by Kally Ash
“I don’t love you.” Stepping back, he began closing the door, pausing once more to put the final nail in the coffin. “And I don’t want you.”
His hands clenched into fists, which he released almost immediately. “Because my mom needed medical treatment and it was fucking expensive," he growled, feeling his embarrassment rise. He looked down at his mug. "We couldn't afford anything other than the basics. The drugs, the treatment... it all cost a lot. Mom needed full-time care...”
“What did that have to do with me?”
He sighed. “I didn’t deserve you, Vee. I wanted you to have the best life possible—”
“And I would have, Beau. With you.”
He shook his head. “What could I have offered you? I was flat broke. I had no college degree. No job prospects. My dreams of becoming an architect were shot to fucking pieces, and I had a dying mother to top it all off.” Reaching across the table, he took her hand. “If you’d stayed with me, you would’ve been dragged down with me. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if that happened.”
She withdrew her hand. “You should’ve let me decide that.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Evangeline nodded, but he knew he was far from being forgiven. She cleared her throat. “Your mom was sick for nearly four years?"
"Yeah. She had chemo, but in the end she'd decided she didn’t want to keep going through the treatment." He shrugged. "In the end, it was hell seeing her so sick and feeling like I couldn't do anything to help her."
"Christ." Vee's epithet was spoken slowly and quietly. With tears in her eyes, she said, "I'm sorry."
He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Thank you."
"And I'm sorry I missed her funeral."
He shrugged. "You didn't know."
It was her turn to clear her throat, only this time, he heard her remorse. "I loved your mom."
"I know."
For a beat, there was silence until finally she said, "I wish you'd tried to call me. My number hasn’t changed since college."
"I wish I had too," he replied. "I just... couldn't. I was embarrassed by how I’d acted and what I’d said."
She frowned slightly. "Why didn’t you just tell me the truth? Did you think I wouldn't understand?"
"I don't know."
She looked down at her iced tea and began stabbing the straw into the ice cubes. "I was so angry with you, Beau."
Hope rose in him. "You were angry?"
Her hard, dark eyes met his face. "I'm still fucking pissed off at you, asshole."
Her outburst drew the attention of some of the other customers sitting around them. Flashing them an apologetic smile, he said to Vee, "Can you keep your voice down?"
"Fuck you," she growled. "When you dumped me—rejected me like that—you—" Her mouth shut with an audible click. In a lower voice she said, "You made me not want to let anyone else in."
He nodded solemnly. "So, where do we go from here?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you mean."
"I mean, can we at least be friends again? I've missed having you in my life, Vee. You were my best friend before we became lovers. When I saw you the other night, I thought I'd been dreaming."
"Friends," she murmured, talking to herself. Beau gave her a moment to process his request. He knew from experience that pushing her to do something she didn't want to do would always end in her digging in her heels; she was as stubborn as a mule. When her eyes refocused on him again, her expression was unreadable. "I don't think I can do that."
"But—"
"Look, Beau, I just can't," she said scornfully. "Let it go."
"I feel like what we had was something special," he pressed. He didn't want her to just blow him off—he had to get her to see.
She scoffed at his words. She'd grown cynical in these past few years. "Are you writing for Hallmark now?"
"Let me prove it to you. Let me remind you of how good we are together."
He watched her expression carefully, waiting to see her hard eyes soften. But they never did. "It's over, Beau."
The words he had thrown at her were now being tossed at him, and it felt like swallowing glass. "I—"
"Pastrami on rye and a garden burger," the waitress announced, placing their orders down in front of them. Beau stared at his sandwich like it had just cock-blocked him.
"Anything else I can get you?" she said, a little too brightly.
"We're fine," he ground out.
The woman's eyes widened a little at his tone. "Well, let me know if there's something else you need." She quickly left their table, letting the hostility suffocate him for a minute.
"All I'm asking for is one chance, Vee."
Evangeline thought about what he’d said as she watched Beau's expression change when he bit into the sandwich. She remembered doing exactly the same thing when they were a couple. She could have looked at him for hours—had done just that once before. He was still the most gorgeous man she'd ever known. Listening to him talking about their relationship made her want to try, but she refused to be hurt again.
Taking a bite from her burger, she let herself memorize every single detail of his face and body. This would be the last time she'd let herself see him. Of course, her dreams were a different story—she would fantasize about him every damn night, she suspected. If her therapist were here, she would tell her she was denying herself happiness, but lucky for Vee, her therapist wasn't there, so that bitch didn't get an opinion.
As they both sat in silence, she longed to reach out and grab hold of his hand like she used to do when they were both desperately in love and recklessly foolish.
Your mother didn't have a choice in the matter. Evangeline heard her therapist's voice like she was sitting right beside her. She may not have had a choice, but her father sure had, and he'd still upped and left, leaving her to be palmed off to a spinster aunt before eventually finding her way into the welfare system. Her childhood hadn't been pretty, but she'd survived and made it to adulthood with only a few lifelong scars as a reminder.
