by Del, Lissa
I shrug, not wanting to hurt her feelings.
“I think it’s a bit soon for them to be starting a family,” Kylie interjects loyally. “I mean, they’ve only been married what – six months?”
“Seven.” They both turn to look at me and I wish I hadn’t just admitted to keeping track.
Kylie recovers first. “Yeah, well that’s not very long, is it? And they’re always arguing… it’s just not…”
“I really don’t think any of this is my business,” I say pointedly.
Kylie looks shame-faced. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m sorry, Jules. It’s just still weird to see him with someone else.”
“What about you?” Ange asks. “Have you met anyone?”
“No. I haven’t really had much time for dating.”
“But you will now,” she says, “I mean, now that you’re not living with your dad anymore.”
“Julia?” Nick’s voice interrupts and I look up, grateful for the distraction. There’s a strange look on his face and I wonder just how long he’s been standing there.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to interrupt. Evie asked me to tell you goodnight. She’s gone to bed. I think she’s a bit shattered.” I feel guilt flood through me but Nick raises his dark brows as if to tell me, don’t you dare.
“Would you like to join us?” I ask. After all, it’s his patio, fireplace. He shouldn’t feel he has to hide inside.
“I don’t want to intrude,” he says, but I can tell he wants to. He deliberates for a minute. “I need a refill,” he says. “Anyone need anything?” Kylie holds up her empty glass.
When Nick returns, he takes a seat. “I feel like the thorn among the roses,” he teases.
Conversation is awkward at first but the four of us soon settle into an easy rhythm. Just after ten, Kylie orders an Uber for herself and Ange and Nick yawns widely.
“Thank you so much for everything today,” I tell him, once I’ve walked my friends out.
“It was our pleasure. Did you have a good time?”
“I had an amazing time.”
“Good,” he smiles. “You deserved it. Goodnight, Jules.”
It’s the first time he’s called me that, but I don’t think he’s even noticed as he wanders up the stairs.
25
Nick
“I’m perfectly capable of going on my own,” I insist for the third time. What I really mean is, this feels awkward, but that’s not what comes out. I’m beginning to feel like a stuck record but Evie isn’t budging.
“Why let a perfectly good ticket go to waste?” Evie says, and then, because she knows exactly what I’m trying to say, “I know you probably feel awkward going with Julia, but Casey adores her, and it might make her feel better about me not being there.” She stops speaking as a hacking fit of coughing seizes her, and any further argument dies on my lips.
“You’re going to the doctor tomorrow,” I say. “You should’ve gone two weeks ago.” Evie started sniffing a few days after Julia’s party. By the time the coughing started I realised she hadn’t shaken whatever bug had come over her, but she’d insisted she was fine. She was still attempting to downplay it.
“It’s only a cold.”
“No, it’s not. You might’ve gotten away with that before, but we both know that it’s not just a cold. Not anymore, anyway. If it was, there’s no way you’d be missing this,” I add pointedly.
That shuts her up. She’d been looking forward to Casey’s recital for months. I know how devastated she is to be missing it, but she doesn’t even have the energy to get out of bed.
“You promise you’ll video it?” she asks in a small voice. “From start to finish – and the finale?”
I lean over the bed and kiss her forehead, letting my lips rest against the clammy skin. “I promise. And first thing tomorrow we’re going to see the doc.”
Casey cries when she realises that Evie isn’t coming with us, but she perks up slightly when Julia takes her hand.
“I’m going to tell Mommy all about it as soon as we get home,” Julia tells her. Julia’s face is pinched and pale. I know she feels terrible about this, but she knows better than to argue with Evie and she wouldn’t want to let Casey down.
I hold Julia’s door open, standing awkwardly on one leg while she straps Casey into her chair. I’ve never known her to fumble with the restraints before, but Murphy’s law ensures that tonight she does. I guess I’m not the only one who’s uncomfortable with Evie’s plan. I breathe a sigh of relief when she finally gets into the car and I close the door with more force than necessary. It’s surreal – Julia sitting in Evie’s place – but by the time I round the front of the car and reach the driver’s door, I’ve composed myself.
