Chapter Eleven
Evening of Olivia’s Bachelorette Party
“Well, I hope you’re satisfied,” I grunted, carrying most of Olivia’s weight, her arm wrapped around my shoulder, unable to walk on her own. I’d worn a short, black, cocktail dress, and impossibly high heels, per Olivia’s dress code for her bachelorette party. Of course, I’d complied; I didn’t want to be the only woman at the party who stood out like a sore thumb. However, now that I was practically carrying Olivia and contemplating trying to launch her onto my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the outfit choice was looking like a poor one.
“I am very satizzfied,” she replied, her speech slurred and sloppy. “Between the pregnancy and having a small baby at home, I haven’t been able to get drunk in a very long time, Evelyn.” She said my name like I’d done something wrong, like somehow her getting pregnant was my fault.
“Well, I’m glad you were able to have fun,” I said in response, not really sure what I was supposed to say. As far as Olivia’s new life went, I understood it was a very sharp contrast to her old life – new baby, new fiancé – but in general, I found it hard to feel sorry for her. I was unable to deliver the sympathy she longed for from me. Sure, I put on a guise of feeling sorry for her because otherwise, it would cause a ripple in our relationship, but her life was a product of her choices and behavior. In addition, Devon had proposed to her, wanting to give her and their daughter a normal, family life. Well, I could find nothing terrible about that. So, my sympathy was reserved for people who actually needed it.
I made it to the door of the apartment she shared with Devon. They were planning to buy a house soon, but for now, the two of them lived in the same one bedroom apartment Olivia had moved into last summer, only now they had a baby. Little Ruby. The sweetest, tiniest, and loveliest little baby girl I’d ever known. She was perfect. And I never thought of Olivia as particularly maternal, but watching her with her baby made even my ovaries squirm a little. Olivia was a natural mother and Devon was a nervous, but doting father. I could tell he wanted to do everything he could, be a good father and also a good provider, but it was sweet to see him hold his daughter with a little bit of fear in him, not wanting to hurt her.
Not surprisingly, I could also tell there was strain on their relationship. It was only natural to expect some issues when you got pregnant one year into your relationship, only being twenty-ish. They became engaged during her pregnancy for two reasons: because they loved each other, but more so, because they both felt like it was expected of them. I didn’t feel like they should be getting married, didn’t feel like it was a good idea to enter into marriage simply because of the baby. However, I never found the nerve to express that to Olivia. I knew, on some level, if I told Olivia I thought the timing of her marriage was a mistake, it would be the beginning of the end of our friendship. I knew she’d see past my reasoning, even though it was sound, and pick out the bigger reason I might object; because of Devon. Because even watching him promise to be with her forever, even after watching him hold their baby, tears in his eyes, smiling at his fiancée – my best friend – there was still no absence of my feelings for him. Even though I loved my boyfriend. Even though…
I leaned Olivia against the wall next to her door, took her purse from her shoulder, and found her keys. I opened her door and was not surprised to find it dark and empty inside. Devon was out for his bachelor party and the baby was with his parents. I knew the boys would be bringing him home eventually, but I wasn’t surprised we’d beat them. I took her by the arm and led her into the apartment, heading straight for the bedroom.
She flopped down on the bed, lying straight back, arms flailed out to the sides.
“That was an epic night,” she said, not really sounding like she was speaking to me directly, but throwing it out into the universe.
“I’m glad you had a good time,” I said sincerely. I might not agree with her marriage, but she was still my best friend and I still wanted her to be happy. “I don’t think you’ll think it was so epic come tomorrow morning.”
“I never get hangovers,” she slurred.
“That’s a lie. Plus, it’s been over a year since you’ve been drunk. Maybe all the baby hormones have made you more susceptible to hangovers,” I said without much thought as I tried to undo the buckles on her high heels.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Her tone was less playful, serious even.
I let my hands fall away from her feet. “Excuse me?” I whispered quietly, more than a little surprised by her comment.
“You’d love it if I woke up miserable. Face it, Evie, you want everything I have and the idea of me waking up with a hangover would put a smile on your face.” She sat up a little, surprising me with a smile on her face. “You’d think it served me right to wake up miserable.”
