by Fleur Smith
She tilted her head so that she could capture his mouth and let her desire flow into her kisses, until she remembered her guest downstairs again. “Yeah, I’m sure. I have a headache.”
“You know what’s good for headaches?” His hand moved from her ass to her chest.
Somewhat reluctantly, she dragged herself from his arms. “Sorry, Drew, I’m just really tired. Tomorrow?”
He sighed when it became clear that she was definitely throwing him out. “Yeah, sure. I have a late shift though, so can I just come around after that?”
It seemed like they had fallen into a pattern of just fighting and fucking, but regardless, Becca found herself nodding.
“Yeah, that’ll be great.”
She kissed him goodbye, trying not to let herself get carried away again when his tongue stroked against hers, or when his hand caressed her back as he dipped her to deepen her kiss.
Once she was certain he was gone, she walked past the pile of unopened presents on her kitchen counter and headed into the darkroom.
She hadn’t even reached the bottom of the stairs before Evan’s stress struck her like a physical blow. She was used to feeling all of his positive emotions, but she’d rarely felt the negative. He must have been more stressed than she’d thought and that knowledge set her on edge. What could have happened?
When she peered into the darkness, she saw him pacing around the room in a series of short, sharp steps before spinning quickly on his heel and racing back the other way.
“What is it?” she asked, beginning to grow terrified about what might be causing him to react so strongly.
“Becca!” Evan leapt around with her name a cry on his lips.
She’d obviously startled him, but didn’t see how. She’d never been able to before.
“So, um, what was it you wanted to talk about?” I don’t want to know the answer to that, do I?
He rushed to her side and grabbed her hand, leading her over to her developing counter. “I was wrong.”
She pulled herself up onto the counter. “What about?”
“About you.”
She frowned.
“Specifically, about who might be good for you.”
“I don’t understand,” she admitted. “What are you saying?”
“I—I don't want you to be with him, with Drew,” he stammered.
“What? Why?”
“I don’t think he’s your match.”
Hearing a cupid telling her that her boyfriend wasn’t right for her made her doubt her choices even more. But she and Drew were compatible, she was sure of it. Even after only a little over a month, she felt more for him than she’d ever had for anyone else—ever. Sure they had some things to work out, but who didn’t after a month?
And what about the emotions Evan had shown her? That hadn’t been faked.
“Why not?” If she was going to doubt, she wanted concrete reasons for it.
“Because he’s not. He’s so wrong for you, it hurts.”
“Okay then, but who else would put up with me exactly?”
Evan turned pink. It was almost as if the safety light was on and not the overhead light. He seemed to mouth a word, but she couldn’t tell what it was.
“What is it?” she asked. “Are you feeling alright?”
He cleared his throat. “I said, ‘me.’”
“What?” Becca was certain she’d misheard again. It was impossible that Evan was . . .
That he’d . . .
She felt lightheaded and was certain the room was starting to spin. I didn’t have that much wine, did I?
Evan leapt forward, his arms in front of him as if he was itching to hold her but holding himself back. “I know I'm nothing compared to him. He's everything you ever wanted, more than you dreamed you deserved. He's Adonis and I'm Eros, and that thought kills me because you deserve Adonis. You deserve everything, but I can't stand by and not let you know how I feel. How I know that he’s wrong for you, because I’m the one who’s right. I should be the one who gets to share your life, Becca and it kills me that I can’t be.”
“Wh—what are you saying?” her world had tilted off its axis and she wasn't sure how to right it. Does Evan have feelings for me?
“I love you.”
Her stomach fluttered as he said the words. Cathy and Drew had both been so convinced that Evan had feelings for her, but she hadn’t believed them. Not the least. Hearing the words from his own mouth though? That solidified everything for her. Her mind raced through every smile, every glance, every touch. Tingles of excitement ran through her body as she considered what he’d said. Do I have feelings for him too?
She didn’t have time to consider it before he continued, “I've loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I don't want to leave your side. I’ll do everything I can to stay, but I’m sorry, I can't be here while you're with Drew any more. It makes me physically ill to watch the two of you together. And that's wrong, I know it's wrong, but I can't stop it.
“I've watched you blossom under his love, but I've also seen parts of you whither. Parts that he wants to prune so that he can shape you into what he wants you to be. I don't want to prune any part of you; I love you just the way you are. I can't lose you to another man, not again.” He hung his head as he finished his monologue.
Becca plunged her fingers into the thick curls on her head as she turned away from Evan, putting some distance between them so that she could try to come to terms with what he was telling her. There was one thing which stuck out, struck her as odd.
“Not again?” she murmured in question. “What does that mean? What are you saying?”
When she turned back at Evan's continued silence, he was looking at her with hazel eyes filled with guilt and self-hatred.
“It’s nothing,” he said, dropping his gaze and turning away from her. “I shouldn't have said anything.”