Until I close my door and her scent assaults my senses. The fragrant citrus filling the confined space brings back memories of lazy Sunday sex and secrets whispered on breath and air. I feel something stir inside of me, and I open my window, as if the crisp night air might help me escape it.
Julia gives me a strange look and I feel an inexplicable urge to kiss her pink lips, to bury my face in her hair and trail my tongue down her neck, lower, lower and lose myself in the soft curve of her breasts. Oh God, what is happening to me? I’ve never been a particularly religious man, but I pray now. I pray for release from the sudden desire that has seized hold of me and I pray for forgiveness - for being weak when I should be strong.
We sit two seats apart, with Dylan and Jesse between us. I notice a few of the moms from Casey’s school giving Julia and I strange looks but I grit my teeth and ignore them. Evie can’t stand most of them, so what do I care what they think or say?
“I can’t see!” Dylan hisses, as a large man in jeans and a ridiculously loud bomber jacket settles into the seat in front of him. His wife sits in front of me, half his size, with a short pixie crop of white-blonde hair. I’m about to switch places with Dylan when Julia pulls him onto her lap. He settles back against her as the lights dim and I face forward, determinedly, while Jesse slouches beside me.
Casey’s performance is second to last in a line-up of no less than twelve dance routines. Still, the wait is worth it. Her yellow-and-black bee costume is adorable, complete with bouncing black feelers which fall off halfway through her act, and which she stops to collect, sending seven other bees into a confused frenzy. I laugh until my sides hurt and almost drop my phone which I’m using to record the entire debacle. Even Jesse can’t stop giggling beside me. I meet Julia’s eyes over his head to find tears of laughter streaming down her face. I grin at her, forgetting for a second that she’s not Casey’s mom, that she’s not supposed to be here, that this is wrong… just so wrong. The thought sobers me instantly and I whip away from the gleam of mirth in Julia’s eyes so fast I could’ve given myself whiplash. For the rest of the concert, I keep my eyes firmly on the stage.
Evie is sleeping when we get home. Julia puts the boys to bed while I try to explain to Casey that Mommy will watch the recording in the morning.
“You don’t need to show Mommy,” Casey yawns, showing her pink tongue. “She saw me.”
“Okay, baby,” I murmur, not bothering to correct her. She’s so tired she’s probably already dreaming. I pull her blanket up to her neck, kiss her forehead and switch off her nightlight.
Downstairs, Julia is making coffee.
“You’re not going to be able to sleep,” I tell her.
“I don’t think I’d sleep anyway,” she admits. “I keep remembering how her headband fell off and they all knocked into one another like buzzing little dominoes.”
“It was pretty funny.”
“It was hysterical.” She waves her mug at me and I nod.
“Why not.”
She pours the coffee and we settle into a comfortable silence.
“How’s Evie?”
“She’s sleeping.”
“I’m worried about her,” Julia admits. “That cough doesn’t sound good.”
“I’m taking her to
the ER tomorrow. It’s the only place open on a Sunday.” It occurs to me that Sunday is Julia’s day off. “Would you be able to watch the kids? I’m sure I won’t be long.”
“Of course. Don’t rush. Worst case, I’ll tell my dad to come over here, or I’ll take the kids with me to lunch.”
“Thank you.”
Julia looks at the dishes stacked neatly by the sink. “I’m going to wash up before bed,” she says.
“I really need to get the dishwasher fixed.” The ancient machine leaks and neither Evie nor I have gotten around to getting it repaired.
“I don’t mind washing, it’s therapeutic.”
I join her at the sink. “You wash, I’ll dry,” I say, folding up my shirt sleeves.
“I can manage.”
“I know you can, but I think I need this therapy you speak of.”
Julia laughs. “Joke all you want, but it works.”
“If you say so.”
She turns abruptly to pick up the pasta pot and a waft of that scent hits me, bringing with it another wave of nostalgia, but I’m relieved to find my body doesn’t react as physically as it did earlier.
