Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

October 2015, Manhattan, New York

“I have a favor to ask you.”

“Of course you do.” Evelyn sighed, cradling her phone against her shoulder as she picked up her mug of tea. “Go on,” she said, wandering over to the couch.

“This weekend,” Sophie said, “Miles has a gallery show and an exhibit at a museum. I think I told you?”

“You didn’t,” Evelyn said, “but go on.” She curled up on the couch, letting her gaze slide over to the window as the autumn evening fell, casting golden light into her apartment and deepening the shadows. She was eager for night to come; she had run errands in the city for most of the day and her body ached for stillness and quiet, which the dark always seemed to bring—nighttime didn’t exactly shut out the sounds of horns honking and sirens wailing, but it softened them.

“He was supposed to stay with a friend but then the heat broke in the apartment, so that guy can’t even stay at his home right now. And Miles asked around but no one else has room for him to stay. So, we—I—was wondering if—”

“You want to know if he can stay with me?” A twinge in Evelyn’s stomach registered her unease before her mind did.

“Please, Evelyn,” Sophie said, her voice breathless. “He really can’t miss these events.” Evelyn heard a faint clatter through the line, and Sophie cursed under her breath.

“Why can’t he get a hotel? Also, what are you doing?”

“I’m stacking firewood,” Sophie said. “And I just got a huge splinter in my finger.” She paused, and Evelyn waited. “Got it,” she said after a moment. “It’s gotten so cold here. Last winter was brutal. I want to be prepared.”

“Sophie. A hotel?”

“Oh,” she said, as if she’d hoped to avoid the question. “We just...we can’t really afford it right now. Money’s tight from all the repairs to the cabin. We found a bunch of issues last winter that we have to fix before it snows again. It’s, uh, a rapidly approaching deadline.”

Evelyn wanted to ask Sophie about the money situation, but kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t as if she had any to spare herself. She swallowed her concern and forced herself to sound neutral. “Okay. He can stay here.”

The relief in Sophie’s voice was obvious. “Oh, thank you so much. Seriously. You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s no problem. I’ve got a perfectly fine couch.”

“Well, still. We really, really appreciate it.”

We. It was strange to hear Sophie refer to herself and Miles as a unit, although Evelyn knew that was exactly what they were. She ran her finger over the gray fabric covering the couch’s arm. “What’s the exhibit?”

“I don’t know all the details,” Sophie said. “It’s called... Wild America . Some new museum, I think. I guess the gallery show is related. Look, you know I’ve always been bad about keeping up with his art. I do know he’ll be there Thursday night to Sunday, at the latest.”

Evelyn grimaced. She hadn’t shared her space with anyone for that long since sophomore year of college. Still, she felt an unexpected flash of pride for Miles. Maybe a little success would bring some money that he and Sophie seemed to need.

Evelyn said goodbye to Sophie and hung up. Three more days before Miles arrived. At least the apartment wasn’t a mess; she cleaned religiously, three times a week, though she rarely welcomed visitors—a few friends for dinner, occasionally, but those were relaxed affairs for the sole purpose of commiseration about work. Expect the unexpected , her mother always said, and that translated into Evelyn having an apartment clean enough to welcome a dignitary at any given moment.

She had no idea what Miles expected but hoped she would remember to turn on the lights.

She got home late on Thursday. Miles waited in the lobby, forlorn and out of place. He wore a green shirt that had seen better days and pants that looked like they’d been on one too many river runs. She approached him, apologizing for making him wait, but he shook his head and wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a haphazard hug.

“Evelyn. It’s good to see you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you for letting me stay here.”

His affection surprised her. She pulled back, appraising him up close. “You look tired. Bad trip?”

“No,” he replied, gathering his bags and following her to the elevator. “Just a lot of days on no sleep. All I can say is, never buy a house.”

“That bad?” she asked, pushing the button for the sixth floor.

“No. It’s great, honestly. Well, you’ve seen the cabin. Those woods and that creek are priceless. Forty-minute drive to town, which isn’t bad unless there’s snow. Honestly, that property is worth a hell of a lot more than the house is. Some millionaire could buy it, raze the cabin and a few trees, and build a big old log cabin mansion. I’ve found they tend to prefer open land, though. Gotta let everyone else around know how rich you are by plunking down a massive house visible from the road,” he said with a grin. “I like being in the woods. I don’t have to look at them and they don’t have to look at me. The way it should be. But—oh, right,” he continued, as if just remembering her question, “it’s a lot of work. Nearly every damn part of that house has had to be fixed, and as soon as I get done with a repair, something else breaks. It’s like caring for an elderly parent who just isn’t ready to go yet. Always sick, but full of great stories.”

