My Forever Plus-One

by Shannyn Schroeder

  Back from break, Evelyn watched the scene play out in front of her as Tiffany found out that she’d brought in the wrong man again and still didn’t know who the father of her baby was. The dramatics unfolded on stage, and it had no effect on Evelyn. She just didn’t care.

  Maybe doing a follow-up on the school shooting would be a good thing. At least she’d feel something.

  …

  Owen stirred pasta sauce on the stove as jazz played in the background. His run with Probie had soothed his nagging thoughts from earlier. Evelyn’s cryptic response left him wondering what happened with the nomination. Why would she need to both celebrate and commiserate?

  In preparation, he planned a nice bottle of wine to celebrate and strawberry cheesecake with fresh whipped cream for dessert to commiserate. The spaghetti dinner would work for either a happy occasion or disappointment. As the water boiled, he added the pasta and then cut into the crusty bread to add butter and garlic before toasting it.

  Just as he slid the garlic bread into the oven, Probie started dancing around, so he knew Evelyn was coming up the stairs. Although she had a key, he’d left the door unlocked for her. She pushed it open, which was Probie’s invitation to rush through the house to get to her. The dog was still growing into his huge paws, so as he neared her and attempted to stop, he kind of skidded until he smacked into her legs.

  “Hey, boy,” she said in soothing tones as she bent to pet him. She rubbed her hands all over his sides and played with his ears.

  Owen shook his head. She was going to have dog hair all over her expensive clothes. “Probie. Come on. Let’s go out.”

  At the word “out,” Probie scrambled back to Owen. Evelyn stood.

  “I still think it’s a crime you named that beautiful dog Probie. After a year, it’s no longer probationary.”

  He turned to let the dog out the back door. “I told you when you gave him to me that it was permanent probation.”

  She’d gotten him the dog for his birthday last year, once he’d finished working on his house. She’d said the house needed a dog to make it feel like a home. He was convinced that she wanted a dog but didn’t have the time to care for one. His house was the best of both worlds.

  She followed him into the kitchen. “You’d no more get rid of that dog than you’d get rid of me.”

  He stirred the sauce again. “Probie fits him. He keeps screwing up and has a lot to learn. But no, I won’t be getting rid of him.” Or you.

  She leaned over his shoulder and inhaled. “Mmm…pasta.”

  While she sniffed dinner, the scent of her perfume surrounded him, and her hair tickled his neck. She smelled better than anything he could put on a plate. So much for his head being clear. Nina’s words dogged him.

  Then Evelyn went to the sink and washed her hands, leaving him with nothing but the aroma of oregano and garlic.

  “What can I help with?”

  “Nothing. Pour yourself some wine and tell me what happened with the nomination.”

  She poured a full glass while he maneuvered around the kitchen, draining the pasta and pulling the bread from the oven. Leaning against the table, she watched him prepare their plates.

  “Are you going to keep me in suspense or what?”

  “I got the nomination.”

  He set two full plates on the kitchen table and accepted the glass of wine she handed him. Clinking his glass against hers, he said, “Congrats?”

  She smiled and sipped. “It’s a good thing.”

  “But?”

  “The nomination is for the episode I did on the school shooting last year.”

  “Damn.” What do I say to that? His heart hurt for her. Evelyn’s being upset over the nomination now made sense.

  “Let’s eat. This smells delicious.”

  They sat at the table and started eating.

  “Your boss has to be thrilled with your nomination, right? I mean, it all looks good for them.”

  She lifted a shoulder and spun pasta on her fork. “Of course.”

  “Then why the long face?”

  “Because right after we found out what the nomination was for, I asked Harry about my pitch for the new show, but he deflected. Then he reminded me that it’s almost the anniversary of the shooting. As if I wanted the reminder. He wants me to do a follow-up episode. Go to the school, visit with the kids. See how they’re doing a year later.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah.” She stabbed at her noodles.