"Did you graduate college?" Beau's question snapped her out her thoughts.
She nodded. "Barely, but I did. Not that it mattered in the end."
"I don't follow."
She shifted in her chair. "I didn't become the social worker I'd been training to be. Instead, I started working at a bar." She shrugged, uncomfortable with revealing so much so soon. She'd always been guarded, but Beau had been the one exception for her. It seemed time hadn't changed that about him either.
"Temptation?"
"Yeah. Started as a waitress, then became manager within two years. When the owner decided to sell the place, I put in everything I had to buy it."
"Ballsy move," Beau murmured, admiration shining in his eyes.
She didn't say anything, but the truth was, the club had become her home, and she clung to the concept, digging her nails in. "I should be able to pay off the loan next year."
"I read it’s the most popular nightclub in Hollywood."
"It won't be forever," she said in reply. "I need to be ready for that."
She looked at the time, seeing that she had to be back at the club to meet a supplier.
"You need to go," he said.
Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she placed it on her plate and stood up. "Duty calls."
"Can I see you again?" he asked, rising from his chair also.
"I don't think so."
His eyes hardened. "Why not, Vee?"
She felt her resolve crumble as he used her nickname. Taking in a breath, she said, "I said I'd give you an hour. You had it and now it's time to go our separate ways."
Even though her heart was breaking inside, she walked away from Beau before he could walk away from her, again. She dropped a fifty on the table, covering both of their meals before leaving the café. Her long stride ate up the distance back to the club, her desire to get away from Beau and all that he represented pressing on her lungs until
she felt breathless. Shoving her way through the large front security door, she made a beeline for the office, slamming the door shut behind her.
There was a knock, and for a heart-pounding second, she thought it was Beau. "Yeah?" she called out, working hard to keep the panic from her voice.
The knob turned and a man Evangeline had only met once before stuck his head into the room. "Evangeline, is now a good time?"
"Sure, Mike. Why wouldn't it be?" she replied.
He flushed. "Ah, I saw you rush in here. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Are things... okay?"
"They're fine." Her words were clipped, and she knew why everyone automatically assumed she was a bitch when they first met her. "Have a seat. We need to discuss the agreement, Mike."
When he was seated opposite her, she wiggled the mouse on her desk to wake up her computer. "We were discussing vodka, right?"
He nodded, pulling a tablet from his bag and placing it on the desk. "Yeah, plus the Bollinger orders."
"Right," she replied, clicking open the folder on her desktop.
An hour later, they had straightened out the supplier for her endless champagne demands at the club, plus a new celebrity-endorsed vodka that her customers were clambering over. Evangeline held out her hand and shook Mike's.
"Thank you for coming in, Mike. I appreciate your time."
He nodded, tucking the tablet more firmly under his arm as he swung his bag over his head to settle across his body. "I only wish all my owners and managers were as decisive as you."
Not the first time she'd been told that. She was very much a let's make a decision now kind of woman.
She nodded. "Thank you again. I'll walk you out."
Returning to her office, she was left alone with her thoughts, trying to sort through them all. Knowing that Beau hadn’t meant the things he’d said did help to ease the sting of rejection, but she was disappointed that he didn’t think he could share his fears with her. Did their relationship mean so little to him, or was he not all-in from the beginning? She knew she was. Beau had been her world, and in hindsight, maybe she shouldn’t have clung to him so tightly. That was the thing with being a kid in the foster system; affection didn’t come from a lot of places, so when it did come into her life, she’d taken hold of it hard and fast.
Putting her leg up on the desk, she pulled up the leg of her jeans and stared at the phoenix tattoo inked there. It had hurt like a bitch when she’d gotten it done, but wasn’t that the point? The phoenix represented Vee's life. From the ashes of a shitty childhood she had risen. At one time, she and Beau had talked about getting it done together—like a pact between them.
A pact…
That’s what she and Beau had promised.
Together forever.
Always.
It’s too bad words don’t last the test of time.
11
Beau watched Vee walk away from him, his eyes tracking her movements even as she disappeared out of sight. Well, he guessed it could’ve gone better. He had to take what Vee was willing to give right now. Draining the last of his coffee, he took the money she’d left on the table to the front counter.
“How was everything?” the young girl asked.
“Fine,” he told her tersely, earning himself a frown. “Thank you,” he tacked on.
She bobbed her head in understanding, pulling out the change. He stuffed it into the tip jar and left, fighting the urge to return to the club and demand Evangeline reconsider her decision. He resisted it though; she needed her space, and he understood that. Retracing his steps back to his car, he got in and started the long drive back home. The whole way back, he played and replayed their conversation, looking for a silver lining.
She knew the truth now—that had been the thing weighing on his mind the most. She also knew his mother had passed away, which had been just as important as knowing that he still wanted her. Yet... even knowing that, she rejected his idea of a friendship.
Maybe it was hopeless. He’d tried his best to make her see and convince her of his conviction. What else could he do or say? Perhaps he’d been right all those years ago—she was better off without him.