As they stepped out of the elevator, Evelyn thought back to the wedding and the broken pipe that had delayed Miles’s arrival in Colorado. “I admit, before I visited, I was curious about where you were living, so I looked at houses for sale near there. I was shocked. Everything was over a million dollars.” She fumbled with her key ring, unlocking her apartment door. “I can’t complain about renting. I don’t have to fix anything.”

He followed her inside. “Yeah, we got lucky. That guy I used to kayak with in Washington, Ron, owned it. I’m sure Sophie told you about him. That place I had near Seattle, I rented it from him. When I got the job offer in Wyoming, he told me about a place he owned out there too. Said he hadn’t visited in years, had no idea what shape it was in. But he wanted it gone and was willing to let me have it for dirt cheap. I think I was like a son he never had.” He paused. “I feel like I just keep getting lucky. Meeting Sophie, the house, my art—I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Some people are just like that,” Evelyn replied, circling the counter. “Lucky, I mean. Do you want coffee?” She had been up since 5:30 a.m., and now that she was home, the wave of exhaustion finally broke. If she was going to entertain a guest as talkative as Miles, she needed to stay awake.

“Sure.”

“How is Sophie?”

“She’s good. Busy. I think she’s made friends with every single person in the park. She feels bad about missing out on some of this climbing season, but she never stops talking about your trip. She’ll be guiding backcountry skiing and snowshoeing this winter. She really wants you to come out soon.”

Annoyance flashed through Evelyn. She had spent all summer with Sophie, successfully summiting K2. They climbed Broad Peak after, though Evelyn felt it was a drag in comparison, with little technical climbing. The challenge of Broad Peak came in the remoteness—K2 had been fairly crowded with other teams hoping to conquer the savage mountain. But on Broad Peak there was only one other team, some French climbers who seemed determined to keep their distance from the sisters. Evelyn spent too much time worrying about the logistics of getting help in an emergency, and Sophie would remind her that their fate was in the hands of the mountain. Simple. Sophie seemed to have a better relationship with her own mortality than Evelyn could ever hope for, yet another thing she didn’t struggle with. When the sisters flew back to New York, they’d gotten matching tattoos of K2, the sharp pyramid with its distinct furrows and ridges finding a place on each sister’s arm, Sophie’s right, Evelyn’s left. She touched the tattoo often, tracing the outline of the mountain and reminding herself that she would always find a way back to climbing, even when she felt trapped by the city’s claws.

And all that time—it wasn’t enough? Evelyn knew she was swimming against the current, trying to maintain her relationships with friends and family and the mountains, in a place that forced her into ever-greater isolation. Not to mention work. Sophie didn’t see it that way. Ever since she’d moved to Wyoming with Miles, time had seemed infinite to Sophie, a great stretch of future that involved only climbing and friends and seeing the world.

Evelyn took a steadying breath, trying to release her bitterness as she poured a cup of coffee for Miles. “I’m sorry. I really do want to visit. It’s just that—”

He waved a hand, dismissive. “You’re a lawyer. No one expects you to have free time.”

“I still feel lucky that I got hired by my firm. But it’s been pretty much nonstop since day one. A lot of stress.” She shook her head. “Shocking, right? I’m complaining that work feels like work.”

“I bet it’s nice sometimes. Honestly. Having so much structure to your days. I miss that part of college. I mean, I wasn’t the best at staying on track. But at least I had classes at scheduled times. Now it’s all up to me, and I’m not the best at managing my time. It’s hard, when your backyard is full of rivers.”

Evelyn blinked. “You went to college?”

He grinned. “Don’t look so surprised. It was art school. I’m still an idiot.”

“No, it’s just that Sophie never mentioned it. I assumed you had a similar lifestyle. You know, foregoing the standard path for an outdoorsy one.” She paused. “I hope I don’t sound pretentious. I envy Sophie sometimes.”

“No, no way in hell my parents would have let me just disappear to kayak. Letting me go to art school was enough of a concession. But I got a full ride, so they couldn’t say no.”

