Ever Over After (The Over Duet #2) Page 2

  Sara rolls her eyes and shoves my shoulder. Then she shrugs, because she knows it’s true. Sara is a soon-to-be-expiring lease away from cohabitation with her fiancé, Adam, and his kids, Lily and Gage. He’s a tatted, hella sexy super dad, so I get the attraction. Not to mention, his kids are freaking adorable. Twins. Seriously, the whole lot are a Gap ad waiting to happen. Yeah, I totally get the attraction.

  The marriage part? Not so much. But Sara and I are hardwired differently, so I keep my mouth shut and hope her happily ever after isn’t just a happy for now. Dreamers don’t take kindly to realists pissing in their Cheerios.

  “I don’t want Adam to have to shush the kids all day while I sleep. That’s not fair to any of them. But I need my snuggles before I head to my house.” Her face gets all gooey and sweet, making me the teeniest bit nauseous, but I smile all the same.

  Her dream, not mine.

  It doesn’t escape my attention that she says “my house” and not “home.” I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss Sara lately. We’ve been next door neighbors for years, friends since college. I see her at work all the time, but it’s not the same as crossing the yard and hanging out with my friend. I’m being a whiny bitch, but sometimes it feels like she’s moving on without me.

  “Don’t forget I like sprinkles,” I call out as we head into the parking lot and go our separate ways.

  It’s not quite seven in the morning, and the city of Providence is still sleepy, making my drive home quick and painless. Some mornings, I find myself parked in my driveway with no recollection of how I got there. It scares the hell out me, so I make it a point to chug some Diet Dr. Pepper before hitting the road. Every night nurse has a poison of choice, and DDP is mine. We take our caffeine seriously.

  I trudge up my walkway, and tackle each porch step like the mountain it is. Almost. There.

  I slide the key into the lock before I notice it.

  A folded piece of paper wedged into the frame of the door, just above the knob. It’s probably a flyer of some sort. I pull it out of the door, noticing the weight of the paper feels less like Zippy’s Car Wash and more like a wedding invitation. So I flip it open.

  And all the blood drains from my face. My heart pounds in my ears like a thrumming drumbeat. An iron fist clenches my chest, wringing the breath from my lungs mercilessly. Years, years, of looking in the rearview mirror, and I come face to face with my past in a head-on collision—my scarred and blackened heart will certainly be one of the casualties. My fingers tremble uncontrollably as I jam the key into the lock and jiggle.

  “Come on, come on, come on,” I hiss, releasing a pent-up breath when the knob finally gives way. Once I stumble across the threshold, I throw my full weight into shoving the door closed and engaging the deadbolt. A rush of memories flits through my mind like a high speed highlight reel of the good, the bad, the ugly, and the irreparable.

  “Where are you, Ev—” I stop, his name lodging in my throat like a bowling ball.

  God…

  I can’t breathe.

  I can’t breathe.

  I can’t fucking breathe.

  My eyes refocus on the note clutched in my hand.

  Your lips luscious red,

  My balls achingly blue,

  Have you any idea

  How long I’ve searched for you?

  I bend back the window blinds and scan the road, looking for him, knowing he must be here. The street and driveways look peaceful and undisturbed, but I don’t trust my own eyes. In the span of a minute, sixty seconds, all my trust and confidence takes a nosedive into the back seat, then crawls into the trunk.

  Wouldn’t I feel him if he were here?

  I’m not sure anymore. It’s been so long. It’s been no time at all.

  Haven’t I always known it would come to this?

  Haven’t I?

  Marlo

  I DON’T ANSWER the door when Sara comes knocking. She’ll see right through me, and I have no intention of explaining. I’ve made it eight long years, keeping this from her—from nearly everyone. I see no reason to become Chatty Cathy now.

  I don’t go to sleep either. After a long shower filled with scrubbing and denial, I’m too wired up to even contemplate a nap. Thank God I don’t work again tonight. I’d be useless.

  I opt for baking, as I stare at the note sitting on my counter like it’s laced with anthrax. And isn’t it? The damn thing should have had “Enter at your own risk. Will blow up your life as you know it” written on the front.

  Fucking Ever.