“You’re terrible at rinsing,” I tell Julia as she hands me a plate with suds dripping from the brim.
She gives me a wry look, but takes the plate back. Her fingers brush mine, the barest whisper of a touch and I come undone. I meet Julia’s gaze and my eyes are drawn to her lips, pale, pink, perfect. It all happens within the space it takes for Julia’s startled inhalation of breath – I smell her, sense her, yearn to taste her, to touch… and then, before I can act on any of it, I drop the drying up towel, pivot on the spot and march right out of the room.
26
Evie
I smother another painful bout of coughing with my pillow, which is damp with sweat. It stinks, so I toss it aside, burying my head beneath the duvet instead. I feel like shit and am guilt-ridden above that. I shouldn’t have gone to Casey’s rehearsal. I’d vowed to stay home, to stay in bed where I should be, but the longing to see her on stage in her adorable costume, to watch my beautiful ballerina, was too much. I’d snuck into the back once the lights were out, unnoticed and invisible to the legion of proud parents who faced forward. I’d caught a glimpse of Nick and Julia in the second row, watched as their heads turned toward one another after Casey’s performance. I’d seen the flash of Nick’s smile, the one that is almost always directed at me and I’d felt the agony of a splinter pierce my heart.
As she dipped into an adorable and rather clumsy curtsey, Casey had looked right at me. Her dimple-cheeked smile lit up the auditorium and she’d raised both hands to wave at me, knocking the feelers off the startled bee beside her. By the time Nick glanced around to see who she was waving at, I had pulled back into the shadows, invisible once more.
I’d made it home just in time. If Nick had stopped to place his hand on the hood of my car, he would’ve felt the warmth, known that I hadn’t been in bed all this time, but he didn’t. And by the time he came upstairs to check on me, I was feigning a deep sleep, curled in on myself, trying to ease the ache that lingered in my chest.
I could hear them in the kitchen, the low murmur of voices trying to keep it down so as not to wake anybody. Running water, soft splashing, a deep chuckle. I shut my eyes against the sounds, willing myself not to cry, but then, suddenly, the bedroom door burst open and Nick stalked in, his breathing ragged. Through slitted eyes I watched as he ran his hands through his hair, and then, with a quick glance at the bathroom door, dropped his clothes. Almost subconsciously, his hand strayed to cover his erection as he passed the bed on his way to the bathroom. A minute later the hiss of the shower stung my ears.
I knew what he was doing in there, and I knew why. Nick may be the world’s best man, but he is still only a man. A part of me wanted to get out of bed to go to him and ease his need, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I pulled my pillow over my head and blocked out the sound of life going on without me.
When I open my eyes in the morning, Nick is sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed.
“Good morning.” His smile is so bright that it dulls even the radiant sunlight filtering through the window as he hands me a steaming cup of coffee.
“I love you,” I sigh, taking it from him and leaning back against the headboard.
“You didn’t cough as much last night,” he says, sounding pleased.
“Are you keeping track? Do you have a record book somewhere?” I dip my chin and put on my best commentator’s impersonation: “Friday: Evie coughed forty-seven times. Saturday: Evie coughed thirty-two times then fell into a death-like sleep. Began to worry, but she farted at eleven p.m.”
“Something like that,” Nick says, his eyes twinkling. “Only you actually farted at midnight.”
“Ha-ha. So, does this mean I get out of going to the ER this morning?”
“Nice try.”
I sip my coffee. “How was the rehearsal?”
“Beautiful. Here,” he hands me his phone and I watch Casey’s performance. I smile, waiting for the moment that Casey’s feelers fall off and I laugh out loud at the ballerina pile-up, which hurts my chest, but it’s even funnier the second time around. Of course, I don’t tell Nick that.
Nick is watching over my shoulder as the view swings around to catch Julia in mid-laughter, wiping tears of mirth from her cheeks. I feel him stiffen beside me, sense his discomfort, and I hand the phone back.
“It looks like she had fun, too,” I say slowly, deliberately.
