Never now, p.22
Never Now, page 22
“That’s coming from the pregnant girl who looks like she’s walked right off the newest punk-rock catwalk. I mean, how do you look so good, Lo? They were not fucking around when talking about a pregnancy glow.”
She rolls her eyes, dragging a strand of hair behind her ear. “I may look good, but I feel like a fucking whale. I didn’t know backs could ache this much.”
I stare at her black Rockstud Valentino tote her parents sent her last year for missing her birthday. It’s not something she would ever spend the money on herself, but who in their right mind would say no to that, especially when the bag is so Lottie?
“Why doesn’t handsome over here hold your bag?” I’m clearly joking but Owen frowns at Lottie, to which she simply rolls her eyes. She’s getting too good at that.
“What did I miss?” I laugh.
“Handsome over here has already asked like ten times. I’m pregnant, not old. Now, let’s get moving. I’ll be pissed if we’re late and miss Evie’s sausage rolls.”
Owen’s brow creases and I look at him with the same confusion. “Um, Lottie,” he says with caution, as if perhaps she could detonate, “Evie doesn’t make sausage rolls on Sunday nights.”
I nod in agreement, worried about why he is so worried.
“Jesus, the look on both of your faces. I’m not gonna go off my rocker or cry.” She scrunches up her face, looking at us as though we’re mad. “I spoke to Evie earlier, told her my cravings, and she said she would make some for me.”
Owen lets out a laugh. “Of course she did.”
I can’t help but giggle at the two of them acting like a bickering married couple. I glance at my mobile, and we are indeed going to be late, so we get a move on, all of us walking toward Lottie’s parents’ car. Oh God, she’s pulled it out of storage again.
She hands Owen the keys and my eyes near burst out of my head. No one drives this car but Lottie, and even then there is fear for our lives if it gets wrecked.
She opens the passenger door, muttering, “One bad mood swing and everyone handles me with kiddie gloves.”
I look at Owen as her door slams, my eyebrows drawn.
Shaking his head, he says, “Don’t even ask.” He laughs before getting into the car, leaving me wondering what the heck is going on.
“I just want to say a few words.” Evie’s melodic voice interrupts everyone’s chatter, our gazes all zeroing in on her at the head of the table. Stana sits on her right, with Ali next to her and me next to him. Across from me is Reeve, while Owen and Lottie are beside him, with Steve taking the other head. Despite my best efforts to act natural, my face burns with the feeling of Reeve’s gaze, which I’ve caught staring at me all night.
“Now, I know this Sunday night dinner is a long-running tradition, but it’s been over a year now.” She shakes her head. “I can hardly believe it. A whole year since our family was all together. I just wish Hugo could be here. But to make it even better, we have two”—she grabs hold of Stana’s and Lottie’s hands—“amazing new additions.”
“Nearly three,” Owen calls out, to which Evie only beams more.
“Yes!” she exclaims. “Of course I haven’t forgotten about the little one on the way! Soon we’re going to need a bigger table.” We all laugh, ease and comfort slipping back into my soul.
“Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m so proud to be in all of your lives. Each of you individually enriches my own life in a unique, special way, and it’s clear we would not be a well-oiled running machine without each and every one of you. I love you all so dearly.” Blinking a few times, she returns to her seat. Steve comes around the table to fill up her champagne glass, but I know it’s so he can give her a small kiss on the head.
I can’t help but smile at the fact Evie found someone to love her as deeply as she loves others. I’ve been lucky enough to feel the love of some incredible people in this lifetime, none more powerful than that of my own mother, but Evie’s comes a close second. I know I could go to her with anything and it would be kept in the strictest of confidences.
“To family,” Ali toasts, to which everyone replies with full glasses, all thanks to Steve. We all begin eating, the food second to none. As I dig into my roast chicken, I can’t help but think back to all those times with Reeve when he made me dinner, his cooking above impressive.
