the guilt and budding disdain out of my voice.
Cole’s blue eyes probe mine closely. Shit. I can see the gears turning. He sees it. I am pretty sure he sees it. But then again, he just sighs, kisses my forehead, and leaves the kitchen, ignoring what he might have seen.
I close my eyes briefly, concentrating on my breathing. Then I feel him. That pull that is begging me to turn around and surrender. But my own green-eyed monster is stronger. I square my shoulders, straighten my posture, and walk around the counter, pretending to be oblivious to his demanding presence. I can feel his eyes on me as I busy myself with pulling items from the fridge and grabbing the necessities for lunch.
“Evangeline.”
I don’t answer.
“Evangeline!” He says louder. Forceful. I finally raise my eyes to his. And whatever he sees makes him take a step back.
“Does Becky need something? Are you refreshing her drink, or does she need to borrow a change of clothes? You know, realizing that while at a children’s birthday party, she is dressed like a five-dollar prostitute.” I observe with a fake smile. The asshole has the balls to look smug, yet again. I want to punch him in the face so hard right now.
“Jealously looks damn good on you,” he muses while walking toward me.
“I’m not jealous of her,” I lie through my teeth. He stops moving just close enough to where it could still be looked at as innocent. It doesn’t feel close enough, though. He inches his hand toward mine, tracing tiny circles around my knuckles, turning my legs into jelly in the process.
“Oh, but you are jealous. I saw you looking at us out there. The way your eyes burned with envy, just as they are now. Only now, I can also see anger and want. You are jealous—there’s no denying it. Now you know how I feel when I see you with him,” he says bitterly.
Yeah, he’s right. I am mother fucking angry. I snatch my hand away from his, taking him by surprise. I take a step back, needing the distance to keep my wits about me.
“Why would I be jealous, Jake? I have nothing to be jealous of. I don’t have any claim on you. Like you said, I have him. I don’t give a shit what you do. Flirt with her, take her out, or fuck her in my bathroom for all I care. It wouldn’t be too difficult—I hear she’s pretty damn easy. And alone, unlike me. Now excuse me, I have lunch to serve and a party to host.” I bite out while attempting to brush past him. He grabs my arm, halting my escape.
“You don’t mean that,” he whispers with a lot less venom and a lot more anguish.
I know I hurt his feelings, but I can’t stop the lies that are pouring out of my mouth. I can’t let him know how much it killed me to watch him with skanky ass Becky Lewis. I have no right to do so. That would be akin to admitting my betraying thoughts. So maybe, just maybe, if I push him to her, this infatuation will go away—even though the thought of them together makes my stomach churn, while at the same time generates an itch to punch something. I can’t look at him in the eye, so I focus my attention on the liberal amount of buns in my hands.
“I do. You can do whatever you want, Jake. I’m not going to stop you. And to be honest, maybe it’s for the best. For everyone.” I say with an unsteady voice, finally meeting his eyes. Yeah, that heart of mine that dropped on the floor earlier, is getting the shit kicked out of it right about now.
“If that’s what you want—” he says weakly, sounding so deflated that I almost cave and wrap my goose bump-covered arms around his hard and narrow waist. But instead, I stand firm.
“It is.” I say quickly, just barely above a whisper.
Jake lets my arm go, and without a second glance, I walk out the back door and immerse myself into the party.
***
The next few hours I feel as if I’m just going through the motions. Although, I am almost positive that I am the only one who knows about the extreme wrestling match of emotions going on inside me. Throughout the day, while my kids eat cake and open presents with eagerness and so much delight, I actually forget about everything and revel in their joy. But that is short lived when I spot Jake and the skank sitting so close to each other, she’s practically in his lap. They’re whispering back and forth in their respective ears. The sight is making my blood boil so much that I excuse myself for a minute. I can feel his eyes on me as I retreat to the bathroom.