  Months ago, I’d waited for the other shoe to drop. Alex had mentioned in passing that her caterer had asked after me, said he’d known me a long time ago, and it’d put me on edge. I had never asked her about it further, opting for blatant denial instead of ripping open the fragile scars of the past. It wouldn’t take much to turn it into a gaping wound, so I’d turned a blind eye and had hoped for the best. It’s been months. I had thought it’d been a fluke, just one of those weird coincidences of life. Sure, Ever had been quite the cook years ago, in another life, but he’s probably a junior partner at his father’s law firm by now.

  So I’d let it go.

  And now I’m furiously whipping up cotton candy on my stove as the perfect adornment to my pink and blue swirled cupcakes with buttercream frosting. Nothing tastes as dreamy as spun sugar and icing. I’ll drop these to Sara and the kids as an apology for ignoring her this morning.

  I’m composed enough now to face her, and that’s exactly what I’ll do to get the answers I need.

  Ever may have the upper hand, for now, but I have every intention of getting control of this situation. Control is what I do best.

  He’ll never know what hit him.

  “It’s so melty,” Lily says, cake crumbs spewing out of her mouth as she looks at me in awe.

  As far as kids are concerned, the baker walks on water. I swipe a finger through the icing and tap her button nose. She jumps, making her corkscrew curls bounce, and lets out an ear-piercing giggle.

  Gage never even looks up as he mows down his second cupcake. He may be tiny, but he can still devour the damn thing in three bites. His dad would be proud.

  “Hmmph.” Sara tosses a plate with a sad looking donut on top of it, shriveled up with sprinkles flaking off the chocolate. “Here’s your donut, Marlo, since you couldn’t be bothered to answer when I stopped by. Eat up!”

  “Ew, that’s nasty,” Gage mumbles through his mouthful of cake, scrunching up his nose and shaking his head.

  I smile sweetly and push the plate toward the center of the table. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not hungry. Thanks, though.”

  Sara purses her lips as she wipes Lily and Gage’s mouths.

  “Likely story.” A smile tugs at Sara’s lips, and she breaks out into laughter when I start flicking petrified sprinkles at her face. “Stop, you wench! I’m gonna have to pick that up.”

  I toss the donut into the trash as she cleans mouths, hands, and hair. Lily and Gage wriggle and pull, desperate to escape Sara and her wet wipes. Can’t say I blame them. I prop a hip on the counter as they dash out of the kitchen and feign nonchalance.

  “So, how’s the wedding planning going?”

  Sara swings her disbelieving eyes back to me.

  “Who are you, and what the hell have you done with my friend?”

  “Shut up.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Whatever.” I blow out a breath and shrug. The question isn’t that out of character.

  “I’ve been neck deep in baby’s breath and tulle for months, and the only thing you’ve ever said about this wedding is ‘I’m a size six. No Easter-colored dresses, and make sure it’s low cut enough to show off the girls.’” She tips her eyes to the ceiling and points her finger in the air. “Wait, there was that time you said, ‘I know a stripper who makes Channing Tatum look like Elaine from Seinfeld. Let me know when to call him.’” She nods with pursed lips. “Yep, that’s it. That’s
the extent of your wedding planning help.”

  Okay, so maybe I haven’t been the best friend lately.

  “I’m turning over a new leaf,” I say, giving her a toothy grin.

  “Is that so?” She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

  Little does she know, I’m a master at the art of disguise. Sara’s way too wholesome and naive for the likes of me.

  “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed spending time with you,” I say, and it comes out genuine, mostly because it is. I do miss her. That’s the number one rule of deception—stick to the truth as much as possible. “Have you found a photographer? A florist? A caterer?”

  My voice upticks slightly at the mention of the caterer, but Sara misses it like the novice she is. I smile and nod through her disbelief at the price of photographers and her struggle in deciding between peonies and classic roses. I swipe at my ears a time or two, because I swear to Christ, they’re bleeding.

  “Mmmhhmmm,” I say, agreeing with whatever crap she just said about cream and white wedding dresses. If you ask me, finding a virgin bride in this day and age is the equivalent of discovering an alien in the Circle K, so wear white, cream, or hell, purple, if that’s your jam.