Evelyn thought of how much happier her mother would be if Sophie had finished college. “Wow. That’s impressive. No wonder you’re such a good painter.”

He shrugged. “I guess so. I did learn a lot. But to be fair, I spent most of my free time in an inebriated haze. I think it would have been worse if I hadn’t gone to school, honestly. No discipline at all, spending all day running rivers? I would have been homeless within a few weeks.” He paused, took a sip of coffee, and glanced at her. “I have to ask. Do you always keep the lights off, or just for guests?”

Evelyn’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m awful about turning the lights on. I didn’t even notice.” She moved to pass by him, heading for the light switch near the door, but he caught her arm. The gesture surprised her, and she stopped.

“Don’t. It’s nice, honestly. I’m getting used to it.”

She stepped back as he let go, still embarrassed. “It’s a habit I’ve picked up. The city is so overwhelming. I feel like keeping the apartment dark helps to seal in as much of the peace and quiet as possible.”

“I’d say that’s a good reason. We all develop weird habits in our private spaces anyway.”

She had never thought of her apartment as a private space , mostly because living in the city felt like sharing her apartment with everyone else in the building, plus everyone walking by on the street outside, and—why not—everyone in the apartment building across from her too. She liked to drink tea in the evenings by the living room window, watching the city light up as the sunlight faded. Law school had turned her partially nocturnal; all her life, she had been a morning person, but as the assignments piled up, she found herself staying up later and later. Sometimes she wished she had Sophie’s ability to compartmentalize. For Evelyn, it was all or nothing; she wouldn’t rest until all her work was accomplished and as close to perfect as possible. She always felt close to burnout but hadn’t tipped over the edge. Yet.

She glanced away from Miles, self-conscious of how much she had just revealed about herself. He had called it weird . She cleared her throat. “Would you like to grab dinner? I haven’t eaten yet.”

He straightened up, shaking his head. “Sorry, I can’t. I gotta run down to the gallery tonight and I’m not sure how long it’ll take. Then the museum in the morning, I think. Lunch tomorrow?”

“I’ll be at work, and I can’t bet on being able to take that long a break.” She paused, then surprised herself. “But I’d like to come to the gallery opening. It’s tomorrow night, right?”

He nodded. “Seven o’clock to 9:00. You don’t have to come for the whole thing, obviously. But it would be nice of you to stop by.”

“Of course. I can take some pictures for Sophie. Is it like...” She trailed off, searching for the word. “An expensive gallery? Should I dress nice?”

Miles grinned. “Yeah, maybe don’t show up in jeans. The museum on Saturday is black tie. I’m not looking forward to that.” He stretched, extending his arms above his head. “I should get going. I’ll be back pretty late, so I’ll try to be quiet coming in.”

Evelyn pushed off the counter and opened one of the drawers. “Here’s the spare key. Just tell the doorman you’re staying with me if he asks. He’s kind of nosy.”

“Yeah, he was really staring me down earlier. I told him I was waiting for you, but he seemed suspicious.”

Evelyn shrugged. “Like I said, he’s nosy. It’s his job. Anyway, make yourself comfortable. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

As soon as Miles left, she exhaled. When had he become so easy to talk to? She had expected him to be dismissive and arrogant. But he seemed different now, more relaxed, with those startling green eyes always trained on her, and a willingness to listen to her, even if they’d mostly discussed his life. Often, she liked not being the center of attention, not having to dredge up some interesting information about herself to appease someone else. Beyond the mountains and her job, Evelyn considered herself a void, nothing worth noting. Luckily, those two topics were all anyone ever seemed to care about.

She set about straightening up the kitchen and then turned on one of the lights underneath the hanging cabinets, so he wouldn’t come back to total darkness. She sat down at her desk and surrounded herself with work until her thoughts of Miles faded away.

The next evening, Evelyn sat on the 4 train, closing her eyes as the car swayed around her, lulled almost to sleep. She was exhausted and looking forward to sleeping in for an extra hour tomorrow and hitting the gym before another day spent glued to her desk. Or maybe she would go for a run in Central Park. The weather forecast promised a crisp day, and the leaves in the park were starting to turn now that it was October.

After returning home, Evelyn had eaten a quick dinner and stepped into a little black dress. She hadn’t spoken to Miles yet that day, although he had been asleep on the couch when she woke up that morning. She had tiptoed past him into the kitchen, forcing down black coffee and heading out the door.

