The Absence of Olivia(57)

“So that’s it?” he asked, pain and anger prevalent in his words, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Yeah,” I said through more tears, “I guess it is.”

“Two and a half years together and you’re going to end it because you had a breakdown?”

“This isn’t just a breakdown. This has been eating away at me for months. I can’t do it anymore.”

“I knew you had some weird thing going on with him, Evie. I could tell by the way you two would look at each other, or go to great lengths to never be alone together; it wasn’t a particularly well-kept secret. But I never thought you’d be stupid enough to risk everything for him. On his wedding day, even.” He shook his head and backed away from me.

“Elliot, please, if nothing else you have to understand that this has nothing to do with him. I’ve always been faithful to you. Nothing has ever happened between Devon and I. I promise. Please, just understand that I can’t marry someone I’m not in love with.” I took in a deep breath, trying to push past the sobs that were threatening again. “You’re a fantastic man. You need to find someone who will love you better than I can, someone who gives you every part of them.”

“I gave you everything,” he whispered sadly.

“And I don’t deserve it.”





Chapter Seventeen


Present Day

The next day, Monday, I didn’t go to Devon’s house. I was up hours earlier than normal, pacing back and forth in my room, trying to decide what to do. I worked myself up so much I made myself sick. I didn’t want to see Devon, didn’t want to face his devastation again, but I felt terrible for essentially leaving him in a bind. Then, the other side of my brain would tell me that, surely, he wasn’t expecting me, and he’d figure it out on his own. Then, the tiniest part of my brain, the evil part, would whisper that it was about time he was the one to get his kids ready for school and out the door without my assistance.

Finally, twenty minutes before I would have usually left and headed to his house, I forced myself to take three shots of tequila, purposefully taking away my ability to drive. I took the shots, turned off my phone just in case he tried to call – which I knew he wouldn’t – and crawled back into bed. The tequila took me away in less than twenty minutes, and I spent the rest of the day in bed.

The next morning didn’t go much differently. I worried myself into a fit about whether to go or stay, but finally convinced myself to go to work instead and catch up on what I’d put off Sunday and Monday. Once at my studio, I relaxed a little, but every time my phone rang I expected it to be Devon. But he never called. That fact both relieved and worried me.

Wednesday and Thursday, the same thing happened. I made myself go directly to the studio, never hearing from Devon. But on Thursday, I did hear from Nate. Honestly, I’d been too preoccupied with everything, and too unsure about men in general, to contact him. My mind would drift from the life-altering kiss with Nate under the waterfall back to the even more shattering kiss I shared with Devon, and all those thoughts would always be followed with shame. I shouldn’t have been kissing anyone.

My phone buzzed in my desk drawer. I’d tossed it in there hoping it would keep me from checking it every three minutes to see if Devon had reached out to me. I opened the drawer and saw a text from Nate.

**Hey.**

That titillating text was quickly followed up by –

**Did you like that first message? It took me three days to decide on it. Didn’t want to seem too eager. How’d I do?**

I couldn’t help it; I giggled. Then I frowned. God, I was f*cked up. I couldn’t even let myself laugh. I stared at my phone for a few minutes, trying to figure out what the hell my next step should be. Eventually, I decided to approach the situation like you would a Band-Aid. I was gonna go the quick and direct route.

**I can tell you put a lot of thought into it. Listen, I had a really great time with you the other day, but I think it’s best if we not see each other again. I’m not really as available as I thought I was. I’m sorry.**

I sent the message and held my breath. I didn’t know what I was expecting. He could respond a million different ways. He could be angry, hurt, indifferent, offended. His response, however, wasn’t anything I could have anticipated.

**You can tell yourself whatever you want, Lyn, but you were fully available to me on Sunday. I think your brain is talking you out of it now. See me again and let me remind you how good we are together.**

My jaw dropped after I finished reading his text and, even though it totally added an unwanted layer to my confusion, my heart sped up at his words, too. Before I could even fathom a response, another text came through.

**Just meet me for dinner. In public. Nothing physical can happen in the middle of a restaurant. I’ll behave. I just want to see you. Even if it’s just for you to tell me we can’t see each other again.**

I knew, deep down, I didn’t owe him anything. One date didn’t obligate me to any further contact with Nate. But then I thought about the way his hands felt running up and down my back, how his lips pressed so softly and familiarly into mine, and I gave in. In truth, I wanted to see him one last time too – even if it was only to say goodbye. I typed my response.

**When?**

**Tonight. 6pm. At Xavier’s.**