  “I’m gonna be the flower guwl.” Lily stands on her tip toes, reaching for the cupcakes Sara placed on top of the counter.

  “And I’m giving RaRa away,” Gage says from the doorway, chest puffed up and head high. Sara’s dad passed away when she was a child, so she gave Gage the prestigious honor of walking her down the aisle. I can’t think of anything more fitting.

  These kids. Even my black heart pumps a little faster when they’re around. It’s only temporary, mind you. The coal sets back in within minutes of being gone from their presence.

  Sara swats Lily’s hand playfully and pokes her belly. “Not now, Lily pad. You’ll ruin your supper. Besides, you want to leave some for Daddy, don’t you?”

  Lily’s expression says she definitely does not want to leave any for Adam, but she complies grudgingly. Once the kids filter out of the kitchen for the second time, I turn back to Sara.

  “And the caterer?” I prompt.

  I can’t help it, my skin prickles with awareness, and I hate it. Who knows, I could be way off base. Just because she’d asked Alex who’d catered her wedding doesn’t mean she followed up. And I’m still not entirely certain Ever had been Alex’s caterer.

  Who am I kidding? I’m pretty damn sure.

  “That’s the one thing I’m not worried about in the least. I could just kiss Alex for giving me his name. With tongue.”

  Sara turns around to wash the plates in the sink, oblivious to my internal tug-of-war between calm and bat shit crazy.

  “Who is he?”

  “It’s two guys, actually, but I deal mostly with Jeb.”

  Bingo.

  Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Where there’s Jeb, there’s Ever. I guaran-fucking-tee it. Although, it surprises me Jeb has a career in food. I hadn’t realized he’d had an interest in it back then. Hearing Jeb’s name roll off Sara’s tongue as though it’s nothing is like a thread of nostalgia stitching its way through my heart. Hearing Ever’s name is more like a serrated knife taking the fateful plunge.

  “The menu? Oh my gosh, Marlo, it’s to die for. They do this whole fresh, farm-to-table, Cajun thing. I swear, I had to wipe the drool from my mouth just reading his suggested menu.” She turns off the faucet and faces me. “And get this. Jeb is creating an original drink list just for my wedding. It’s a specialty of his. He’s a gourmet mixologist or something like that. How amazing is that?”

  Sara practically vibrates with excitement, so overcome with the details, she doesn’t notice my nerves. I knew where this was headed the second I’d read Ever’s note, but her words are like a notary stamp on the damn thing.

  This is happening.

  “That’s … so amazing,” I say, hoping she can’t see the reel of thoughts fast forwarding through my head on my spool of crazy. After years of building up my defenses, constructing an impenetrable wall, Ever manages to scale it with nothing more than a poem and a chef’s hat.

  Why now?

  Who does he think he is?

  What does he want?

  What in the hell should I do?

  “Hey, they have a booth at the local farmer’s market this weekend, kind of a pop-up Mexican/Cajun fusion type of thing. You wouldn’t…” Sara hesitates, and I raise my eyebrows in question.

  Just ask me already!

  “Would you want to come with me? Try out the food and see what you think? I could use a little help with the two monsters,” she says, as she peeks into the living room at Lily and Gage, a sweet smile playing on her lips. She loves those little monsters so completely.

  “I would love to come with you. Nothing would make me happier.”

  Sara claps and squeals in excitement. I shrug and smile painfully as she pulls me into a bear hug. My stomach rolls at the thought of coming face to face with Ever. I clasp and unclasp my hands, trying to shake the nerves threatening to overtake me. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice.

  Yes, this is happening. He doesn’t know I’ll be there, and that’s exactly how I want it. It’ll be on my terms.

  And I’ll shut it down quicker than Ever can say “jambalaya.”

  Marlo

  “I’M GONNA GET you wet, Lo Lo,” Lily squeals as she collects droplets of water into her tiny fists and propels them in my general direction.

  She misses me by a mile, but still laughs long and deep, clutching her belly like she’s holding her giggle box in place. She runs back toward the fountain, her purple ruffled bathing suit wedgie exposing one butt cheek.