“No, tell me what you meant. You can’t say something like that and just clam up. It’s not fair.”
For a moment, as Becca stared at the back of his head, willing the world to make sense again, she thought that he wasn't going to explain himself, but then he dropped his head and turned back to her.
“I lied to you,” he whispered to the floor before lifting his head slightly and reaching one hand out for her.
Becca treated the limb as if it were a snake that might bite her. She was beyond confused and her heart was almost painful as it pounded steadily against her ribcage. It didn’t help that she was still being buffeted by waves of Evan’s negative emotions. “What?”
“I told you I fell off a cliff fifty years ago, but that's not what happened.”
Evan's gaze lifted back to hers and he seemed to be imploring her to do . . . something. All she could do was stare in shock at the cupid confessing his love for her before admitting that he'd lied. “I didn't fall, I jumped.”
“Why?” She hardly recognized her own voice, didn't feel in control of her own thoughts, and couldn’t understand anything in the world anymore.
“Because the love of my life was snatched from me by a cruel man who no longer wanted her for himself, but couldn't let anyone else have her either.”
“What's that got to do with me?”
“She’s you.”
“Please, Evan, I need you to start making some sense,” Becca pleaded.
“I know it's hard to believe, but she's you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Her soul was recycled, sent back to live again. And she lives in you.”
Becca felt like he'd shot an arrow through her heart, and not a pleasant one that made her feel warm inside. Recycled. The word sounded so cold and clinical. Worse, so dirty. Here was her cupid telling her that he was in love with her, that he wanted to be her perfect match, but only because of some resemblance she bore to his long lost love.
“Let me get this right, when you said you loved me just before, you were actually declaring your undying love to someone else.”<
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“No. I mean, yes. Kind of, but you have to understand,” he said. “I loved Rose, so much. But that’s not the reason I—”
“Rose?” She could barely say the name but memories flooded her mind. His sad, wistful expression when they’d been near her family’s plot and the sorrow that had overtaken his infectious smile. The questions about the photos she’d taken of her family’s graves.
It couldn’t be, could it?
Evan blinked at her, before starting again, obviously trying to draw her attention away from the name he’d uttered. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t just see her when I see you, not any—”
“Rose?” she repeated. She had to know whether her hunch was right. “Rose? As in my great-aunt Rose?”
He dropped his head, his silence confirming more than his words ever could.
Snatches of memories from years ago, of her nana telling her about Rose and how she’d been murdered by her husband, came flooding into her mind together with all the times her nana would hold her hand and tell Becca how much she reminded her nana of her great-aunt Rose; that their looks were so similar. Then a memory of the last time she’d seen her nana; when Becca was sitting at her hospital bedside while her nana smiled and called her Rose before closing her eyes and moving on. None of them had seemed especially significant to her before, but in light of what Evan was saying, maybe it was true. Maybe she had lived before.
Loved before.
Loved Evan before.
The thought made her stomach churn and her head ache. It was as if she’d gone straight to the hangover part of having too much to drink without really having consumed a significant quantity of alcohol.
Evan stepped closer to her, brushing his hand against her cheek, but she recoiled in disgust. He’d been the catalyst for the murder, he might not have killed Rose himself but his pursuit of her, despite her being married, was part of the reason for her death. Then he’d what? Thrown himself off a cliff in a fit of self-pity. Had he even spared a single thought for the people left behind to grieve? Did he care about his family?
And now he’s claiming that the suicide inspiring love was reborn in me?
Her stomach spun and she wondered if she was going to hurl.
“Becca?” he questioned, glancing up at her. He frowned in response to something he saw there.
She didn’t know what he saw in her eyes, but she knew what she felt in her heart. The realization that all of their time together had been nothing more than penance and a yearning to go back to what might have been under different circumstances hurt more than she’d ever thought it could.
But despite what he’d said, she wasn’t her great-aunt.
She wasn’t going to live someone else’s life. She didn’t want to be loved for who she reminded him of. She was worth more than that and deserved someone who loved her completely. Even if she had been willing to accept those terms for love, how could she ever trust him? Despite everything he’d told her from their very first meeting, he’d hidden so much from her. He’d hidden the most important stuff in her opinion.
“Get out.” Her voice was cold and quiet, absent of all emotion—even anger. She worked hard to keep it all under control so that he wouldn’t have the excuse of being in pain to stop him from moving away from her. “Get out of my house.”
“Becca, please?”
She shook her head to silence him. “Get out of my life.”
Before she’d even had a chance to blink, he’d disappeared.
If he knows what was good for him, he’ll stay gone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The moment that Evan left Becca’s sight, she twisted around to lean on the counter while she waited for the nausea to pass. The blood gushing through her heart sped the minimal wine she’d drank during the night through her veins, making her feel even more dizzy. The thump-thump-thump of her blood echoed around her ears, causing her temples to throb and her head to ache.
How am I supposed to cope with this?