She got off the subway and walked a block to the gallery, housed on three floors of a bright, modern building with floor-to-ceiling windows. She checked her coat at the door and wandered in, surprised at the number of people. She took an hors d’oeuvre, a little toasted piece of bread adorned with a stuffed squash blossom, from a passing waiter. The severity of the gallery—sheer white walls and glowing white light—combined with the number of people overwhelmed her. She fell in step behind a couple, following their path through the gallery as they parted the sea of people.

She spotted Miles’s paintings as soon as she rounded the corner to the last room. The two massive landscapes took up the back wall, and though she knew there was art all around her, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. She had only seen his finished works in photos before, pictures that Sophie sent of Miles painting on the back porch in the dead of winter, bundled in a coat stained with a rainbow of colors.

It was different, seeing the paintings in person; their sheer size arrested her. A man coughed behind her and she stepped aside, still drifting forward. Painting a river was no revolutionary act, but these were different—neither of these rivers wandered through a bucolic meadow with banks choked by flowering trees. No, both of these rivers were fierce—deadly, even—cutting through gorges in winter, snow falling through the foreground in one and in the other, complete stillness, the lack of any movement in the white landscape except for the tumbling river overflowing its banks. The mountains in the distance were gray at the bottom, losing their snow. She stood for a long time in the center of the room, breathing, trying to understand why she was so awestruck. She missed the wilderness, perhaps. The starkness captured her mind the same way the world’s biggest mountains did—at the core of it, she wanted to be alone, and if she could have stepped through the painting into that desolate, hostile landscape, she would have.

Eventually, she spotted Miles off to the side, engrossed in conversation with an older couple. The man was gesturing at the closest painting while the woman’s eyes moved slowly over it, studying. Evelyn was thankful that he was occupied. She turned away and moved against the flow of the crowd toward the door, wondering if anyone else would have the same reaction when they got to that final room: overpowered, rendered still. She didn’t like that Miles had done this to her—his brain, his hands. As she stepped into the cool air outside, she felt her phone buzz in her coat pocket. It was a text from Sophie, asking if she had gone to the gallery opening. She texted back— I’m just leaving now. It was great! Beautiful paintings. But you know that. Her phone buzzed again as she slipped it back into her pocket, but she didn’t bother to read Sophie’s reply. She was already beginning to feel guilty, and not just because she had forgotten to take any pictures.

Evelyn couldn’t sleep that night. She stayed up reading about a case for one of the partners at her firm—some complicated assault that was possibly self-defense but also possibly a calculated attack. She couldn’t figure out how to spin it. Whenever she opened one of the big law books, she saw rivers tumbling over the pages. Progress was slow, but she managed a page of research notes. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a knock on the door.

She let out a shaky breath, realizing it must be Miles, although she hadn’t heard the front door open. “Come in?”

The door opened slowly as she swiveled in her chair to face it. There was Miles, still in his suit pants and white shirt. He had turned on a light in the hall, backlit now due to the darkness in her room. “Sorry,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the light. “I didn’t want to do too much fumbling.”

“It’s fine,” Evelyn replied, reaching across her desk to switch on a rarely used lamp. She had been working by the light of her laptop screen alone. “Do you need something?”

He shook his head. “It’s occurring to me now that you’re probably busy. I just wanted to say thank you for coming to the gallery. I saw you, but those people I was talking to are collectors. They were interested in one of the paintings and I didn’t want to let them get away.” He leaned against the doorframe and Evelyn’s heart sped up. “I think I’ll be getting a nice check soon.”

“Wow, congratulations.”

He shrugged, straightening up. “It’s hard not to have imposter syndrome. Like, does my art really belong in some rich couple’s apartment? I don’t know. They’ll probably slap it in a cabin up north. It’s not really apartment art.” He took a small step back, as if conscious of overstaying his welcome. Evelyn tried to ignore how badly she wanted him to cross the threshold, to keep her company. “I’ll get out of your hair. Just wanted to say thanks in case you thought I didn’t see you. I did.”

“Wait!” she said, immediately embarrassed by the desperation in her voice. “If you’re not going to sleep yet, I was going to make coffee.”

He checked his watch. It was after 11:00, and though Evelyn usually didn’t drink coffee so late, she knew she wouldn’t sleep much tonight anyway. “Sure,” Miles replied, “why not.”