  “It’s cute enough to squeeze,” I say to Sara, putting my finger and thumb together like I’m pinching her little booty from afar.

  “Juicy enough to bite,” Sara says, clanking her teeth together and humming.

  I shove her shoulder and point at her. “We’re quite literally surrounded by food, Sara. No need to eat Lily’s ass.”

  I shake my head in feigned disappointment, and Sara lowers her head in mock shame. Then she clanks her teeth together again and grins.

  The farmer’s market was already in full swing by the time we’d arrived. We’d stopped by a few booths with fresh root vegetables and homemade hot tamales, but it didn’t take long for the natives to get restless. Luckily, Sara came prepared with swimsuits and towels, knowing the fountain is a favorite of theirs. Hours of entertainment getting sprayed in the face with water—every kid’s dream.

  She laid a large quilted blanket out on the grass next to the fountain, and we’ve been lounging in the sun ever since—Sara in her baseball cap and running shorts, and me in my Jackie O shades, for maximum coverage. The only thing anyone will take me for is a mirror-eyed insect. No way will anyone notice it’s me.

  Gage runs in between the shooting jets of water, howling like a wolf at midnight and dodging petrified little girls, just barely. He plops down on top of one of the jets of water and it shoots through the legs and back of his camouflage swim trunks.

  “Dude’s gonna give himself an enema,” I say, sucking on the hibiscus honey stick I’d bought from the beekeeper’s booth at the market entrance.

  “Ha! It can’t hurt—the boy’s full of shit, even at the ripe old age of six. Between Cain and Adam, it’s like Frat House Rock lessons at the Hunt household. Lily and I hide out in her bedroom having tea parties when they get going. Bunch of butt scratchin’ boys …”

  Cain is Adam’s best friend, landlord, and also our friend, Celia’s, boyfriend. Yeah, Celia’s the latest in a line of my friends to fall victim to the virus called commitment. Another one bites the dust. I hope it isn’t contagious, but I’ll wear a surgical mask if I have to.

  “That’s why you invite boys to visit, my friend. Not to live,” I say, and she rolls her eyes. “I’ll spare you my theories on relationships, since this is a wedding errand.”

  “Thank Chris
t,” she mutters under her breath while pulling the bill of her cap down over her eyes.

  “Speaking of the wedding, aren’t we here to taste some vittles?”

  “Vittles? You’re so freaking weird.”

  “Whatever, just feed me. I’ll watch Princess and Poopie.”

  “Don’t call them that!”

  “Am I wrong?”

  She tilts her to the side and purses her lips. “Okay, not really, but still. They’re my Princess and Poopie.”

  And there it is. She may not have been present for their first breaths, or changed their craptastic diapers, but they are hers. And I would bet if I asked them, they’d say Sara is theirs. Hell, if I dared to ask Adam, he’d probably throw her over his shoulder to show me he means business. And that caveman nonsense is a beautiful thing.

  It’s not for me, but it’s a beautiful thing all the same.

  “Fair enough.” I raise my hands in defeat. “You know I think they’re amazing.”

  She nods, and her eyes drift to them—Gage still sitting on top of the water stream, and Lily pulling with all her might to get him off. He’s not budging.

  I snap my fingers in front of Sara’s dreamy eyes, and she turns to me, annoyed.

  “Feed me, Seymour. Momma’s hungry.”

  “I forgot what a pain in the ass you can be,” she says, jumping up and grabbing her wallet. “Jeb said he’s going to fix a picnic basket of goodies for us to taste test. If you’re lucky, I’ll give you some.”

  She saunters away in the opposite direction from which we came, and I crane my neck to see where exactly she’s headed. I lose track of her as the crowd swallows her up and she completely disappears from view. I stand and raise up on my toes, lowering my sunglasses to get a clearer look.

  Nothing. Well, shit.

  Sara returns with a picnic basket filled to the brim with food of the gods. I know this because I’d orgasmed when she’d opened the lid and the aroma had wafted my way. She pulls out Lily and Gage’s lunch first from a bag labeled “kiddos.” This looks more like standard Mexican fare, and Sara sets out soft tacos and chips with cheese dip. Both kids dig in like they haven’t eaten in weeks.