She looks amazing. And like nothing that belongs in here.
I glance around the garage and then let my eyes sweep over her. “It looks like you got lost…” I do a double-take on the sexy-as-hell suede booties that show off the scarlet tips of her toenails. I force myself to look up “... on the way to a party.”
She shakes her head, her eyes narrowed with ire. “No, I made it to the party, but the person I wanted to be with the most wasn’t there.” She sets down the thermos on the Supra’s chasse. “So I decided to bring the party to him.”
The person I wanted to be with the most.
The words run over me, searing me all the way down. That is exactly how I would describeher.She is the person I want to be with the most. The only person. I’ve missed her with a longing I’ve never known. One I don’t want to be cured of.
But this is torture because she shouldn’t be here, and I don’t know if I can find the will to make her go. I glance at the wall clock and get a jolt when I see it’s almost eleven.
I frown. “How did you get here?”
Evie stares at me like I’m daft. “I walked.”
She walked. Looking like that. At this hour. I grit my teeth. “That’s dangerous.”
Tilting her chin down and looking up at me under her lashes, Evie bats her eyes with unmistakable irony. “It’s just around the block, and, well, I couldn’t exactly drive,” she says, patting the top of her thermos with one hand.
If I want her to leave — and I don’t — I’ll have to take her home myself. She sure as hell isn’t walking back alone.
Evie sets the two cups side by side on the edge of the Supra’s frame and unscrews the lid of the thermos. She pours, and a slushy frozen margarita spills into the first cup, a little splashing over the side and onto the car.
“How much of that have you had?”
She raises a hand to silence me, and it’s this motion that shows me she’s had more than one. Evie fills the second cup before replacing the lid. Then she lifts both and her eyes meet mine.
“Here. Drink with me.” She thrusts one toward my chest. “And I’ll accept your apology.”
Alcohol is off limits while I’m on probation, but I don’t know if I’ve ever needed a drink more. I take the cup. “My apology?”
Evie lowers her lashes. This time there’s no irony in her demure expression. I see hurt etched around her eyes.
“For pretending I didn’t exist the other day.” Injury is layered in her voice too. “It was cruel and humiliating.”
In prison, the threat of being stabbed with a shiv was low, but still real. Sometimes, I’d wonder what it would feel like. To be cut open with something usually innocent and harmless. Like a toothbrush or a comb.
With Evie’s words, I don’t wonder anymore. I’m gutted.
If someone else hurt her the way I’ve hurt her, I’d want to kill the bastard.
“I’m sorry.”
At my words, she raises her gaze to mine, and I tell her the truth. “You deserve better.”
One of her delicate brows lifts. “From you?” she asks, not missing a beat and teasing out my ambiguity.
“Thanme.” I chase the words with a slug of margarita. It’s cold and strong, but too sweet for this moment.
Evie narrows her eyes. “I won’t drink to that.”
I set down the cup.“Andfrom me,” I say because it’s true.
She drinks, keeping her eyes on mine the whole time.
Because I have to know, I ask. “How are you?” My voice is low, but I’m afraid she can still hear my need. “You moved out.”
Evie nods, looks down at her cup. “It was time. I needed to make a point.”