Now

Carys

GREG GLANCES DOWN TO where Evan’s still holding my hands. Shit. I hastily pull away, walk toward him, and peck him on the cheek.

“Hey, you made it. I thought you weren’t going to be able to come.”

“Yeah, I got through what I needed to. Of course, there’s always work to do, but I wanted to see you and wish your mom happy birthday.”

He drags me to his side and his arm fits snugly around my waist. Greg isn’t into public displays of affection, but like Max, he, too, has picked up on Evan’s silent signals. Without even knowing who Evan is, he’s sensing a threat.

“I’m Evan Hart.” He extends his hand to Greg, but again, his eyes are on me.

Evan’s eyes say everything he can’t with words. He’s not backing down, and Greg isn’t a threat.

“E-Evan.” Greg stumbles over his name. “The Evan?”

Greg swallows uncomfortably, pulling his hand out of Evan’s grip.

“Sounds like you’ve heard of me.”

Nodding, Greg says, “When did you get back?”

“Oh, a few weeks ago now. Has it already been that long, Sweetness?” He deliberately insinuates that I’ve been aware and likely spent time with him, and using his pet name is the icing on the cake.

Folding his arms and widening his stance, his presence grows, engulfs all three of us, if that’s even possible. The room feels small and claustrophobic. I wish the ground would open and swallow me whole.

The men stand side by side. Where Greg is lanky and lean with a runner’s body, Evan is tall, rugged, and muscular. I can’t look at them together for much longer without giving in to the overwhelming nausea. Stepping out of Greg’s grasp, I take his hand.

“Greg, let’s go say hello to everyone. Ma will be glad to see you.”

Greg ignores me. “Where were you?”

Raising his eyebrows, Evan’s lips quirk, like he’s enjoying this. “Around.”

“Bye, Evan.” I raise my hand with my book inside the bag, giving him a small smile. I don’t want to bring attention to it, but want him to know that I love it.

Without so much as a backward glance, we leave Evan, spending the rest of the night avoiding him. Yet no matter where he is, he’s with me. He follows me with the heat of his stare burning me, branding me, making me antsy, achy, and aggravated.

As the crowd dwindles, Ry tells us to leave. We have an ongoing agreement. I plan and kick off the party, and he takes care of clean-up. Once we’ve said our goodbyes, we go to my place in silence, no touching, no talking, but lots of tension.

With the door barely closed, he questions me. “He’s been back for weeks?”

“Yes.”

“Where has he been all this time?”

“I’m sorry, I should have said something. We just never talked about Evan, so I didn’t know how to do that.”

“Yes, I know, Carys. I tried, remember? And every time you shut me down.”

“I know you tried, but I didn’t want to talk about him — still don’t. There’s nothing to say.”

“I don’t see it that way. This guy was the love of your life and he broke your heart. Now I’m the guy in your life, and I get to ask a few questions.”

“Look, when he came back, I didn’t want to have to rehash all that,” I admit, moving to sit on the couch.

“Well, I’m sorry you didn’t want to rehash it, but we’ve never even talked it out. I’m having a hard time with this. Can we please talk about it? What does him coming back mean for you?” he pushes.

“Nothing. It means nothing. We’re over,” I yell, my ire petering out as my angry tone registers with me. I’m confused and frustrated. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what it means.”

“What does that mean?”

I take a breath and gather the little patience I have left. Having Evan stalking me all night has put me on edge. Greg has a right to want answers. I know this deep down inside, I just don’t know what to say.

“I mean, I don’t know if he’s here to stay, if I’m going to have to see him every day or not…” Again, losing the will to talk about it, I trail off.

“And how do you feel about that? If you have to see him every day?”

“How do you think I feel? You know enough about this to know that we didn’t end. There was no nasty breakup, and to now have him back after he told me that he never would come back has me in a tailspin. I’m sorry if I don’t have the answers you want or need right now.”

Coming to sit beside me, he takes my hand. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to push you, babe. I didn’t see this coming. I feel blindsided.”

“That was never my intention. I was trying to find the right way to tell you. I knew you’d have questions. I just don’t have the answers, so, stupidly, I said nothing.”

Having him sit so close doesn’t feel right. Putting Evan aside, I need to break things off once and for all. It’s just going to get messy and ugly with Evan back. Why didn’t I make the move sooner? Because I was comfortable, and that right there sounds wrong and horrible.

I hadn’t figured it out, I was just coasting. Since Evan Hart walked out of my life, I haven’t been living. I’ve just been existing. I’ve been getting my moments of happiness from my family and friends and all the great things happening in their lives.

In terms of myself, other than the bar and what I’ve accomplished there, the rest of my life has been on pause, and I guess Evan’s return has forced me to face the sad truth: I didn’t want or try to do anything to move on.

“Greg, we need to talk, but not tonight. I need to gather my thoughts. Can we just pause this for now?”

“Do you hear yourself? This is our relationship. You want to pause it?”

“Greg…”

“Does he want you back?” He asks the one question I’d hoped he wouldn’t.

“Greg, I don’t…”

“Don’t answer, I already know. Of course he wants you back. I saw it tonight.” His tone is flat. Running his hand through his hair, he sighs. “Carys, I love you. I understand you’re confused. I’ll give you as much time as you need to put this Evan thing to bed, in the past, where it belongs, so we can move on.”

This is where I should say something, tell him how I feel and put an end to this. Instead, I walk away, but upon reaching my room, my cowardice sickens me and prompts me to face him head on.

I boldly turn around to seek him out, only to discover that he’s gone. It was barely a minute and he slipped out, leaving a note on the kitchen table saying he went back to work.

It’s no surprise he went back to work, but what is odd is that he didn’t say goodbye. Despite this, relief rushes through me, drowning out the grimy sensation of my faintheartedness. I’ve dodged the bullet—for now.