Once I’m inside, I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face. I need to cool off, to suck it up. I pushed him to do this. He’s not mine. He will never be mine. The sooner I realize this, come to terms with it, the better. I take a few much-needed deep breaths and walk back to the party.
Cole looks away from the kids’ obliteration of wrapping paper and sets his wary gaze on me. I walk over to him and smile a genuinely happy smile, grab his hand and squeeze. This is my family. A family that I love with everything that I have and that I am. It sucks that I have to remind myself of this, but for now, it’s just the way it is. I will get over this—him. Whatever we were about to start will never have the chance to grow.
For the rest of the party, Jake doesn’t exist.
Chapter Eight
Jake
Three days.
I didn’t say one word to her in three fucking days. I barely even looked at her. At least when she was looking. But when she wasn’t, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. I know I had no right to be mad at her. As much as I want her to be, she isn’t mine. Not yet, anyway. And from the petty and childish as hell way I’m acting, she probably never will be. But this whole situation is all kinds of fucked up. I am falling for a girl who loves a man she’s been with her whole life. They have a family—a picture-perfect, happy family. And she deserves that. She deserves smiles and family game nights and vacations. She deserves normal.
I just really want to be the man to give it to her.
How do I do that, though? Destroy the family that she loves? I know she has feelings for me, but are they strong enough to give up her everything?
I really don’t fucking know.
So what do I do? I yell at her and storm off, because she makes me feel so damn insecure and weak. Which pisses me the hell off, because I have never been those things. I’ve dealt with pain my whole life, I’ve lost my family, and I never once broke down. I’ve barely even cried. I stay strong because that’s the only way to survive. It might make me sound cold and heartless, but it’s the only way I know, and it’s worked for me…until now.
; I’m standing in my living room, glaring at some Barbie doll-thing and a Spiderman figure I wrapped a few days ago for Cady and Dylan’s party—the party that started a few minutes ago. I don’t want to go. And yet I do, because I need to see her. The hunger I have for Evangeline needs to be fed. I yearn to hear her tender singsong voice, and that laugh that guts me every single time. The way she unknowingly sways her hips when she walks, almost always barefoot. She’s the embodiment of a free spirit. She makes this punk from Seattle want to convert. But as much I keep telling myself to suck it up and be a man, I just don’t think I can handle seeing her with him.
“Hey, Uncle Jake, it’s 1:05. We’re late for Cady and Dyl’s party. What are you doing staring at their gifts?” Ben comes up behind me, scaring the shit out of me, once again. I swear, that kid was a ninja in a past life.
“Hey, kid. Um, I was just making sure the wrapping is okay,” I lie.
Obviously, I can’t tell him the truth. For one, he thinks girls are stupid and disgusting—although, I have watched him noticing Cady more than usual—but still, it’s not like he can offer me advice as to how to steal a woman from another man. And two, the kid really wants to go to the party. He’s been talking about it nonstop since I gave him the invitation. I can’t not take him—he’d be heartbroken. And at the ripe age of seven, he’s experienced enough heartbreak for a lifetime. I can tell he’s getting impatient, because he’s doing some kind of jig around the floor. All right. Time to man up, Jake. So, taking a deep breath, I snatch the presents off the coffee table and hand one to Ben while taking his hand in mine. Together, we walk out the door.
We wait for what seems like years for someone to open the door. But when it finally happens, I see that it was well worth the wait. Evangeline is standing there looking surprised and so damn cute with her expressive deep brown eyes and dimples. I look at my watch and realize we’re fifteen minutes late. She probably thought we weren’t coming. I quickly take her in. She’s wearing a short red and white polka dot tank top and these high-waisted shorts that fall a couple inches above her knees, not short by any means but still sexy as all hell. Her normally untamed curls are pulled back in a braid that rests on her right shoulder. She rarely wears makeup—she doesn’t need it. She’s all natural and so fucking beautiful, I have to dig my fingernails into my palms to stop myself from grabbing her, throwing her over my shoulder, and taking her away with me. It looks like she’s about to say something when I hear a male voice from behind her.
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