  They ate in silence. Owen wished he could say something to cheer her up, but when she’d come up with the idea for that episode, they’d fought a lot. He’d thought it was a bad idea. It was one thing to drag adults and their tragedy in front of an audience, but he firmly believed kids should be off-limits. And when it was over, he couldn’t even say I told you so to her because the whole experience had torn her up.

  After a while, he asked, “You’re not going to do it, are you?”

  She set her fork down and drained her glass of wine. “I don’t have much of a choice.”

  “You always have a choice.” He shoved some more pasta in his mouth, then reminded her, “You were miserable while working on that episode.”

  “I know.”

  “And it’s not fair to the kids. To dredge up all that crap. What if they’ve started to get their lives back? They’re going to remember the anniversary. They don’t need someone shoving a camera in their faces and asking them about their dead friends.” He thought of the few kids at the center who had been directly affected by the shooting. It had had a ripple effect, and all the other kids at the center had come in afraid and worried about when it would happen at their school.

  Not if, but when.

  “How can I say no if that’s what they want? I can’t just walk away from my career. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am.”

  He stood and put his plate in the sink. “You’ve already walked away. Ever since that episode, you’ve done almost nothing but who’s-the-baby’s-daddy shows. You stick to that because it’s easy and predictable. It doesn’t hit you emotionally.”

  “Easy and predictable aren’t bad. Look at you,” she said with a half-assed smile.

  She always did her best to lighten the mood when things got rough, even if she wasn’t feeling it. He didn’t respond. The last thing he needed was Evelyn pointing out how boring he was.

  “I’m kidding. Mostly.” She kicked her smile up a notch.

  Narrowing his eyes, he said, “I’m not always predictable.” Am I?

  “Going after that story was hard. But I ultimately have to do what my boss says.”

  “Your boss is a vulture.” He took her plate and refilled her glass.

  “It’s the nature of the business.”

  “There’s cheesecake in the fridge for dessert.”

  “Now who’s spoiling whom? Cheesecake beats cheeseburgers any day.” Her phone rang. Pulling it out, she said, “It’s Donald. I’ll be right back.”

  “Speaking of vultures,” he said as she pressed the button to accept the call. She shot him a dirty look and walked toward the living room.

  Owen filled the sink to wash dishes. While he couldn’t hear what Evelyn was saying to Donald, her voice changed when she talked to him. It was higher-pitched or too cheerful or something. It grated on his nerves.

  He couldn’t understand why she let the man stay in her life. For as long as he’d known Evelyn, she’d said that Donald hadn’t done anything horrible in their marriage. He hadn’t abused her or cheated on her. Their relationship had simply fizzled out. Owen never bought it. He thought they’d continued to sleep together when Donald was in Chicago. Then, within six months of the divorce, Donald had remarried.

  The one night he and Evelyn had slept together had been on the heels of her getting the news that Donald had proposed to another woman.

  And in the years since, Donald had blown into and out of her life, often after a divorce or breakup. Owen never asked for particulars on th
e nature of their relationship, because he didn’t like Donald. He didn’t like who Evelyn was when Donald was around. While she shared that she’d spent time with her ex, Owen never asked if they’d slept together. He didn’t want to know then, but now he was curious.

  Instead of eavesdropping on her conversation, he turned up the jazz on his radio and washed dishes.

  Chapter Three

  Evelyn sat on the arm of Owen’s couch.

  “I’m so happy for you, Evie. The nomination is well deserved,” Donald said.

  She sighed. It didn’t feel well deserved. Not for that episode. “Did you see the episode?”

  “I saw clips from it. You did a great job.”

  He would think so. It had been his idea. As soon as the news reports had started coming in, Donald had called her at work and told her that if she wanted to take her career to the next level, this was the kind of story she needed to go after.

  She’d listened to him the way she’d always listened to him. He’d been in the industry so many more years than she had. He knew what he was talking about and was rarely wrong. Didn’t the nomination prove that he was right about this, too?

