Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (6 page)

I wanted to hide.

I accepted the phone was gone. The
sentimental attachment was hardly worth the fuss I was making.

“Stupid plastic,” I murmured, gazing at the
bags under my eyes in the mirror. “It’s just a piece of
plastic.”

Tears trailed the mascara down my cheeks and
I gave up applying make-up. My hair was full of static, too, so I
threw on a baseball cap. Maria would arrive soon and I wanted to be
gone before then. I walked out to the kitchen, where Lily was
sitting with the boys, having breakfast. My stomach growled but I
had no use for food.

I turned on the small TV on the kitchen
island and put in a movie for Caleb. Noah didn’t complain when I
kissed him which meant he was still worried, which made me worry,
so I taped on a smile and made an effort to sit down and eat so he
could see that I was really and truly going to be fine. I even made
a little conversation, mostly shallow observations about the
appropriately gray weather and my hair.

Lily barely spoke, wrapped in her own
thoughts about the bleak anniversary.

When I heard the car out front, I grabbed my
purse and made for the garage door. Turning to give a last goodbye,
Noah shot me a half-smile as if to say, “Some things never change.”
Avoiding Maria was normal and he took comfort in that.

My feet hurt. I had seen every exhibit in
the Science Museum dozens of times. There were several pictures of
us in this place in the phone. Maybe that was what drew me there
that day.

I chose a seat at a small table in the back
of a café I visited each time I came. My stomach was growling. I
set my purse on the other side of the table to fill the empty space
and asked the punctual waitress for water.

I forgot my book of crosswords and had
nothing to kill the time with. Adjusting myself in the hard metal
chair, I felt the pinch of my bank card cutting into my thigh.
While moving it to its’ proper place, inspiration struck. There
were dozens of receipts to account for tucked in my wallet, and
with any luck I could fill the next hour calculating.

The receipts were organized by date, stacked
on my right. I double checked that all of them had been added to my
checkbook, and then took out my pocket calculator. Slumped over my
work, deep into computations, I heard the sound of footsteps and
cautiously covered my balance sheet.

A dark chuckle sounded directly behind
me.

“Cheese and crackers!” My hands clutched at
my heart as I turned.

It was him. Tall, slightly leaning,
unintentionally handsome and looking right at me. “Hello, Gracie,”
he greeted me. The alluring accent lingered with his smile,
enjoying my three-alarm surprise to his stealthy approach.

“
You scared the crap out of
me!”

“Sorry, but I wasn’t sneaking up on
you.”

“It’s alright, uh…”

“Evan,” he reminded me, grinning.

“Evan,” I nodded, “that’s right.”

“It is nice to see you again, Gracie.” He
took my hand between his, patting twice before he let go.

“How have you been?”

“I shouldn’t complain. And yourself?” He
stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and cocked his head
to one side.

I couldn’t honestly say I was fine, and just
forced an awkward smile.

“I’m glad to run into you. May I?” He
gestured to the empty chair.

“
Please,” I scooped the pile of
receipts into my purse. The mess would give me something to do
later.

“
Am I interrupting?” he hesitated,
smoothing his hair between his fingers and hiding it beneath the
hood of his sweatshirt.

“I was trying to keep busy. I hate sitting
alone. It feels like everyone is staring.”

His eyes scanned the area. “No one’s looking
now.”

“
Now that I have someone to talk to,”
my voice cracked on the last word. I clamped my mouth
shut.

His hand was still stationed on the empty
chair. He was quietly staring, possibly having second thoughts
about socializing with a basket case. I wanted him to stay, to help
me pass the time, to make my life a little more bearable for a
moment with the balm of his company.

He just stood there. The silence was
painful.

As I was about to let him off the hook, his
face and neck flushed.

“I have an ulterior motive,” he announced,
setting a rectangle on the table. “I found this in the lift. I
called your house this morning and the woman who answered told me
you were here. I wanted to see you. To give it back.”

