“Buggy…” Catalina scolded.
“Oh, it’s okay, Olivia. A little chocolate never hurt anybody.” Evan leaned over and winked at Olivia. He patted a napkin on the spot.
Asa started babbling and throwing his food on the ground. Everybody but Catalina laughed. She let out a nervous sigh.
The conversation started to pick up around her. Asking how far along Bonnie was, if they wanted a boy or a girl, cooing over Asa, Olivia chatting about how she wishes she were a big sister.
Marie tried her best to soothe Olivia and change the subject but Catalina had already heard. She tilted her head up and her eyes started to water. Images flashed in her mind. She always thought her and Hudson would have two kids. A boy. A girl. A family of four to even them out. A little boy with dark wavy hair like hers, eyes like Hudson’s. He would take the boy fishing or maybe he would play soccer. He could wear a bow tie at Christmas time and Catalina would have to get used to cleaning muddy clods of dirt out of his clothes.
Evan caught Catalina’s eye. His blue eyes were light in the afternoon sun pouring through the window. He was wearing a light blue sweater that looked so soft, Catalina wanted to reach out and touch it, rub it between her pointer and middle fingers, rub her cheek against it.
His gaze was kind, and on a different day Catalina would have interpreted that look as one of pity, but she was too sad to be angry. She would never have more children with Hudson or otherwise. The thought hadn’t occurred to her before, just another change that Hudson’s death thrust upon her life, hitting her over the head with a hard anvil of reality.
The future where she and Hudson had two and a half kids and a Golden Retriever and retired to Florida would never happen.
Evan smiled at her softly, sadly, and nodded. The quirk of his cheek made it dimple. She nodded shortly, too. Catalina knitted her eyebrows together, and the tears she thought would come didn’t. The future was markedly different now, the choices were different. But she had choices to make. They just weren’t what she expected.
I’m okay, she mouthed at him. He pursed his lips then kicked her foot a little under the table, which made her smile.
She could do it. She could live forward in time, a reality unlike the one she’d imagined, but it didn’t mean that she couldn’t enjoy herself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Evan loaded up Cat’s kitchen with all sorts of gluten-free, vegan treats and some with full fat butter and lots of milk. Danishes, cupcakes, puff pastries, doughnuts, and cookies littered the countertop.
Showing up at her door with his arms loaded with the goodies made him flush hot red to the tips of his ears and his mouth godry, but watching Cat devour everything he put in front of her was worth it.
“I still don’t know how you manage to eat all that.” Evan shook his head, peeking into the half-empty Bower’s Bakery boxes and bags spread out.
“Hey! I can’t help it that I enjoy good food. Is that a crime all of a sudden?” Catalina quirked an eyebrow at him and slapped him playfully across the chest.
The sudden contact made him gulp audibly, and he quickly cleared his throat.
“No, I didn’t mean anything like that. I am just surprised. I wish I knew earlier that you liked this stuff so much. I would’ve been bringing it over all this time.” He smiled to himself. It was nice to have someone to share his passion for baking. You’d think after growing up in a bakery that he would be completely sick of it by now, but it seemed to be his calling.
He felt lighter, happier when he baked. It helped keep the darkness away.
“Oh, I’m glad you didn’t. Speaking of it, I should probably hit the gym eventually. I think I ate three bear claws this morning alone.” She puffed out her cheeks to show that she was full.
“Nah, you’re perfect the way you are.” Evan met her gaze for a brief moment. The look in her eyes made his chest feel heavy. Oh shit. Look away. Don’t be weird.
She turned her head and scooted to the kitchen table.
“So, let’s work on that business plan of yours. You’ll be getting a business loan in no time.” She brought out some pads of paper and pens. She insisted they start working on the business plan as soon as possible for Evan’s specialty bakery business. The idea still made his hands sweat, and the verbal abuse track that his mother was so well known for played loudly in his mind.