“I think so.” He brushes it off. “I wish you’d been there.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Julia made oatmeal for breakfast. Can I bring you some?”
“No, I’ll come down. I’m just going to get dressed.”
“Okay.” He kisses my cheek. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
I let the water cascade over my face. My eyes are closed but I can still see Julia’s smiling face, see the way her arm was curled protectively around Dylan. A sigh escapes my lips and morphs into a sob. I don’t often let the depression consume me but I know already that it’s going to be a bad day.
I eat only a small amount of the oatmeal. Julia is conspicuous by her absence but I don’t ask where she is. I spotted her car through my window when I was getting dressed, but Sunday is her day off and I know she’s been busy – the spotless kitchen and cooling pot of oatmeal on the stove-top are proof.
“Done?” Nick asks, gesturing at my bowl. I nod. “We should get going.”
“Do we really have to go? The doctors are open tomorrow. I’m sure one more day isn’t going to make a difference.”
“We really have to go, Evie.”
It’s pointless arguing. I know if I do I’ll earn myself a lecture about being irresponsible concerning my health. With my compromised immune system one day can make all the difference. I sigh my acceptance and get to my feet, when a thought occurs to me.
“Are we taking the kids with us?” I ask Nick as he plays peek-a-boo with Casey.
“No. Julia said she’d watch them.” Her name sounds so easy on his lips now, compared to when she first came to live with us.
“Doesn’t she visit her dad on Sundays?”
“She said she’d take them with her if she goes.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Julia comes downstairs as we’re preparing to leave. “How are you feeling?” she asks, eying the suitcase in Nick’s hand with trepidation.
“It’s just in case,” I assure her. “If they want to keep me overnight for observation it would be pointless coming all the way home to pack.”
“Do you think they’ll make you stay?” She’s genuinely upset.
“With any luck they’ll tell Nick to stop being paranoid,” I tease, and even Nick smiles.
Neither of us are smiling an hour later.
“You’ve developed mild pneumonia,” the stern-faced doctor at the
emergency room says. “It’s not too serious, but with your already compromised immune system, I’d like to keep you in for a day or two. We can’t afford for it to get any worse.”
“What can you do here that I can’t do at home?” I ask.
“I’m going to administer the antibiotic through an IV,” he says, “and we need to get some fluids into you – you’re slightly dehydrated as well as being underweight. With your condition, it’s only natural,” he adds, as Nick’s face flushes with guilt and I know he’s wishing he’d forced me to eat more oatmeal this morning.
“I’ll be in touch with your specialist,” the doctor – Riggs, according to the name badge on his chest – continues. He rifles through the file on his desk. “Doctor Moxley, is it?”
“Yes.” Nick replies while I examine my shoes. “Evie saw him just this past week.”
“Well I’ll leave a message for him to contact me, but I doubt there’s anything he’ll want to add with regards to treatment. Pneumonia is fairly common and you’re in good hands, Evie.”
“Thank you,” I mumble.
Nick helps me to my ward and settles me into the creaking hospital bed. He averts his eyes as a smiling nurse hooks up my IV and checks my vitals.
“What would you like for lunch?” she asks pleasantly, indicating the menu on the trolley table. “Surprise me,” I say, not bothering to pick it up.
Her smile doesn’t falter. “The chicken seems to be popular this week. I’ll be back to check on you shortly. Just buzz if you need anything.” She bustles out, her soft moccasins making no sound on the gleaming tiled floor.
Nick hands me the remote for the TV. The dividing curtain emits a screech as he yanks it open, revealing a large woman in the bed opposite mine.
“You sure you don’t want me to reserve a private room?” Nick asks. The woman is snoring softly, her lower lip resting on a jowl.
“No,” I insist, “the company will be good for me.”
Fumbling for something to do, trying to act as though this is an entirely normal situation, Nick fills the glass tumbler on my bedside table with water and hands it to me. The perfect patient, I drink it all before settling back on the pillows. I’m already bored. The large woman across from me gives a snort, then falls silent. We hold our breaths but a second later she resumes her soft snoring and I fight the urge to giggle.