“My phone!” I snatched it from the table and
flipped it open. Immediately scrolling through the pictures, I
landed on one of Sol getting a face full of snow during the weekend
we spent at a mountain cabin. The image made my face pucker. I hid
it behind my hands.

“I’d have had it back sooner, but the
chargers for this model are obsolete. And I only looked through it
to get your number. Have I done wrong?”

I took in a concentrated breath as he knelt
beside me. His hood had fallen back from his head.

“You did perfect!” I squealed and excitedly
shoved his shoulder. He lost his grip on the table and fell back on
his butt. I covered my mouth, “Sorry!”

“No worries,” he chuckled, rising from the
ground to dust off his backside.

“Thank you so much, Evan. You have no idea
how much this means to me!”

“I think I can guess.” His handsome face
widened with an amused grin.

“Thank you. So, so much. I was having the
worst day.”

“Want to talk about it?” His gaze grew
intense, darting from left to right before taking the offered
chair.

“No,” I smiled, giving in to his bright
eyes. “This was my husband’s phone.” I couldn’t keep my lips from
quivering. “How can I ever repay you?”

“
Start by having lunch with
me.”

I agreed with a stammer, suddenly vexed. “I
feel like such a baby. Every time I see you, I start bawling.”

“Do I smell that bad?” He lifted one arm to
take a whiff.

“Of course you do,” I poked.

His eyebrows comically pulled together.

“Lunch sounds good, but I’m buying. It’s the
least I can do.”

He shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t be right
if I let you, the woman, pay.”

“I am paying and don’t you dare argue with
me.” I cocked one eyebrow, giving him the look. It always worked on
Caleb.

His constant smile widened. “Right. You
win.”

When the waitress walked over, Evan flipped
his hood back up and looked down. I wondered, while wrangling
between the chicken salad and the cheeseburger, if he knew her. I
wanted the chicken, but the burger came with my favorite kind of
sour pickle.

“I’ll have the chicken salad.” I could order
one on the side to take home.

She turned to Evan. He was still looking at
the table, tracing the floral patterns on the iron tabletop.

“
. . . And for you, sir?” She
asked.

“Cheeseburger, no pickle, and fries,
please.” He didn’t lift his head.

“Are you sure about that?” I asked. “Because
this place is known for their pickles.” I turned to the waitress.
“Just bring his pickle, I’ll eat it.” And to Evan, “that is, if you
don’t mind.”

“I’m surprised you offered so quickly.” He
said, holding back a laugh.

At first, I didn’t get it, but when our eyes
met, I saw a spark of humor and repeated the exchange to myself,
feeling the awkward awareness on my face when Evan started
laughing.

Our little joke was of no consequence to the
server. “Rhys Matthews!”

Evans bright eyes turned flat. “You’ve got
the wrong guy.”

“It really
is
you!” She spouted, more determined. “I’d know
that voice anywhere!” She bounced and squealed with
excitement.

He looked around the café, visibly annoyed.
“Please, calm yourself.”

The girl was probably about twenty and
practically hyperventilating. Her shaking hands formed a fist
around the tablet that held our orders. Her eyes were larger than
her smile, which was enormous. She looked more like she’d won the
lottery—completely taken in and utterly overcome with jubilation.
It was very amusing and really strange.

Evan measured my reaction while his own held
reserve and guilt. As we exchanged glances, the young girl started
talking. Singing his praises while he adjusted himself in the
chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

She gushed, “All your movies are my favorite
because they’re scary, but not too freaky. I have to be your
biggest, most loyal fan.”

My eyes leapt from her to him and back. When
she complimented, he smiled, tentatively. When she asked questions,
he responded with a question that was off topic, or said something
completely ridiculous and she laughed.

She was bursting with curiosity. “Oh my God!
What are you doing here?”

“I heard the service here was brilliant and
had to see for myself.” He winked at her and glanced at me.

“Are you and Gretchen still together?” She
tossed a rueful glance in my direction, then added, “I hope so,
because you two are the perfect couple.”

“Would you like to take a picture with
me?”