In the two years since I’d met Devon, since he'd started dating her and they’d been together, never had Olivia and I discussed the tension that existed between us all. I was at a loss for what to say in response to her. I never imagined she would call me out, confront me about it.
“Liv,” I said softly, not wanting to hurt her or do irrevocable damage to our friendship.
“It’s okay, Evie,” she said as she flopped back down on the bed. “I don’t blame you. Devon is the best and he wants to marry me. I’d be jealous if I were you too. I had his baby, so now I have a claim on him forever. No one else will ever be the mother of his first baby. I gave him something sacred.”
I tried not to focus on the fact that her statement made it sound like she expected Devon to have another baby momma at some point, as if she was admitting her relationship was temporary. I knew Devon didn’t think of it as such, but was surprised to hear it from Olivia.
“You’re drunk, Olivia.” That was the only thing I could think to say to her. I couldn’t deny what she was saying – I was jealous. But not in a hateful way, not in a way that made me angry with her. I was happy for her and Devon. Them having a baby and getting married changed nothing about our predicament. Devon had been, from the start, out of my reach. Not within my grasp. The minute he linked himself to Liv, it was over for us, and it had never really began. I’d made peace with that long ago, but it never made the connection go away, the awareness that I loved him in a way I hadn’t ever loved anyone. Loved him enough to let him be with her, to step back and watch him be happy with someone else – with my best friend.
“I’m really drunk,” she said with a giggle, which morphed into a huge belly laugh. She laughed for five minutes, making it nearly impossible to get her shoes off. When her laughter tapered off, I guided her into the bathroom.
“Here’s a nightgown,” I said, placing it on the counter. “Go to the bathroom and change. I’ll get some Advil and water for you.”
“You’re the best,” she said, with words I barely understood because they were so mushed together, and all tension from our earlier conversation dissolved away.
“I’m glad you think so, Liv. You’re pretty awesome yourself.” I shut the door as she ambled toward the toilet, glad to be done with the nerve-wracking conversation she’d started. I sat on her bed, dropped my head into my hands, and took in a deep breath. As her maid of honor, my responsibility included making sure she was safe and taken care of, which meant getting her home. Therefore, I’d consumed far less alcohol than she had. And in that moment, I was regretting that fact immensely. I scrubbed my hands down my face, breathing out a large sigh. After a quiet moment, I heard more giggles coming from the bathroom and let my lips form the smile that came naturally. Despite what drunk Olivia thought, I would never want her to be uncomfortable just to make myself feel better. I loved her. I treasured our friendship. It was a little more complicated than I ever would have imagined, but only for me. I’d never make my feelings for her fiancé affect anything. Ever.
I walked out to her kitchen, finding the drawer I knew they kept their medicine in, and opened the Advil. As I was filling a glass from the faucet, I heard the front door open and then watched as Elliot and Devon came inside. Only, in exact opposition to me helping Olivia home, Elliot had his drunken arm draped over Devon’s shoulders.
“Evie!” Elliot yelled, removing his arm from around Devon, and nearly falling forward to get to me. I put the glass down before he made contact, but was promptly wrapped up in his arms, being held close to him, smelling the alcohol wafting off his skin. His hands wandered, smoothing down my back to cup my ass, at which point I felt his scruffy face against the skin of my neck. “Damn, Evie. You’re hot.” He continued to paw at me, but I managed to push him far enough away so that his hands were only able to reach my shoulders.
“Babe, you’re drunk,” I said with a laugh. “This was Devon’s night. You were supposed to let him get hammered. Some best man you are.”
His eyes narrowed a little. “Devon doesn’t mind.”
My eyes found Devon standing by the dining room table, hands in his pockets, just watching us. His eyes were on Elliot and he didn’t look completely happy with the situation.
“Olivia is in the bathroom. She’s pretty wasted too. I was going to bring her some water and Advil.” My eyes darted to the cup and pills on the counter.
He nodded, took the pills and water, and then walked toward the bedroom.
I moved my hands from Elliot’s shoulders up to cup his cheeks. His eyes were glassy, hooded by his eyelids that looked like they weighed a million pounds. “Are you ready to go home?”