Overall, she believed that she’d been fairly understanding about the whole cupid thing. She’d certainly stopped and listened more than most sane people would have. Evan’s latest revelation was too much though.
She figured that if this day had been part of a romantic comedy movie it was probably about the time the sad music would swell, with Eric Carmon’s sultry voice belting out a few bars of All by Myself. It wasn’t a movie though, and Becca was left alone with no way of coping with what she’d been through. At least, not without being assigned to a psychiatrist. She barely understood it all herself, how could she even attempt to explain it to someone else without sounding completely crazy.
Eventually, she was able to pull herself together enough to make her way back up the stairs and into her kitchen. She ignored the pile of unopened gifts on the counter, grabbed a bottle of wine and headed for her bedroom.
By the time she’d finished the bottle, she had tears in her eyes even though she couldn’t really say why. The only thing she could put it down to was that whatever else he’d been, Evan was her friend. Or had been. Even though he’d only been in her life for a short time, they’d spent hours talking about her day, about her past, her dreams, her life. For a little over a month, he’d been her rock and her confidant. She sobbed as she realized they’d had deeper conversations than she’d ever shared with anyone, even Drew—and he was supposed to be her boyfriend. She gave herself over to a night of tears as the shock of Evan’s revelation wore its way through her system.
When she woke the next morning, Becca didn’t feel like going in to work. She didn’t even feel like dragging herself out of bed. Instead, she grabbed her cell phone off her bedside table and called in sick.
She knew it was bad form, that everyone would assume that she was simply too hung-over to function. She didn’t really care if that’s what they thought though. And besides, it was partly true.
Reluctantly, she climbed out of bed and headed for the kitchen, but only for long enough to grab some painkillers and a glass of water. Then she dragged herself back into bed where she stayed until there was a knock on the door sometime in the middle of the afternoon.
The knock became a pound before she could reach the door.
“Rebecca Lewis you open this door right now or so help me I’ll come in there and make you open it!” Cathy’s voice shouted through the wood.
Becca ignored the lack of logic in the remark—if Cathy was in the house, she wouldn’t need to be opening the door—and pulled the door open before blinking in the bright sunlight that followed her friend into the house.
“What are you doing?” Cathy demanded.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re never sick. More than that, you never call in sick after a party, especially considering you were barely drinking. And you are certainly never in your pajamas at four in the afternoon. So what gives?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Becca said, earning her a bitch-brow and a look that said, “You know exactly what I mean” in return. “Fine, I had a visitor after Drew left last night.”
It wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Cathy didn’t specifically need to know that the visitor had been living in her darkroom for the better part of six weeks.
Cathy grabbed her arm and led her to the sofa.
“Who was it?” she asked, her voice full of scandal and intrigue.
“Evan.”
The corner of Cathy’s lips lifted into the beginning of a smile before she caught herself. “And?”
“And you were right.”
“He’s so in love with you.” Cathy giggled.
The reminder of the conversation from the previous evening made her stomach twist. “Yeah, apparently.”
“You know I have to say it, don’t you? I don’t get the chance very often, so when I do, I have to say it.”
Becca motioned for her to do what she had to.
“I told you so!” Cathy’s giggle echoed through the house.
It wa
s the complete opposite emotion to the one winding through Becca’s body.
“What is it? Are you worried about how you’ll tell Drew?” The way Cathy spoke, it was like it was a forgone conclusion that she’d pick Evan.
“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Cath.”
“Why? He likes you, and it’s clear you liked him too. What’s the problem?”
“He only likes me because I remind him of—” Becca caught herself just in time and replaced the story of her great-aunt with the next best thing “—of an old girlfriend of his.” It was mostly accurate after all.
“He told you that?”
Becca shrugged. “Pretty much.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“Does it really matter?”
“It might. Maybe you remind him of her just because you’re his type. I mean granted it’s not a great way to admit you love someone, but he’s a man. Men fuck up all the time.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. I told him to leave.” Tears pricked at Becca’s eyes again, but she refused to let them fall.
“Oh, Becca.” Cathy threw her arms around her. “I’m sorry. I know how much you liked him.”
Becca didn’t have the energy to correct her friend and remind her once more that it was Drew she liked; Drew that she was in a relationship with. Evan was nothing more than the conduit for the spark that created that relationship.
Even as Becca had the thought, she knew it was wrong. It occurred to her that all the times she’d looked to Evan to get a hit of the emotions that she’d been so certain emanated from him in a reflection of what she felt for Drew that what she was actually feeling was his love for her—and possibly what was in her own heart. She shut down the dangerous notion before it had time to take root and tangle its way through her heart. It was bad enough to know that her cupid had apparently been in love with the reflection of her aunt in her. To consider the fact that she might have had genuine feelings for him, ones that extended just a little further than the friendship she’d thought she felt, was a little too much to cope with.
“Why don’t I go get us some coffee?” Cathy suggested.
