“Eventually,” I say taking the seat across from her. “I’m sure you’ll wear me down. You’re good at that.”
Her mouth twitches. I want to lean across the small table and kiss it, but I resist the urge. Being caught kissing once today is enough. Instead, I study the lettering on the table.
United we rise.
Evie’s gaze follows mine. She reads the words, smiles, and reaches across the table for my hand. “Words to live by,” she murmurs.
How can I tell her I have already risen?
The kid emerges from the kitchen with our coffee and donuts just as the opening tabs of a song I haven’t heard in years comes through the speakers. “Like a Stone” by Audioslave. I remember that Chris Cornell is dead. That news had shocked the shit out of me last year when I heard about it inside.
I listen to him sing about death and destiny and wonder if he’s found that room.
And if we’re good we’ll lay to rest
Anywhere we want to go.
The old words ring new. Because before I met Evie, I would have just welcomed the oblivion of the grave. A place where I didn’t have to think about Anthony or Ma or all the shit I’ve done.
But now, I want to be wherever she is. Even if she cuts me loose in a few months. Or a few weeks.
Especially if she cuts me loose.
Who am I kidding? She’ll cut me loose. She’ll do it sweet. She’ll be gentle, even heartbroken about it. But Evie’s a smart woman. It won’t take her long to realize she deserves better than me. And when she does, I’ll make it easy on her. It’ll be the most I can give her.
“Aren’t you going to try it?”
Evie is eyeing me over her latte. I look down at the perfect leaf pattern floating atop my coffee and wonder how the hell they did that.
“You okay?” she asks, studying me with concern.
“Yeah.” I shrug and pick up the cup. “Just haven’t heard this song in a while.”
Her brows lift. “Oh, yeah. It’s sad,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “It’s supposed to be about heaven, but it really sounds like hell. I mean, why would you want to spend eternity waiting for someone who didn’t love you?”
Breath catches in my throat. I clear it and stall my answer with a sip of coffee. The depth of its frothy top surprises me before the rich, milky coffee hits my tongue. This is nothing like Grandma Q’s drip brew.
Yeah, I’m going to need to get a third job.
I swallow, closing my eyes and making a mindless grunt of approval. Then I open them to find Evie’s gratified smile.
She is so lovely.
“I don’t know.” I meet her gaze, daring to answer her question. “Would it be heaven if the person you loved the most wasn’t there?”
Her lips part in surprise, and I hold her stare for as long as I can without letting her see right through me. It isn’t very long.
“Speaking of heaven,” I say, picking up my fork and making a clean slice through the pink, sprinkle-topped cake doughnut on my plate. “You said something about this living up to Nirvana.”
She beams. “Try it and tell me I’m wrong.”
I do. And I can’t. Because, by my own definition, I’m in heaven.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
EVIE
The fact that Drew cleans his plate and then helps himself to the few surviving sweet potato curls in my bowl leaves me feeling rather smug.