messy.”
“Everly?” I don’t know why I asked this. Maybe I was surprised at her words—her boldness. Maybe I just wanted to make sure it was really her on the other end.
“Yep. ’S me. Why’d you leave, August…Auggie.” She laughed. “You don’t like being called Auggie. But you probably already remember that. You remember everything now.”
She sounded sad about that little fact, but I let that go, focusing on bigger issues.
“Where are you?”
“Bar downtown. We’re celebrating me getting married.”
My heart sank as her words settled in place.
“You’re married?” I whispered.
“Nooooo.” Her voice, low and raspy, nearly sung the word as I breathed out a sigh of relief. “My bachelor party,” she slurred once again.
Bachelorette party, I interpreted. She wasn’t married yet. I shouldn’t care, but I did.
When it came to Everly, I would always care too much.
Even when she was some other man’s wife.
“Why are you calling me, Everly?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“I had to pee,” she began, pausing for a moment. I could imagine her swaying back and forth in some darkened hallway. I hoped it was a safe one. “My friends were supposed to show me a good time tonight because I had to spend all day with my evil mother-in-law. Evil mother-in-law to-be,” she corrected herself. “She doesn’t like my hair. Or my pretty dress. Do you like my dress, Auggie?”
“I like everything about you,” I answered honestly, knowing she wouldn’t remember a damn thing about this conversation by morning. Remembering the few times we’d drunk way too much wine with dinner, I knew one thing about Everly.
She was a horrible drunk. She’d be out like a light in less than an hour and would wake up with a bitch of a hangover and little memory of the night before. It’s why she didn’t drink excessively. She hated the feeling of losing control.
Me? The way my life was going lately—drinking was the only thing that felt halfway like living.
“No you don’t,” she sighed. “You hate me, because of what I did—because of what I did to you. You know, I dream of that night sometimes?”
“Me too,” I replied.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so angry, and then we collided and you crumbled to the ground. I thought you were dead.” She was nearly frantic in her drunken haze as she recalled the events of that night.
“It’s okay, Everly,” I tried to say.
“No it’s not! I should have told someone then what happened. But I was so scared. What if they didn’t believe me? What if I went to jail? I don’t know why I did it—no, that’s not true. I do. I did it because I was scared I’d be taken away from you.”
Confusion blossomed in my mind. “But you left me anyway.”
“I didn’t want to.”
“You had to,” I said, realizing she’d done what was right. For both of us.
“We were toxic. So very toxic. I thought we could heal—when you came back, and didn’t remember anything. But we still fell apart. And now you hate me. And honestly, I wish I hated you too. I want to hate you. It would be so much easier.” He voice cracked, the pain in her words making my chest hurt.
“I know.”
“Why can’t I hate you, Auggie?”
“Probably for the same reason I can’t hate you,” I confessed.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I replied, quickly changing the subject. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your party now?”
“Probably,” she confessed. “All my friends were texting their guys, making goofy happy grins while I just stared at them dumbfounded. So I got up and peed. And then I called you.”
It wasn’t exactly a profession of love, but I didn’t miss the fact that she hadn’t called Ryan.
She’d called me.
“Why did you leave me, August?” she asked, her voice turning serious.
“I didn’t. You left me.”
She groaned, giving a bit of levity to the serious tone. “You
“Everly?” I don’t know why I asked this. Maybe I was surprised at her words—her boldness. Maybe I just wanted to make sure it was really her on the other end.
“Yep. ’S me. Why’d you leave, August…Auggie.” She laughed. “You don’t like being called Auggie. But you probably already remember that. You remember everything now.”
She sounded sad about that little fact, but I let that go, focusing on bigger issues.
“Where are you?”
“Bar downtown. We’re celebrating me getting married.”
My heart sank as her words settled in place.
“You’re married?” I whispered.
“Nooooo.” Her voice, low and raspy, nearly sung the word as I breathed out a sigh of relief. “My bachelor party,” she slurred once again.
Bachelorette party, I interpreted. She wasn’t married yet. I shouldn’t care, but I did.
When it came to Everly, I would always care too much.
Even when she was some other man’s wife.
“Why are you calling me, Everly?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“I had to pee,” she began, pausing for a moment. I could imagine her swaying back and forth in some darkened hallway. I hoped it was a safe one. “My friends were supposed to show me a good time tonight because I had to spend all day with my evil mother-in-law. Evil mother-in-law to-be,” she corrected herself. “She doesn’t like my hair. Or my pretty dress. Do you like my dress, Auggie?”
“I like everything about you,” I answered honestly, knowing she wouldn’t remember a damn thing about this conversation by morning. Remembering the few times we’d drunk way too much wine with dinner, I knew one thing about Everly.
She was a horrible drunk. She’d be out like a light in less than an hour and would wake up with a bitch of a hangover and little memory of the night before. It’s why she didn’t drink excessively. She hated the feeling of losing control.
Me? The way my life was going lately—drinking was the only thing that felt halfway like living.
“No you don’t,” she sighed. “You hate me, because of what I did—because of what I did to you. You know, I dream of that night sometimes?”
“Me too,” I replied.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so angry, and then we collided and you crumbled to the ground. I thought you were dead.” She was nearly frantic in her drunken haze as she recalled the events of that night.
“It’s okay, Everly,” I tried to say.
“No it’s not! I should have told someone then what happened. But I was so scared. What if they didn’t believe me? What if I went to jail? I don’t know why I did it—no, that’s not true. I do. I did it because I was scared I’d be taken away from you.”
Confusion blossomed in my mind. “But you left me anyway.”
“I didn’t want to.”
“You had to,” I said, realizing she’d done what was right. For both of us.
“We were toxic. So very toxic. I thought we could heal—when you came back, and didn’t remember anything. But we still fell apart. And now you hate me. And honestly, I wish I hated you too. I want to hate you. It would be so much easier.” He voice cracked, the pain in her words making my chest hurt.
“I know.”
“Why can’t I hate you, Auggie?”
“Probably for the same reason I can’t hate you,” I confessed.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I replied, quickly changing the subject. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your party now?”
“Probably,” she confessed. “All my friends were texting their guys, making goofy happy grins while I just stared at them dumbfounded. So I got up and peed. And then I called you.”
It wasn’t exactly a profession of love, but I didn’t miss the fact that she hadn’t called Ryan.
She’d called me.
“Why did you leave me, August?” she asked, her voice turning serious.
“I didn’t. You left me.”
She groaned, giving a bit of levity to the serious tone. “You
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