“Are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t have any real plans right now.” Evan rubbed at the back of his neck. He would rather be doing almost anything else.
“Don’t you have a business degree?” She arched an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, but I didn’t really plan on using that to start a new business, just run my family’s. Plus, college was a total blur.”
“Well, that’s why you need a business plan. It’s to help you figure out what you’re doing. It gives you a guideline, measurable goals, outlines the next six months, year, and so on. Even if the bank doesn’t need it, it’s good to have for yourself.”
“I didn’t realize you were so business savvy.”
Catalina scoffed. “Excuse you, sir. I didn’t run the business, but I helped sometimes with the auto shop. I know how things are supposed to go.”
Evan sat next to her at the table as she shifted a pad of paper and pen in front of him. Her forearm brushed little against his.
She cleared her throat. “Okay, let’s start with a business name.”
“Wait. I have a question before we start this.”
“Evan. Is something going on? You’re acting like you’re about to get a root canal. This process is largely painless, I promise you.”
“Eh. I have my own…reservations about it. But I want to know why you’re helping me.”
She drew squiggly lines at the top of the blank page in front of her, avoiding his eyes.
“I guess it’s good to keep busy? I don’t have time to sit and think too long if I’m doing something.”
“Yeah, thinking isn’t always fun.” Evan tapped the pen on the tabletop. Thinking led to being sad and being sad could lead to days on end where you didn’t feel like yourself. If you thought too much and fell into the sadness pit, there was almost no way of getting out.
“Does it help you to keep busy?” Catalina said.
“Yeah. I bake. I see you and Olivia. I work a lot.”
“Olivia helps, but sometimes seeing her just makes me sadder. There’s so much of him in her sometimes. And now…now I realize that I won’t ever have more children.” Her voice cracked as she finished her sentence. Evan gently placed his hand over hers.
He’d seen it in her eyes after Bonnie and Gene announced they were having another little one.
“You know, I know you’re disappointed that the future looks differently now, but that doesn’t mean it has to be a bad thing.” A lump formed in his throat. He shouldn’t be the one comforting Cat. Hudson should be in their kitchen, holding his wife’s hand and wiping away her tears. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.
“Olivia wanted to be a big sister.” Catalina coughed and wiped a few stray tears off her cheeks. She turned her head away so he was looking at the back of her head.
“I know, but you are two tough ladies. Cat, you got blown up and you are still here. Grief is a process. It’s not always easy to do.”
“You sound like a therapist.”
“Yeah. It’s one of those things they call ‘coping skills’ and ‘support systems.’”
“You go to therapy?” She looked at him sideways, furling her eyebrows.
“Of course.” Evan smiled with one corner of his mouth. “I hear all the cool kids are doing it nowadays.”
Once upon a time, he never would’ve been caught dead in a therapist’s office. Talk about feelings? Talk about the past? What good was that when you worked so hard your whole life to repress things, shove those feelings deep down inside? Feelings about your shitty mom, the inappropriate feelings for your dead best friend’s widow, feelings about how you’d never be good enough t
o do anything.
After Hudson died, something broke inside of Evan. It was a reminder of his mortality, of the things he still wanted to accomplish, of the years he wasted being too scared to do anything that he wanted. He wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t eating. He lost himself. He was smashed open and raw. His friends saw that. Bonnie practically made the appointment for him, but it wasn’t so bad when you got used to it. If anything, it helped him put into words what Catalina and Olivia must be feeling.
“Hmm. I didn’t think you were the type,” Catalina said.
“What? I don’t strike you as in tune with my emotions?” He scoffed and playfully bumped his shoulder into hers. “Now, where were we? Business name?”
*
“She’s finally asleep. She didn’t want to go to bed—she wanted to play some more with you,” Catalina said as she exited Olivia’s bedroom.
Evan was straightening up the living room, putting puzzle pieces back into a box. He had spent the afternoon with them, doing puzzles with Olivia, singing a bunch of Disney songs that even Catalina hadn’t heard in years, and helping set the table while she made them a spaghetti dinner.
