by Carian Cole
“Evie, I’m not going to change my mind or get bored. I want us to date like normal people and get to know each other. I need you to believe that. I know shit sucks right now with you being with him and me being away and all the other crap we’ve been through, but I just wanna put it behind us when I get back home.”
“I do believe you... I just keep thinking what you told me in the truck, about how you don’t do relationships.”
“I didn’t. Not for a long time. Being stuck with you, talking to you, seeing your eyes light up, sleeping with you in my arms, fuckin’ arguing with you, turning you on... it all made me want this. Did I expect it? Hell no. But now that I feel it, I want it.”
I close my eyes and lean the phone against my face, absorbing his words, letting them seep into the deepest parts of me that are scared.
“Storm, the guys are waiting for you.” I hear a female voice in the background. The hairs on my arm rise up. I know it’s her.
“I’ll be there in a few,” he yells back.
“You’re holding everyone up,” she says.
Go away, ho.
“Are you deaf? I said I’ll be there in a fucking minute.” His voice is nasty, rude even, in a way I’ve never heard before. I would never want that directed at me.
“Is that her?” I ask, hating the jealousy in my voice.
“Yes.”
“Great.”
“I swear on Niko nothing is going on or has gone on. I’ve been in my room alone every night, talking to you, texting you, or thinking about you. I’m not a liar, Evelyn. You may not always like my truth, but you will always get it.”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “I believe you, Storm.” And I do. He’s not perfect. He comes with sharp edges. But one thing I’ve come to realize is that he’s real, raw, and honest. I know when he says something he means it. Period.
“I better go or Vandal will be throwing a fit. He’s been in a shit mood all day saying we’re all off. He and Ash have been at each other’s throats, and I’m sick of playing referee.”
“Oh... I hope things get better.”
“He’ll calm down, eventually. I probably won’t get to talk to you tonight. By the time the show ends and I get back to the hotel, it’ll be after midnight. I don’t like keeping you up every night.”
“Storm, I don’t mind. I love hearing your voice before I go to sleep.”
“Me, too. I’ll see how late it is. Just don’t worry if you don’t hear from me, okay?”
“I promise I won’t freak out.”
“Good. And Evie? I’m really happy about your apartment. I can’t wait to be there with you.”
He hangs up and I hold on to the phone for a few seconds. Every time we part, whether it is in person or on the phone, I feel like a piece of me is pulled away. Like a puzzle missing one piece.
I pull my journal out of my bag and jot a few quick notes in my list.
Pack.
Talk to Michael.
Send Jane a thank you card.
Change my address.
I feel good about my list. I can do these things.
Before pulling away from the curb, I take one more look at the place that will soon be my new home, and I feel at peace.
I’m barely home for five minutes and my cell phone starts ringing with an unknown ringtone and number. I frown at the screen and answer it.
“Hello.”
“Evelyn, it’s Aria Valentine. Have I reached you at a convenient time?”
Aria! Storm’s mother. Eeek!
“Yes... Of course. How are you?”
My mind scrambles. Why is she calling me? Did something happen to Storm? I just spoke to him not thirty minutes ago. Maybe she dug up some dirt on me? But I don’t have any dirt. She hates me. She doesn’t want her favorite son dating a chick who’s already living with someone—
“I’m great, a little crazy busy right now, which is why I’m calling you. I hope you don’t mind that I asked Storm for your number.”
I sit on the loveseat and kick my heels off. “No, of course, that’s fine... anytime. Can I help you with anything?”
“Actually, I think you can, if you’re interested, of course.”
I have no idea where this is going. What could I possibly help Aria Valentine with?
She continues to talk. Her voice is so elegant it just drips class. I love her confidence and self-assuredness.
“I had to fire my personal assistant this morning. I found out she was leaking pieces of my unreleased manuscripts without my knowledge. I’m absolutely devastated, she’s worked for me for five years, and I never thought she would do such a thing. I trusted her with everything. Of course, the poor girl apologized until she was hoarse, but I simply can’t have an assistant who I can’t trust one hundred percent.”
“Oh, Aria, that’s awful. I’m so sorry to hear this. I can understand how disappointed you must be.”
Geez, a person just can’t trust anyone these days.
“Disappointed is an understatement. The reason I’m calling is that I’d like to offer you the job. I know you have a background in marketing and project management. I would need help with organizing my calendar for events, updating my social media and website, making appointments, sending out autographed books and promotional materials, monitoring my email and replying to those I don’t need to personally review, hawking the reviews online and letting me know of anything terribly critical. Doing some research, and I’d ask you to beta read my new manuscripts, make sure everything is running on time, and I don’t miss deadlines... There’s a lot, but it’s nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure. It’s really just about keeping me on track and helping me do the things I can’t get to. Storm said you would be perfect, and I totally trust his judgment. He says your boss is an ass.”
I’m floored. Aria Valentine is asking me to be her personal assistant. Is she crazy? I don’t know anything about assisting a bestselling author.