Her response was a rapid, violently excited
nod. I was sure if I listened really hard, I would have heard her
brain rattling against her skull.

She took out her phone and leaned down,
placing her cheek against his. He compensated in a subtle way,
slightly moving away to toss her phone to me. When he leaned back,
he was close enough for the picture, but no longer touching. I
caught the cell and fumbled with the buttons until the camera came
on. Inside the tiny screen she smiled with obvious bliss while he
struck a pose that looked quite natural. Calm and pleasing. I
snapped the picture.

“One more. I blinked,” Evan said. The girl
and her grin stayed frozen as he slipped two fingers up behind her
head and crossed his eyes. As soon as the click sounded he was
nervous again.

Then, she was droning about how much she
admired everything related to him. His clothes, his wonderful
hair—oh how she’s spent hours staring at it, longing to touch
it!—and the way he set his hands on the table in front of him was
so sexy. At that, he stuffed them inside his sweatshirt. I
listened, in awe, as the girl made mention of a social networking
site that built an entire marketing campaign around the question of
what type of underwear he wore. Evan turned beet red.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” she
apologized, noting his change of color. “I mean, you must be used
to people talking about it. It’s been everywhere. I bought one of
the t-shirts that had—”

“Actually,” he interrupted, “I try not to
pay attention to any of that stuff.” His eyes met mine. “None of
it’s true.” One hand rose up to pinch his eyebrow.

The girl stared longingly, waiting for him
to return her gawk.

My stomach growled.

“Could you put in our orders, please?”

“Oh! Duh!” The waitress knocked the side of
her head and glanced at her forgotten notepad. “Sorry . . . what
did you want?”

“I’d like a cheeseburger, no pickle,” Evan
glanced at me from the corner of his eye, “and fries please. And I
will have an Arnold Palmer to drink.”

“We don’t serve alcohol.”

He shook his head. “Right. How ‘bout
this—can you fill a glass with half lemonade and half iced
tea?”

“
Yeah.”

“There you go,” he gestured grandly.

“I can make that!” She squealed, but didn’t
make a single move to fill the order.

I covered my mouth with my hands, trying to
stifle a laugh.

Evan pointed to me with his chin. “She’ll
have the chicken salad and another water.”

Finally. The young server took off toward
the kitchen.

Maybe it was the unexpected nature of the
situation, or the fact that I was overjoyed to have Sol’s phone
back. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, it didn’t
matter. It was hilarious. As soon as she was out of earshot, I lost
it.

“You find this funny? I thought her head was
going to pop off.”

I had a million questions—was his name
really Evan, or had he made that up, just like his job in
maintenance? What was this girl talking about? Who was
Gretchen?—But I couldn’t stop laughing. That waitress clung to
every syllable, absorbed in him to the point of catatonic
tendencies—what wasn’t funny about it?

High on endorphins, lighthearted and giddy,
I wiped my eyes as the girl returned with our drinks. She shoved a
bottle of water in front of me. I’d wanted a glass, but bit my lip
and watched. With Evan (if that was his real name), she lingered.
Slowly placing the items one at a time in front of him. First the
straw, then the napkins, the flatware, and last but not least, his
glass. Her manner, obviously meant to exclude me, was overt. I
laughed again, looking directly at her and not caring.

“Could you do me a favor?” He had her full
attention so there was no need to wait for an answer. “Wait until
after we’ve eaten to tell anyone. I’d like to have a quiet lunch
with my friend, here.”

The girl twirled around to face me. I was a
bit surprised at the murderous fire in her eyes, but managed to
keep my smile, part unwilling to allow her to stake whatever claim
she felt she had on my company and partly because I wanted to be a
stinker. The uprising came to an end. I kicked myself as she walked
away. I had no more claim on him than she did.

“Pickles,” he smirked.

I shook my head, feigning upset and
reprimanding with my eyes.

His visage grew hopelessly innocent.
“What?”

“You enjoy euphemisms?”

“I’m tremendously immature.”