“Thanks for hanging out with us. You don’t have to, you know,” she said sheepishly as she went into the kitchen to wipe down the counter tops.
“Already kicking me out, Cat?” Evan laughed. He threw a bottle into the recyclables container next to her.
“No. I didn’t mean that, I meant that you didn’t have to do all this.” She gestured around her and tilted her head toward Olivia’s room.
“You guys are helping me more than I think you realize. It’s really nice to get out of the house. Do something other than work. I realize now that I should have been spending more time with Olivia all these years anyway. I got busy.”
“Is that why you didn’t come around much?” Catalina asked as she wiped the same spot on the counter. He avoided her. She felt it. He looked away whenever she managed to come into his line of sight. He stepped out of the room with an excuse anytime that he could.
“I was giving you guys your space,” he said, frowning slightly. “I didn’t think you liked me much.”
“To be honest, I didn’t think you liked me. You never talked to me,” she said, stilling her hands.
“You are my best friend’s girl. I didn’t have much to say,” he said quietly. He looked at the floor. Catalina saw the top of his wild, blond hair, mentally willing his eyes to meet hers. He was hiding something. Catalina wasn’t always good at reading social situations and frustration was her default response to a lot of interactions, but there was a niggling thought that he wasn’t showing all his cards.
God, his eyelashes are impossibly long. They’re like little golden rays of light. And I could probably stare at them all day.
She cleared her throat. What the hell were we talking about? Oh yeah.
She wasn’t Hudson’s girl, not anymore, but she didn’t correct him.
“I guess I could have been more friendly.” She smiled to herself. “Crap. Olivia can’t be leaving her crayons all over the place. One of us is going to slip on it and bust an ankle.” She bent down to pick it up and then reached over to drop it into the junk drawer.
“You have a tattoo?” Evan blurted out. His face was bright red. The flush was creeping over his neck and down into the collar of his shirt.
“Uh…yeah. I do.” Catalina pulled up the back of her shirt. She had gotten a small orange butterfly tattoo in the small of her back during Spring Break their senior year. Gillian had driven Bonnie and her down to the shore. They had spent the day getting sun drunk on the beach, and Gillian pressured Catalina into picking out a design at the tattoo parlor. “It’s small.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have been looking—I mean, I’m sorry. I think I better go,” Evan stuttered. He quickly shuffled out of the kitchen. “Bye. See you later.”
He mumbled as he shut the door behind him.
Catalina was left holding a dishrag in her hands and twisted it in her fingers.
“What the hell was that about?” She took a deep breath. It didn’t offend her that he mentioned the tattoo. Hell, she even forgot it was there most days. It’s not like she spent a ton of time looking at her own back. Yet she stood in the quiet kitchen, clenching her fists and tapping them softly on them countertop and her blood boiled more by the minute. What the hell was wrong with her that Evan always treated her like this?
So I can’t even exist in the world with a tattoo without offending him? I didn’t even do anything this time. He was just a prude who couldn’t understand a little youthful indiscretion She stood there, gripping the edge of the counter until her feet started to fall asleep.
She wanted to call his ass back into her house, make him explain himself. She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and tell him to get a grip.
“Fuck it.” She pulled down the bottle of white rum from the cabinet above the stove. It was a little dusty. She and Hudson rarely drank after Olivia was born. They were too busy. Sometimes Hudson would have a couple of beers with dinner and fall asleep on the couch, but that was as wild and crazy as they got.
Now Catalina cracked open a soda and poured herself a stiff rum and Coke. She took a sip, grimaced when the rum burned down her throat, but recovered and drank the rest of it while she stood in the kitchen. She made herself another drink and went to sit on the couch. What she wanted to do was call Evan out for acting like a freaking weirdo, but getting drunk would just have to do.