He arrived back at John’s apartment after five PM thanks to heavier-than-usual traffic coming into San Diego. He was emotionally and physically drained from both the drive and talking to Vee. All he wanted to do was have a fucking drink then go to bed. He opened up the front door to find John sitting at the small table in the kitchen. In front of him were about a dozen architect drafts.
“You’re home early,” he said by way of greeting.
John nodded. “Yeah. I wasn’t feeling too great this afternoon, so my boss told me to go home early. Where’ve you been?”
Beau took a seat at the table. “West Hollywood.”
His friend whistled through his teeth. “Evangeline?” At Beau’s nod, he asked, “How did it go?”
“Well, I told her the truth about what really happened four years ago,
and I told her my mom had passed.”
“How’d she take that news? They were pretty tight, right?”
“Right. She was upset—wanted to know why I didn’t try to call and tell her.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “I was still dealing with guilt from what I said to her.”
John set aside the draft he was looking at, giving Beau his full attention. “And what had you said to her?”
He swallowed over the lump in his throat, ready to come clean to his best friend. “I told her I didn’t love her, that I didn’t want her and we needed to see other people.”
“Fuck,” John replied, shaking his head. “That’s cold, man.”
“Yeah.” Beau was swamped with guilt. Standing up abruptly, he went to the fridge and took out two beers. He placed one in front of John.
“Why the fuck did you tell her that?”
Beau drank about half his beer in one hit. “I couldn’t give her what she deserved, man.” John didn’t say anything to that, letting him talk. “I was an unemployed college dropout looking after his terminally ill mother. Why would she want to stay with me?”
“Ah, because she fucking loved you, you asshole.”
“Loved, past tense. She doesn't want to have anything to do with me now.”
“And you’re just going to take that as her final answer? Really? I saw what you two were like in college. You were so in love…” He snatched the beer and took a drink. “I was so jealous of what you two had.”
Now it was Beau’s turn to be surprised. “You were?”
“Of course. You guys had this chemistry that was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing.” He shrugged. “But if you want to just give up on that, then that’s your decision.”
“It’s what’s best.”
“Bullshit. You want her back; I know you do.”
“It doesn't matter what I want. Vee has told me in no uncertain terms that she doesn’t want me.”
“What happened to the Beau I used to know—the one who didn’t take no for an answer and who went after what he wanted in life?”
Stunned and a little angry, Beau snapped, “He died when my mom got sick.”
John just shook his head. “Don’t let your mom’s illness be an excuse for you not to live your life. Do you think that’s what she’d want?”
Beau huffed. “No.”
Leaning forward in his chair, John pinned him with a serious look. “Then take your head out of your ass and go and get what you’ve always wanted—what you deserve.”
12
Buzz, buzzzzzzzzz, buzz.
Evangeline stirred at the sounds of her doorbell ringing. Fuck, what time was it?
Bang, bang, bang.
“Sorry, Mrs. Crocker,” she yelled, sliding out of bed. She pushed the button on her intercom. “The door’s open,” she said, knowing it was Max coming to pick her up for their run.
Padding back through to her room, she got changed, putting her hair up i
n a bun at the top of her head. Max was just letting himself in as she strolled out, her shoes dangling from her hand.
“I hate you,” she said, sitting on her couch to put her shoes on.
Max only grinned. “You love me. Besides, exercise is good to help manage your stress levels.”
“Whatever,” she muttered, tying up her shoes and standing up. “Let’s go.”
Outside her building, she took a moment to stretch her hamstrings while Max looked on in mild amusement.
“Getting a bit serious there, boss.”
“You’ll regret not stretching,” she shot back with a smile. Beau let her set the pace this time, and she made him really regret that decision. Like before, he lagged behind so much that she had to stop and let him catch up.
When he came to a stop, puffing, he asked, “What happened with that guy, the ex? Did you talk to him?”
“I did.”
“I take it by your tone that the talk didn’t go well.”
She sat down on a nearby park bench. “Look, I got the answers I was looking for, but I…” She hesitated.
“You don’t want to get hurt again.”
Max had read her thoughts, although she was sure it’d been pretty obvious. “I don’t. What happened with Beau changed how I view relationships and people in general.”
“Huh.”
“What?” Evangeline asked.
Grinning, he said, “I knew that ice-queen routine was a front.”
“Self-preservation at its finest,” she murmured. “And if you tell anyone this, I’ll fucking gut you.”
Throwing his head back, Max laughed. “I’ll take your secret to the grave.”
Later, Evangeline walked quickly to the bar, dying to get out of the heat of the day. It was rounding midday, and every suit, Botoxed bimbo, and unlucky bastard trying their luck at living the Hollywood dream was out, clogging up the sidewalks. Slipping between two businessmen—both on their phones—she kept weaving in and out of the crowd, finally arriving at the club. She pulled the keys from her pocket just as someone bumped into her, sending them flying out of her hand.