I try to compose myself. “Aria, I’m flattered... but I really don’t know if I’m the best person for this... I have no experience in this field at all. I would feel absolutely horrible if I let you down.”
“Evelyn, I’m sure you can do this. I can teach you anything you need to know. All of it is mostly just common sense and organization, to be honest. Things I’m just too lazy or busy to do myself. I may be busy, but I’m very easy to work for.”
“Honestly, it sounds amazing, but I just today put a deposit on an apartment. It’s way too far away from where you live. I could never make the drive every morning.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter. This is mostly a virtual position—you can do this all from home. That’s how my last girl did it. We met up maybe once a month in person. Everything else we did over the phone, or email, text message and videoconference. I can send you a bunch of materials to keep at your house.”
Wow. A work at home position? I could sit in my new cute little apartment and work for a famous author. I could wear yoga pants all day! I wouldn’t have to deal with office politics and Jack’s condescending remarks.
“Before you say anything else, the salary is sixty-five thousand and I will pay for private health insurance for you. I also reimburse you for any mileage, phone bills, and any home office equipment you may need.”
Holy moly. That’s more money than I’m making right now. I could actually pay off some of my debts and start to save some money. This would totally change my life.
“And one last thing,” she adds. “This has nothing to do with your relationship with my son. Your job will not hinge on anything to do with him, I promise. I will even put that in an employment contract if it will make you feel better.”
“Aria, that’s not necessary, I trust you. I think I’m in shock right now. This is an incredible offer for me, like a dream come true.” I take a deep breath. So many things are happening at once, I feel a bit overwhelmed. This opportunity sounds way too good for me to pass up.
“Sweetheart, why don’t
you think it over and give me a call tomorrow evening? I know I just threw a lot at you and it’s a lot to process. I don’t expect you to make a decision right now. Please think it over. I would love for you to work for me. I think you would really enjoy it. If you decide it isn’t for you, that’s also fine. I will understand completely.”
“That would actually be great. I apologize, it’s just been a crazy day, and this is really a surprise.”
Her voice is sweet and comforting. “Evelyn, no worries at all. It’s a big decision. If you have any questions, you just let me know. I will really be delighted though if you accept. I have a feeling you could use a change, a new path maybe.”
I laugh softly in agreement. “That’s true, I really could.”
“Well, I won’t keep you. Give me a buzz tomorrow and we’ll talk. Have a good night, sweetie.”
“You, too. And thank you so much for thinking of me.”
I lay back on the loveseat and stare up at the ceiling. So many decisions to be made that it’s making my head hurt. For years, my life has been the same, unchanging—days just passing, one fading into the next with no real difference. All these changes on the horizon are scary. Making decisions is not exactly my strong point and now I have many to be made all at once. I want to go to bed and just hide from all of this.
No. That’s what the old Evelyn would do, and spent years doing. The new Evelyn, the new me, isn’t going to run and hide and let life pass her by anymore. I stand and walk across the room to the mantle, where the snow globe that Storm gave me is perched. I pick it up, shake it gently, and watch the tiny snowflakes swirl. Getting lost that day completely changed my life.
Chapter Eighteen
Two weeks. Fourteen days. A new home. A new job. And Storm.
I can do this.
Giving notice at my job wasn’t easy. I agonized over what to say. I felt guilty for leaving as if my departure would have any impact on the company. I liked to hope that it would, but according to Jack’s last words, I had become completely useless as of late. Ouch.
I arranged for cable TV, Internet, and phone services to be turned on at my new apartment. Jane has been nice enough to let me stop by several times before my official move-in date so I could slowly bring over some of my belongings and stock the refrigerator and cabinets with groceries.
I miss Storm like mad while he’s been touring, but being apart has also brought us closer together. Hours spent on the phone at night and countless text messages have given us the opportunity to talk about everything under the sun. I’m falling in love with him more and more each day, my fears and wariness slowly dissipating. He is patient and understanding. He listens when I need him to and nudges me when I need a bit of a push. We’ve included the bunny on a few of our phone calls, each time a little bit more erotic than the last. The man has a major sensual side that I am slowly growing less afraid of.
Tonight I will tell Michael, the man I’ve spent the last twelve years of my life with that I am no longer in love with him. I have no idea how he’ll react. Will he be mad? Glad? I truly don’t know. He’s become a stranger to me these past few weeks. As I slowly pulled myself away from him, I realized that there wasn’t much to our relationship at all. It was my attention, my conversation, my plans that filled the majority of our relationship. Once I stopped those things, the emptiness between us inflated like a balloon. He still calls me every day, but these calls seem obligatory in nature. A check-in, for lack of a better description.
I debate for days on how best to end things. I consider just leaving him a letter and moving out while he’s out of town. That seems like a douchey maneuver, however, after spending twelve years together. Letting him come home to a letter stating his girlfriend had moved out while he was on a business trip seemed pretty rude, even though it would save me the awkwardness of a face-to-face confrontation.