*
Her head was pounding. She was laying face first on her pillow, a large drool stain soaking her cheek and lips. She groaned and pushed the hair from her eyes. The sun was bright through the blinds and it hurt her eyes even with them still shut. Her mouth tasted sour. She had definitely vomited the night before. She looked around the room as best she could. It was still a bit blurry though; her eyes hadn’t quite adjusted. She didn’t see or smell any puke in the room, so she must have made it to the bedroom. How much of that rum did she drink?
She struggled to remember. Three drinks? She was watching television and sipping from her glass. She had tried to call Bonnie to complain about how Evan had ran out on her…
Oh no.
Evan.
He was in her house.
She had drunk dialed him.
She stood up too quickly. Her head spun and the bile rose in the back of her throat. Her shirt was wrinkled, and she was still wearing her jeans. She stumbled out of the bedroom and rubbed her forehead with the heel of her palm.
“Mommy! Evan said you weren’t feeling well. Are you okay?” Olivia was still in her pajamas, parked in front the television with cartoons playing. She was lying on her stomach, picking at a plate of scrambled eggs on the floor.
“Yeah. I’m fine, baby. Where’s Evan?” she mumbled. Her mouth was dry.
“He slept on the couch like it was sleepover! He’s in the kitchen,” Olivia called out over her shoulder. There was a neat pile of folded blankets and a pillow in the corner of the couch.
Catalina turned the corner into the kitchen. Evan was standing at the sink, hands in the soapy water. He was washing up from making breakfast. Catalina cleared her throat. Dammit, that hurt. Note to self: freaking hydrate next time you get shit-faced and then have to confront someone about being an idiot.
“Um…hi,” she managed to blurt out, something she hoped sounded friendly.
“Hi,” he said without turning around. She could see the muscles in his shoulders tense under his blue t-shirt. The thick muscles in his forearms twisted and flexed as he scrubbed the frying pan.
“So…thank you for being here this morning. Making breakfast for Olivia.” She picked at the nail on her thumb. She pulled on it a little too long and a bead of blood started to pool at the corner of her finger. She quickly put her finger in her mouth and sucked the blood away. She hissed slightly under her breath. Now her mouth tasted sour and coppery. It wasn’t good
for her nausea.
Evan turned his head slightly over his shoulder. His hands stilled in the water. His jaw tensed and Catalina saw the shadow of it under the light blond scruff growing on his cheek.
“No problem. I’m always happy to be here for her.”
“Look, I know I must have been an ass last night, but to be honest, I don’t remember much. I had a few drinks and then I must have called you and fell asleep in my clothes.” She licked her lips. The skin on them was tight. She heard Olivia giggle from the other room. “And contrary to what you might think, I don’t usually do that. I haven’t gotten into my liquor stash in a long time, except for that time with Gil. I don’t want you to think that I’m some sort of drunk.”
His shoulders relaxed a little. He hung his head in front of him and wiped his hands dry on the dish towel laying on the counter.
“I don’t think you’re a drunk, Cat.” He sighed. “You really don’t remember anything?”
“No. I can’t. I’m trying. I remember wanting to call Bonnie. I remember very vaguely calling you and you coming over, but I don’t remember much more.” He tensed again and turned on his heel toward her. He leaned back on the counter, resting his hands on either side of him.
He scrunched his eyebrows together. The wrinkles in his forehead had never looked so deep, so disappointed. He looked like he was about to scold a teenage daughter for breaking curfew. He had dark circles under his eyes. His terribly, impossibly blue eyes that showed hurt. She rubbed the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb.
“Really. I’m trying to remember.” She groaned. “You came in and … you were wearing a black jacket? But you smelled like cigarettes. Do I remember that right? Do you smoke?” she asked, leaning toward him a little, trying to catch a whiff off of him, despite knowing that if she smelled any cigarettes she would probably throw up on the spot. Nausea was churning her stomach fiercely.
Recovery Road Page 6