As if thinking the same thing, Reeve lifts his head up, our eyes connecting along with our souls. My chest stops falling and rising, my fork raised in midair, and the world is suspended. It’s just the two of us in that moment.
Owen’s arm reaching across me for the peas pulls me out of the trance, Reeve even looking slightly taken aback. It’s completely natural when I smile at him, my insides warming when I’m graced with one of his back. Despite all I know, all the shit that has happened, it’s in these small moments my resolve weakens. So, no matter how much I want to keep staring at him, I look away, but not before catching Ali’s knowing gaze. He merely smirks at me before turning back to listen to what Stana is saying.
Little things like that have been happening all night. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is acting as if nothing ever transpired with Reeve, yet I see them looking at me, or him, every now and then. It’s odd, but I guess when everyone said they would move on and act normal, they must really have meant it. It’s what I asked for, so why does it bother me so much?
I partake in conversation with the girls for the rest of dinner, making sure not to look across the table again, for fear the desire in my heart will betray me and I will jump across the table to maul Reeve. Who knows, maybe that would really shock the hell out of everyone.
Shaking my head, I dismiss my crazy antics, deciding it’s best I accept and get used to this environment I’m surrounded by, no matter how wrong it all feels when my heart is telling me I should be sitting by the man on the other side of the table.
I’m exiting Evie’s front gate when my name is called. Turning, I spot Reeve bounding down the stairs, coming my way. I pause, my mind battling over whether I should stay and talk or make up an excuse for why I need to be home soon. Of course, the latter would be easier, but I promised myself I would try to be friends with him, no matter how hard.
I stay silent, now on the other side of the gate as he appears before me, his coat in his hand as though he grabbed it in a rush.
“You’re going home?” he asks, despite knowing the answer.
I nod. “I’ve got a huge deadline. I honestly wish I could stay for pudding, but I need to get home.” I wrap my arms around myself, bobbing back and forth on my heels.
“You didn’t say goodbye.” The statement is quick, vulnerable, and very unlike Reeve. I try not to let the guilt gnaw at me.
“It wasn’t personal, I just didn’t want to make a fuss.” It’s partly true. I told Evie and Ali I was leaving while everyone else fussed over the game of Cluedo in the living room.
We’re silent for a few more moments, Reeve’s stare probing, my eyes desperate to look away.
“Uh, can I walk you?”
Nervous Reeve is not one I’m familiar with, so instead of letting my brain overanalyze, I nod, beginning to head in the direction of home.
Our steps ring out as we walk side by side, our motions somehow synchronized.
“So, how’s the Wentworth Estate going? They still have you on March deadline?”
I smile at him remembering the little things. Now that I think back on it, Reeve always did remember details I said more than anyone else.
“It’s surprisingly going really well. I’m no longer working with that prick who wouldn’t give me the names of his clients. It’s this woman instead, she’s great. I’ve mostly got all the work done; I just have some small touches to add.”
“Seems like you had a productive month,” he replies.
“I had a lot of time to think,” I whisper, then instantly regret it.
Reeve stops walking. “I know words are cheap and all you can go by are my actions, but I am sorry. I never thought we would get to this point.”
I don’t turn around, for fear he will see the shine behind my eyes. The giveaway to all the hurt and love I still have inside of me. The anger is gone, no longer poisoning the well that is my soul.
“It’s okay, Reeve,” I tell him honestly. “You’ve actually always been there for me as a friend, more than anyone else I’ve ever known. I guess we just messed it all up trying to turn it into something else.”
I look straight ahead, shadows of others lining my vision while streetlamps illuminate my path home. I look at anything and everything to keep myself from looking at him.
“I don’t know if I believe that, Em. I don’t think we were a mess; we just went about it all wrong. I went about it all wrong.”