  “Harry wants me to do it again,” she said quietly, not wanting to rehash it with Owen.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s almost the anniversary of the shooting.”

  “Oh, Evie, that’s brilliant.”

  She bit her lip. Donald was right. In her gut, she knew it. But was an award worth the emotional cost?

  “Have you thought about the angle? Have you reached out to the kids and the teachers? I wish I were in Chicago. I’d love to be a part of that. Even to just watch you work. It’ll be amazing, Evie.”

  Donald kept talking as if it were a done deal. Like she shouldn’t even consider not doing it. Then he abruptly switched topics to tell her what was going on in his life.

  She let him ramble on for a few minutes about the news project he was on. It would be a series of nighttime special events. While he droned, she stared at her feet. Kicking off her shoes, she ran her toes along the smooth, glossy hardwood. Between the low rumble of Donald’s voice in her ear and the fact that she was caught up in her own head, she didn’t hear Owen come into the room.

  Suddenly a plate with a huge piece of cheesecake was thrust in front of her. She looked up, following the long, muscled arm with just enough hair to be inviting to touch, all the way to his face. He knew exactly what she needed, when she needed it. What more could she ask for?

  She didn’t want to talk to Donald. He hadn’t been the kind of husband who brought her cheesecake after a rough day. He’d wanted to tell her how to fix it. As if she didn’t have a mind of her own.

  “Hey, Donald? I have to go. Owen just placed a huge piece of cheesecake in front of me, and I can’t be held responsible for the sounds that may come from my mouth momentarily.” She accepted the plate from Owen with a smile.

  Donald chuckled in her ear. “I remember how you are about cheesecake. Let me know if you want to bounce some ideas around for that follow-up.”

  As if she still needed him to guide her career. Years of therapy had taught her that she had been looking for a father figure because she’d had none growing up. She’d met him at work and without a doubt, it would be labeled harassment today, but back then, she’d been drawn to his power. He had taught her so much about being a producer. Which made him a pretty good mentor, but not a good husband. When she’d needed a partner, he’d told her to buck up and do what needed to be done to get where they wanted to go. Nothing was ever just about her.

  “Okay. Thanks.” She disconnected and slid onto the couch, thinking about her relationship with Donald. He was still good for shoptalk, but he had no clue how to make her feel better. Hell, he didn’t even understand that she was upset right now. That much hadn’t changed over the years.

  Owen sat next to her, the warmth of his body radiating across the short distance. This man, however, understood her. While he might not be the best talker, he was an excellent listener.

  “What’s up with Donald?”

  “Why do you say his name like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like someone is stabbing your eyeball with a dull fork.”

  The corners of his mouth turned down. “I don’t like him much.”

  Ha. That’s an understatement. She didn’t understand Owen’s dislike of her ex. They’d met. Donald was always pleasant. Then again, Donald was pleasant with everyone. He viewed every introduction as the beginning of a possible future interaction.

  She pointed at her cheesecake. “You’re not having any?”

  “I’m waiting for you to share.”

  “Why would I do that? You have a whole cake in there.”

  “But I don’t want a whole piece. Just give me a bite.”

  She sighed, forked a piece, and held it out to him. He leaned forward and ate it. “Mmm… That is good.”

  “I gave you a bite. That’s all you get.” She shifted to move the plate out of his reach. The man had fast hands. “Anyway, to answer your question, Donald was calling to congratulate me.” After another bite, she said, “He thinks I should do the follow-up on the shooting.”

  “Vulture,” Owen mumbled as he pressed the button to turn on the TV.

  “Can we not talk about it anymore? It’s going to ruin this delicious dessert.”

  “One more thing and then I’ll hand you the remote and you can pick whatever you want to watch.” He twisted to look directly in her eyes.

  Seemed like a fair trade-off, so she nodded.

  “Don’t do anything because someone else says you should. Do what’s right for you—what will make you feel good.”