I don’t deserve the easy way out. I’ve behaved badly, and if he screams and yells, I deserve it. Unplanned or not, the things I’ve done with Storm should have never happened while I was still in a relationship. I have a strong suspicion that Michael has had another girlfriend for quite a while, but I should not have let myself sink to that level. I value commitment, I thrive on it, and I expect it. And I always gave it. Until Storm came along and rocked my world off its axis.
Storm asked me to wait until he is back in town to tell Michael, in case I need him. I don’t feel comfortable with that. Living with Michael for another two weeks, knowing I have a secret apartment set up and a lover coming home to me, would drive the guilt further and further into me. I don’t want any more of it.
Waiting on the couch for Michael, I look around our home and realize it’s devoid of anything ‘us.’ There are no photos of us on the walls. There are no objects that he gave me or I gave him. I’m not sure how I’ve never noticed this before. Or am I just looking for things to be wrong?
I don’t know.
He comes in a little before dinnertime and throws his bags on the floor. He looks a little bit ruffled his short hair messier than usual, his shirt not tucked in.
“Hey.” He says when he sees me
“Hi.”
He goes into the kitchen and comes back out a few seconds later with a beer.
“Michael, I need to talk to you.”
He nods at me but doesn’t look at me. He’s sifting through the mail I had left on the coffee table. “I gotta take a shower. We can talk later if ya want.”
I stand my ground. “No, I’d like to talk now, please.”
He throws the mail back on the table and sits on the arm of the couch, leaning his beer against his leg.
“Fine. What’s up?”
I take a deep breath. My insides are shaking. Once I do this, there’s no turning back. I will never be able to fix this or undo this decision.
“I’m not exactly sure how to even say this, so I’m just going to say it. I’m moving out.”
He blinks at me a few times, and his lip starts to twitch. I’ve seen that twitch a thousand times when he’s annoyed.
“What?”
“I’m moving out. I found an apartment. Things just aren’t good between us, Michael. I’m sorry. I just need to end this.”
A disgusted smile crosses his lips. “You’re leaving me?”
I nod, a little nervous that he seems angrier than I expected him to be. “Yes. We’re not happy together... you’re never home.”
“I’m fucking working, Evelyn.”
“I know... but I’m still alone all the time. I don’t like it.”
He takes a gulp of his beer. “You sound like a fucking baby. I can’t babysit you 24/7.”
I wince at his words. Yes, I have been clingy in the past. But I have been better in the past two years, trying to keep myself occupied with work, and not asking him to do things with me as much as I used to.
“I understand that. And I don’t want you to.”
“What the hell is going on? I come home from working my ass off and sitting on a goddamn plane all day, and I have to come home to this bullshit from you?”
“I’m in love with someone else. And I’m not quite sure of your fidelity either, considering I’ve found a bracelet in our couch.”
He stands up and paces the room. “I told you where that came from. And what do you mean you’re in love with someone else?”
I pull one of the couch pillows onto my lap and rub my hand over it absently. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. Tell me something, Michael. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you’ve been faithful? Can you tell me you’re in love with me?”
His blue eyes hold mine for a long time, at first defiant, and then his gaze drops to the floor. He shakes his head. “No. I can’t.” He looks back up at me. “Not to either. I’m sorry.”
His words hurt deeply, but I can’t say I’m surprised. I sit in silence for a few moments, just letting the truth sink in.
“I do love you, Ev. But things have been difficult. Your depression
and anxiety over every fucking thing... it’s been exhausting for me. I don’t know how to deal with it. After your parents had died, you changed. You stopped smiling. You used to be so much fun, so silly and full of life. I was too young to deal with the responsibility of caring for someone so full of grief. I know that’s not your fault. I’m not an asshole, Ev. You know that. But I didn’t want to be dragged into your hole with you.”
“If I was so horrible, why did you stay all these years?” My voice is louder than I want it to be, but I’m mad he’s thrown my depression into my face. All these years, I thought he was the understanding boyfriend, while inside he was slowly hating me. I feel emotionally betrayed, embarrassed even that I cried in front of him so many times, thinking he understood what I was going through.
“How could I leave? You were a mess. I was afraid another loss would throw you over the fucking edge.”
I lose it right then. My soul just cracks. “So you felt sorry for me all these years? That’s all it’s been for almost twelve years? Pity for the poor depressed girl?”
“I guess in a way, yes, if you want to put it that way. I kept hoping you would snap out of it. Evelyn, think about it, back then, you wouldn’t even let me near you. You froze every time I touched you. You still do.”
My strength is slowly fading, the demons taking over again. Reminding me of who and what I am. Inadequate. Damaged. Emotionally unstable. I have spent years of my life with someone who felt sorry for me. Who was afraid to leave me because they thought I would hurt myself or sink deeper into a hole. I suppose I should feel grateful that he stayed at all, that he cared enough to not put me through that. But I don’t.
He sits on the couch, closer to me but not too close. “Ev, I’m sorry. I thought that by just letting things be for a while would be best for you. I thought it would either get better or I would eventually leave. But one year turned into two, then two into three...”
“Well, I’m sorry we wasted so many fucking years together.”