Shaking my head, I let out a deep breath. “It’s all in the past now. No need to dwell on ancient hurt.” My eyes squeeze together as if letting in any light could burn them out of their sockets. When I’m certain I’ve composed myself, I turn to Reeve, giving him my best smile. “You know, you don’t have to keep sending me presents. You don’t have to buy back our friendship.” I mean it purely as a joke, to lighten the mood, but when the words leave my mouth, I realize how bad it sounds. Not for a second did I ever think he was trying to buy his way back.
“It wasn’t supposed to come off that way,” he replies, his voice uncertain. “I just wanted you to know I was thinking of you. It was small things I thought you’d like.”
Feeling like a dick, I nudge his arm. “I’m only joking. Come on, I need to get home before Cora. Otherwise, Lord knows I won’t get any work done.”
He smiles back at me, but it’s forced. Nevertheless, he picks up his pace, his scent of pine and mint invading all my senses when he’s next to me.
We walk in silence that is surprisingly comfortable, my body warming at his proximity and familiarity. Despite being away from him for only a month, I missed his friendship as much as his love. A friendship I’ve had for so many years, his presence has become second nature to be around.
Eventually I break the silence, and we begin to talk. First about his job, and then l tell him of my plans for Lottie’s baby shower. The conversation is mundane, nothing too heavy, as we aren’t yet ready. But it warms a part of me nonetheless.
So, when we stand in front of my flat and bid our goodbyes, I can’t help but notice the lingering sense of longing that has increased in my mind, along with the feeling that I’ve made a very horrible mistake in cutting him out.
The human mind is a strange thing. It holds years’ worth of memories and information, seemingly having endless storage. It tells you what foods you like, what you hate, who and what you fear and love. Countless things.
One thing it’s also exceptionally skilled at is convincing you that you don’t want something. Out of sight, out of mind. But what happens when that thing comes back? During my time away from Reeve, I managed to convince myself I would eventually be okay without him coming around again. That all our choices the past six months were errors in judgment, and I could move on. Yet one look at him last week at Evie’s and all of that convincing feels especially weak.
So, as I sit here, listening to “Shameful Company” by RKS and adding red, pink, and blue to my canvas, I give myself a few moments for the love and doubt to sink in. It must be a few hours later when Cora exits her bedroom, her black hair now streaked with strands of blue. Demon is right on her heels, following her like a shadow.
“It looks good,” I say, motioning to her hair.
She shrugs. “I don’t hate it.”
I laugh in the way only Cora can make me with her silliness.
“You home tonight?”
I shake my head. “The guys have a gig at Saint Street. Figured I’m basically done with all this, so I can go. Want to come?” I ask her every time, but it’s always the same reaction.
“No thanks. See you later,” she calls out as she strolls to the front door.
I grin to myself, turning back to my work.
“Uh, Emilia, there is a cardboard cutout of Edward Cullen at the door for you.”
I jump up from my work, unsure what the bloody hell Cora is talking about.
And true to her word, as the image before me comes into view, there is indeed a cardboard cutout of Edward.
“What the fuck?” I ask more to myself than anyone else.
Cora eyes the thing as if it might bite her. That would be fitting, him being a vampire and all. “Listen, Em, I know I’m into Wicca and all, but you do know this movie was fiction? I thought the craze of having cardboard cutouts was so 2009?”
“I didn’t order it!” I exclaim, getting up and moving to inspect it.
“Holy shit, I think it’s signed,” she says, then suddenly laughs as if that’s the funniest thing ever.
“What?” Walking over, I see it is indeed signed by Robert Pattinson. Wow, my sixteen-year-old self would be swooning.
At the thought of sixteen-year-old Em, it’s clear who this is from.
“Looks like Loverboy isn’t taking no for an answer,” Cora says. Her gaze darts to the back of the cutout before she grabs her purse and slips out the door. Demon scratches at the door for a few moments, probably hoping Cora will come back, before he retreats.
