I press my forehead to hers, my eyes closed, and I just breathe her in.
“You won’t lose me,” she says softly, her hands resting against my arms. “I’m in love with you, too, Adam. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Then, she kisses me.
And nothing has ever felt so good in my whole life as hearing Evie tell me that she loves me.
In this moment, I know that I’ll never recover from her, and I don’t ever want to.
This is it for me. She is it.
“You don’t have class today?” I ask Casey, not taking my eyes off the TV screen where Aria and Ezra are totally heating it up.
It’s my day off, and I’m spending it watching Pretty Little Liars.
I know my life is lame. People usually spend their days off with their friends or boyfriend, not in front of the TV with no other plans than that.
But I don’t have any friends here, except for Angie. And she’s not a close friend, just a work friend. As for a boyfriend—ha!
I’m currently in the middle of getting a divorce from the only man I ever loved…still love. But let’s not get into that right now.
Back to Ezra…
“Yeah, I’m heading out in a few.” Casey sits on the edge of the sofa, totally blocking my view of the TV.
Sighing, I look around her. Holding up the remote, I pause it.
“Where’s Dad?” she asks me.
“The library.”
“Again? Good to know he’s getting use out of the Kindle we got him for his birthday.”
“Ah, cut him some slack. It’s good for him to get out and about. Anyway, I think he has the hots for the librarian.”
“Really?” She lifts an eyebrow.
“Yep. She’s pretty, too. I saw her when I went with him the other day.”
Dad hasn’t shown interest in anyone since Mom died. It’s nice to see him recognizing that the opposite sex does exist again. Maybe I should take a page out of his book.
I reach down and grab my water. After taking a drink, I put it back down.
As I shift back to my spot, I see Casey staring at me. “What?” I say.
“Are you…okay? You just haven’t seemed like yourself lately.”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s only ten a.m., and you’ve already polished off a tub of Chunky Monkey.” She taps the empty carton with her foot.
“I was hungry.”
“And the Cheetos?” She indicates the super-size bag on the coffee table, sitting there waiting for me.
“Brunch.” I grin at her.
“So, you don’t plan on moving at all today?”
“Nope. Now, if you don’t mind”—I nudge her with my leg—“I have some TV to watch, and you have class to get to.”
She doesn’t budge. She’s still staring at me. I know my sister. I know she’s considering saying something to me.
“Come on, Case, just spit it out. If you want to say something to me, let’s get it over with, so I can get back to watching my show.”
She tilts her head to the side, her blonde bangs spilling into her gray eyes. She has Mom’s eyes. Sometimes, she reminds me of Mom so much that it hurts.
But it would hurt an awful lot more not to have Casey here.
If only I could have Mom here, too.
And Adam.
Then, life would be totally perfect.
But perfect and me don’t go together.
“I heard you telling Dad that not long after we moved here, you saw Adam.”
Every muscle in my body tenses.
Casey knows Adam and I were married, and then we weren’t. And that’s all she knows, all she needs to know.
“And?” I can’t help the frown that pulls on my face.
“Well, I’d say that’s a pretty big deal, seeing the man you loved, the guy you married and then left a week later, after all this time. It had to have been at least a little weird.”
“Not really.”
“No? It would have been for me.”
“It’s not a big deal because it’s ancient history.” It’s such a big deal that I could cry right now from just talking about it.
“History can be painful to relive. I know something went down with him, and you’ve never really gotten over it—even though you’d never tell me,” she says pointedly.
“There’s nothing to tell. We were married, and then we weren’t. And I got over it.” I sigh, looking at the wall.
Lying to Casey sucks. I’ve always hated doing it.
But sometimes, you have to protect people from the truth they don’t need to know.
My life is one big, fat lie.
Since the moment I told that first lie ten years ago, I’ve done nothing but lie since. It gets pretty tiring sometimes.
“Sure you got over it,” she scoffs, folding her arms. “So, when was the last time you had a boyfriend again, Evie?”
“Um…”
“Exactly.” She laughs. “Last time you went on a date?”
“Jesus, I don’t know!” I throw my hands up.
“It was five years ago, and it’s the only date I can remember you going on. You only went because it was a double date with Terri, that girl you worked with at the coffee house, and she’d set you up without you knowing. The last boyfriend you had was your husband.”
“He’s not my husband.” Okay, that’s not exactly true. But I’m not telling her that.
Dad knows, but Casey doesn’t need to. I told him after Adam came to see me. I needed someone to talk to. And Dad knows all the sordid history. I know I can trust him, and I can tell him anything without any judgment.
But if I tell Casey, then I’ll have to explain a whole lot of other things that I can’t explain, things she doesn’t need to know.
“Ex-husband. Whatever. But it must have been hard to see him. I might have been young and still sick at the time, but I remember, Evie. I remember how bad it was for you after we left Malibu and moved to San Fran. You were like a ghost for that first year.”
I really don’t want to talk about this.
“Seeing him wasn’t hard, Case. A little weird, yes. Hard, no.” The only thing harder was leaving him in the first place. “Can we stop talking about this now?” I can feel myself starting to crack.
“Why? Because he was the love of your life?”
“No, because I want to watch my show. And he was not the love of my life, FYI.” God, I sound like a teenager.
“Sure. So, you just married some guy you kind of liked when you were eighteen years old?”
“Puppy love. You’ve heard of that. Marrying Adam was a mistake, and I got over it.”
“You’re such a bullshitter. You never got over him.”
“Oh my God!” I blow up. “Yes, I did!”
Sometimes, I feel like I’ve been more of a mother to Casey over the years than a sister. But it’s at times like this when I’m reminded that I’m definitely her sister.
“You keep telling yourself that. But you’ve been acting weird since you saw him, and now, you’re spending your days off on the sofa with Chunky Monkey for company, which is on your face, by the way.”
I touch a hand to my face, and yep, there it is. Ice cream smeared on my cheek. Classy. Lifting my T-shirt—which is actually Adam’s old Rolling Stones T-shirt that I had claimed as mine when we first started dating—I wipe the ice cream from my face.