  That one statement summed up why she loved him and why he had been so good for her since her divorce. The sincerity on his face caused a lump to form in her throat. Owen didn’t manipulate. He wanted what was best for her. She nodded.

  With their gazes locked, she caught onto the idea of feeling good. She fell into the warmth of his brown eyes. Her pulse ticked up like it had in her kitchen the night of Tess’s engagement party. Stop it. This is Owen. She blinked, and the charged moment passed…again.

  He handed her the remote, and while she flipped it over to choose a show, Owen reached around and snagged her plate. Before she could blink, he popped the last piece of cheesecake into his mouth.

  “That wasn’t fair.”

  He answered with a grin before setting the empty plate on the table.

  Her complaint was half-hearted. She’d give Owen anything he asked for. She settled next to him, and his arm came around her shoulders like it always did. When did snuggling with him become the norm? She couldn’t remember, because it all felt so easy and natural.

  “You’ll pay for that,” she said, and scrolled through the channels until she could find the silliest, sappiest romantic comedy possible.

  The thing was, he didn’t care. He let her lean on him and pretend life was light and happy. And for that, she loved him.

  …

  Owen was exhausted walking away from the firehouse to go home. His phone had been buzzing repeatedly, so he finally checked it. He’d missed a few calls and texts from Evelyn.

  He’d forgotten to tell her that he was working overtime, but they hadn’t had plans. He’d worked an extra half shift to cover for Joe, whose kid had some school performance. He hadn’t counted on the last call being so bad. But it could’ve gone much worse. Pushing away the thoughts of how bad it could’ve been, he called Evelyn back.

  She answered on the first ring. “Hey.”

  “Hey. I’m fine. I worked overtime for Joe.”

  The breath of her sigh was loud enough that he could imagine it brushing his cheek.

  “What’s up?” he asked. She rarely checked in on him while he was on duty. They texted during shift to chat, make plans for dinner, or talk about friends. She didn’t ask about his calls. But when he had a hard day, like today, she always li
stened.

  “Nothing. I just thought it was weird that I hadn’t heard from you. You usually call or text when you get off shift to let me know you’re okay.”

  “The last call was rough. Took a long time.”

  “But you’re okay?”

  “Yeah,” he lied. Physically, he was fine. Emotionally, he needed distance to get a grip.

  “Come over.”

  “I’m exhausted. I’ll probably just crawl into bed. And I have to check on Probie.” He had a neighbor who walked his dog when he was on shift, but Probie would be missing him by now.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He disconnected and waved as he walked through the firehouse. Outside the sun was low in the sky. He closed his eyes and stood for a minute, taking a long breath.

  It was late. It always threw him off getting out any time other than first thing in the morning. He liked the routine. But when a buddy needed you to cover, you did. It was how a team worked.

  He hadn’t eaten in hours. His stomach had to be empty, but he didn’t feel particularly hungry. He could make himself a sandwich before he went to bed. A cold beer sounded really good. Too bad he couldn’t remember if he had any in the fridge. He’d been spending time at Evelyn’s, so he wasn’t sure if he’d finished what he’d had. Ever since she’d gotten the nomination a few weeks ago, she’d been working exceptionally long days trying to figure out what to do about the follow-up episode to the school shooting. They hadn’t had a lot of time together, but it was enough that he hadn’t paid attention to what was in his own fridge.

  He didn’t have the energy to stop at a store. If he was out of beer, he’d go without. At his car, he rolled down the windows and blasted the air-conditioning to flush out the stagnant heat. He waited outside the car while it cooled. Leaning against the back door, he looked up at the late-evening sun.

  He closed his eyes against the glare. Images flashed in his mind of Jamal hanging on to the edge of the car leaning over the highway. He took a few deep breaths to erase the haunting pictures. Nothing would truly wipe them out, but he recounted every step they’d taken to save the victims of the car accident. Retraced his movements to verify that he’d done everything possible to keep his crew safe.