I try to ignore the way my heart clenches at the gesture, especially knowing how much he hated sitting through the movies with me. As much as I try to deny it, a small smile pulls at my lips when I sit back down, attempting to get back to work. And despite my mind’s protests, I can’t seem to keep from thinking back to the small stack of brown paper packages on the dresser in my room. The packages I’ve refused to open.
Five minutes later of doing nothing, I groan, heave my body up from my seat, and sneak into my bedroom. Why I’m sneaking when no one else is home, I don’t know, but some part of me feels as if opening these packages will be like opening another can of worms.
“I’m just going to see what they are, and then I’ll put them away,” I tell myself as my grubby little fingers pull apart the paper on the first one.
Ten minutes and four packages later, I’m sitting on my bedroom floor, my eyes burning from holding back tears and feelings of deep regret for what I said to Reeve last night. These things couldn’t be further from buying my affection.
“Fuck,” I say as I eye the framed photo of us in Edinburgh that we took one night in secret. A page of music notes sits below a song title called “Never Now.” No lyrics accompany it, so I can’t tell what the title means, yet I have to assume he wrote it for me. Finally, a set of acrylic paints, which I had mentioned in passing to Reeve months before we got together, is tied up with brushes in pink ribbon.
It’s a gift about us. Our story. His music, my painting, our pictures. He’s telling me our story in his own way; I’m just not so sure I’m ready to listen without falling apart.
“Well fuck, I don’t even know how to read music,” I blubber to myself as I try to decipher the notes, knowing full well the attempt won’t take me anywhere. I almost laugh at the thought of how this must look. It’s like a bad scene out of Bridget Jones, a scene I no longer want to be in.
“So, we’ve all been patient,” Lottie tells us, her hand resting upon her bump that is outlined in a skintight black dress. She looks like a fucking boss.
I take a sip of my drink, attempting to prepare for the line of questioning. Saint Street is starting to fill up, the three of us waiting for the guys’ band to go on.
“Lottie,” Stana says, shooting daggers at her cousin. Lottie, being Lottie, brushes it off and I laugh, despite knowing what this will probably be about.
“We’ve acted normal, pretended the last few months haven’t happened, but it’s killing me, Em. What the fuck is going on between you two? And don’t think I didn’t notice him leaving right after you last night.”
I feel myself blushing, but I don’t hide it. “I’m confused,” I admit.
The girls both move forward, curious.
“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. When I’m alone, I manage to convince myself I don’t need him, but then when I’m with him, the thought of not being with him hurts me physically.” I take a sip, actually more like a gulp of my wine. Stana’s hands are wrapped around her glass while Lottie eyes her water with distaste.
“So be with him!” Stana says, her eyes hopeful.
“It’s not that easy,” I reply. “He really hurt me. I don’t know if I can trust him. What if him thinking he loved me was just a fling? What if it was fleeting and it goes away?”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen, love,” Lottie tells me, placing her hand over my own. “I’m not one to take the side of a man, but I think his actions show he’s in it for real.”
I’m about to respond when the guys saunter on the stage, our conversation ended by the cheers.
Ali starts them off, singing a rendition of “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac. I know the lyrics are probably dedicated to Stana, but my mind won’t shut off that the lyrics fit my situation with Reeve.
After the song ends, Reeve moves to the front of the stage, Ali strumming guitar chords I’m unfamiliar with, Owen slowly coming in on the drums. I don’t need to be told to know Reeve will soon start to sing, so I mentally tune it out, not wanting to hear him. I’d pull out my mobile, but I’m not that much of a prick.
Around halfway through the song, Stana harshly nudges my side, tilting her head toward the stage. Pulled out of my self-imposed silent trance, I finally hear Reeve’s lyrics, the bottom of my stomach hollowing out at each word.
I lived a time away from you
In hopes our love would grow
Come back to me now again
Like only you will know
Forget all the Nevers
Remember all the Nows
Moments I can’t take back
Never really knowing how
Not Never Now, it’s Always
I want you at my side
I think of all our moments
No longer will we hide