“Unless you had other plans,” he replied, his tone not particularly friendly.
I tilted my head to the side, unsure of where he was trying to take the conversation. “I’ve got no plans. I’m here. You’re here. I’m sober. Let’s get you home.”
“If we lived together, you’d only have to go to one place,” he slurred, turning from me once the words had left his mouth. I felt the verbal punch to my gut, but tried not to react immediately. He was drunk, after all.
“Well, I was planning on staying with you, so I’d only have one stop anyway. Unless you had other plans…” I couldn’t hold back the snark as I threw his own words back at him.
“Why are you always pushing me away when he’s around?”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “I push you away when you’re being inappropriate.”
“I’m not allowed to touch you? You’re my girlfriend. For two years.”
“Being my boyfriend doesn’t give you the right to put your hands on me whenever you’d like. Come on,” I said, my voice becoming a little softer. “Let’s just get you home.”
His hands reached out for me again, but this time they ended up on my hips so I didn’t move them. I just looked him in the eye. “Will you still stay with me? I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He sounded sincerely sorry, and I knew he’d probably pass out in the car on the way to his apartment anyway. “Yeah, I’ll stay. Come on, let’s go.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. I stopped at the door and called out softly, “Bye guys, we’re headed home.” I didn’t get a response, but figured Devon had his hands full with Liv.
We made it all the way to my car before I realized I’d left my purse behind. I leaned him up against my car. “I’ll be right back, I left the keys inside.” He grumbled but didn’t argue, so I ran back to the apartment as fast as I could in my stupid heels.
I inched the door open, not wanting to alarm anyone, and saw my purse on the dining table. I tried to tiptoe through the apartment, but nearly screamed when Devon walked out of his bedroom, startling me. I jumped, but managed to keep quiet. When my brain registered that Devon was only wearing a pair of cotton lounge pants, I kept my hand over my mouth, but for an entirely different reason. I was no longer trying to stifle a scream, I was attempting to hide that my mouth was gaping open at the sight of his naked, chiseled, glorious chest. I’d seen it before – the first time we’d met, for one – but usually there were other people around. We were at the lake, for example, and everyone was showing skin. But I had never seen Devon in an intimate way, never seen him only visible by the dim light coming from the bathroom, wearing the very thing I imagined he would go to bed in, looking at me like if I didn’t leave, didn’t get out of his reach, he might devour me.
I slipped past him, grabbed my purse, and left without a word. Lord knew, if either one of us spoke right then, our worlds might come crumbling down.
When I’d gotten Elliot safely into his apartment, I finally reached down to take off my godforsaken heels. He wandered drunkenly through his apartment and into the bedroom. I sighed, still reeling from the tense interaction I’d had with Devon, wanting desperately to just fall asleep and start a new day with a clean slate. Suddenly, I heard Elliot’s voice, deep, gravelly, and drunk, ring out through his apartment.
“You’d tell me if you’d fallen out of love with me, right?”
My heart lurched at his question, ached inside my chest. He was drunk, but I knew he was asking me a serious question. The truth was I wasn’t in love with Elliot. I loved him, in the way one would love a wonderful guy after dating him for two years. But I’d never been in love with him. I didn’t know if it was something I was capable of with Elliot. I loved him. I cared about him. I didn’t regret being with him.
I walked back to his bedroom and saw him lying on his back on the bed, much like Olivia had been – arms sprawled out, eyes glued to the ceiling. I crawled onto his bed, my dress inching up my thighs as I made my way to him, and found my usual spot, my cheek on his chest, his arm coming to naturally curl around me, holding me close.
“Nothing’s changed,” I whispered, pressing my face in closer to him, unable to say the words with any kind of conviction. I couldn’t shout them, couldn’t plead with him to believe me; all I could do was whisper my half-truth to him. When he rolled toward me, his hand finding the side of my face, eyes level with mine, all I could do was lean forward and press my mouth to his to stop any words he had for me. He didn’t push me away, didn’t try to say anything more to me. And even though he was drunk, and we’d had a tumultuous past hour, I let him make love to me – it was the least I could do.