Sweet as Pie by Alicia Hunter Pace
Chapter Twenty-Five
The day had started so well, but that was over.
“I’m not just sorry, Jake; I’m really sorry.” She would never be able to communicate the depth of her sorrow. He’d been to New Orleans, sure, but you didn’t get to know it by visiting now and then. She’d already mapped out in her mind the places she would take him in the French Quarter, the things she would show him. And he wanted to dance with her! The Quarter was made for dancing, made for romance.
He ran his hands through his hair and leaned his forearms on his knees. “Let me understand the situation here. You are going to a shower for my ex-wife, because she is having a baby with the man she left me for. That’s what you want to do instead of going to New Orleans with me.”
That sounded so much worse than it was. “I don’t want to. Of course I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t.” He said it like it was just that simple.
“I have to. I said I would.”
He shook his head. “Evie, you always do this—say yes, when you want to—should—say no.”
“I know! I know I do that, but it wasn’t like that this time. I’m trying to do better.”
“Then do better,” he said. “Call Channing and tell her you’re not coming. Go to New Orleans with me like you want to—assuming that is what you want to do.”
“It is. But my mother and sisters can’t go. And I did say no at first, but then my daddy said he really wanted me to. It’s not me. It’s my parents.”
He nodded. “It’s always somebody, always has been—your parents, your sisters, your friends, Claire. Even me.”
That hurt and she struck back. “Maybe especially you.”
“Doesn’t feel that way right now.”
“I’d go with you if I could.” Why couldn’t he see that?
“You can.”
“I have packages to deliver.” She gestured to the gifts from her mother and sisters and the one she had bought.
“We can send them,” he said.
This was maddening. Why was he being so unreasonable? “We can’t. The party is tomorrow afternoon. The post office closes at noon on Saturday. That’s less than an hour. Even if it didn’t, they couldn’t get there in time.”
“Of course they could—can. I can hire somebody to take them.”
“Who?”
He threw up his hands. “I don’t know. Somebody. A courier service. Uber driver. The kid who cleans the rink. There are a million ways.”
“The gifts aren’t the point. I should go. She is my cousin.”
“So what? She’s never been very nice to you. She didn’t even have you in our wedding when she had every other female she’d ever run into at a beauty shop.”
Not fair. And that our hurt more than she cared to admit. Which made her mean. “And why is that, Jake? Did you ever say, ‘What about Evie? Why isn’t my oldest friend, who happens to be your first cousin, a bridesmaid?’ No, you did not. You told me you didn’t even think about it. And why is that? Is it because you had ceased to ever think about me? Or talk to me. Do you think if you hadn’t abandoned our friendship that maybe my participation or lack thereof in your wedding might have come up when we talked?”
His face was a mix of mad and sad. “You said you didn’t care. You said you liked serving the cake.”
“You brought it up.” Evans crossed her arms in front of her.
“I did. But I guess all this is just one more thing you said yes to when you meant no—that you had forgiven me for ‘abandoning our friendship,’ as you put it. And clearly you’re pissed about not being in that damned three-ring-circus of a wedding when you said you weren’t. And you know what? I wish you had been in it and I had not.”
His face went to neutral and his shoulders sagged. Then he leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. All the passion had gone out of him. He didn’t seem angry anymore, but something worse. Defeated.
He was right, but she got the feeling if she said so, he would blast it back on her and say she was just being a yes girl. So she wouldn’t go there, but it might still be possible to turn this around. “Look, maybe we can work this out.”
He lifted his head and met her eyes. “Go on.”
“It doesn’t have to be New Orleans. When you first brought it up this was about going somewhere together to have some fun. We talked about other places. Why can’t it be Nashville?”
His mouth dropped open and he put up a hand, all the while shaking his head.
“Wait! Hear me out. We could go up today. You could show me Nashville like I was going to show you New Orleans. You talked about a concert.” She came across with what she hoped was a winning smile. “I have heard there’s some music to be had in Nashville, here and there. I could put in an appearance at the shower—an hour tops. And then we could get on with our weekend. It’s a lot closer than New Orleans and, truth be told, the weather will be better. Not so hot.”
For one bare second, she thought he was going to at least consider it, but then his mouth went to a hard line. “That’s not going to happen. I still want to go somewhere with you. I thought we’d decided on New Orleans, but I’m okay with anywhere except the one place where I was publicly humiliated and showed my ass because of it. I left a winning, top-notch team to get away from Nashville, and I am not going there today or any other day.”
“Nashville is where I have to be at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
His face was not neutral anymore, or angry. It was a study in sad. He got up and laid a hand on her cheek. He withdrew his hand and looked at her for a long moment. “It was really nice while it lasted. I think it might have been nice for a long time.”
He walked toward the door.
“Wait!” Think, Evans, think! There had to be a way to stop him, to fix this—but she came up empty.
He turned, and she thought she detected a little hope in his face.
“You don’t have a car.” Lame, but it was all she could think of. Maybe if she had to drive him home, that would buy time, and time could make this go away. “At least let me give you a ride.”
“A ride? Really, Evie?” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m not seventeen and drunk on tequila, needing you to hide me from my mama. I’m a grown ass man, now. Grown-ups figure it out. Give it a try some time.” And he was gone—leaving Evans sitting there in the nightgown that she had washed five times so it wouldn’t look new and a pair of skates that always would because they would never see the ice.