Twenty minutes later they sat at opposite ends of the couch, each holding a mug of coffee and neither doing much talking. Miles’s gaze drifted over the bare walls of her living room, probably wondering how someone could live in such emptiness. Evelyn wanted to apologize on behalf of her poor interior design capabilities, but she stayed quiet. She had turned on a lamp in one corner of the room, and now each object cast an unfamiliar shadow. She felt like a visitor in her own home, everything made new by his presence.

“I really do like your art,” she said. “It’s... I don’t know how to describe it. When I walked into that gallery room, I felt like I’d stepped into a different world. Familiar and strange all at once. I wanted to walk right into those paintings and feel the rivers run.”

He raised his eyebrows, a small smile on his lips. “Thank you. Rivers should be moving, right? Not meant to be still.”

Evelyn didn’t know how to respond. She felt she had unintentionally revealed something about herself to him. She opened her mouth to speak but found no words. The smile fell from his lips, and he turned his head to look out the window. A silence passed between them.

“Do you like living here?” he asked, without looking at her.

“Oh...the city? Most of the time I don’t.” She answered honestly—no reason to withhold her emotions from him the way she did from her mother and Sophie, always lying and telling them she was happy. She didn’t want them to worry. “It’s hard to live somewhere so—man-made. I miss the mountains every single day.”

Now he looked at her directly. “I’ve asked Sophie about moving, but that’s what she always says. That she would miss the mountains too much. But it’s hard to be a struggling artist in Wyoming. There are so many more opportunities here. When I was at school, I didn’t miss the wilderness.”

She considered this and laughed. “I think it would be cruel to take Sophie away from nature. Like taking a wild animal from its native habitat. She complained so much in Seattle. I don’t think she’ll ever go back to a city.” Evelyn knew that moving was a reoccurring argument between Sophie and Miles. There was no point in giving him false hope about Sophie’s willingness to leave the mountains.

“You’re probably right.” He exhaled and glanced away. “I think that I need to come to the city for a while. I just don’t know if Sophie can handle the cabin alone.”

“She’s more capable than you think.”

“But she doesn’t pay attention. If something starts to break, she doesn’t notice until it’s unusable. And half the time she doesn’t seem to care. She always says, ‘we can work around it,’ or, ‘we can just save up to replace it.’ But that’s not how it works. The whole cabin needs to be replaced. Right now, I’m trying to fix as much of it as possible.”

Evelyn blinked. He seemed legitimately angry, which surprised her. She sensed a deeper undercurrent of hurt running through his words. “She can be...I hate to say it, but an airhead sometimes.”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “We don’t need to discuss her flaws.”

“You’re right. I just meant...” What? Did you want to imply that you’re superior to Sophie in some way, because you would notice a leaky faucet? She chastised herself. “You’re welcome to stay here again if you need to come to the city.”

He seemed to consider the offer for a long time. “That’s incredibly generous. I do have other friends in the city. But maybe, if they get tired of my begging, I’ll come back.”

She tried to hide her disappointment. The more time she spent with him, the more she liked his company. She had spent little time with him like this before, detached from Sophie. He was a different person without her around. She wondered whose fault that was.

They fell back into conversation, about kayaking and climbing and his inspirations for his paintings. When Evelyn checked the time on her phone, it was well past midnight, and she sat up with a small gasp. “Oh, my god. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“Does it matter?”

“Kind of.” She looked up, apologetic. “I usually get up at six on Saturdays for the gym, and then work all day. And I didn’t get as far as I wanted to tonight. I mean, I figured I would be up until three anyway. But now—you get the point. I’d be up all night.”

“Maybe you should just go to sleep and try tackling tomorrow fully rested. Easier said than done, I know. I’m a bit of an insomniac myself,” he said with a shrug.

“Me too,” she said. “If you have any issues sleeping, becoming a lawyer will steamroll you into a full-blown insomniac.”

“I don’t want to keep you. You should get back to work, or to sleep. But, Evelyn?”

“Yes?”

“You should come to the museum tomorrow.”

“I could. I think. I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon, but it will be over by—what time?”

“Five o’clock. There’s a dinner after; I’m not sure I can get away with bringing a guest. But for the exhibit, sure.”

She calculated the time in her head—committee meeting at 4:00, no way she could show up in a gown. She’d have to come back across town to change, then to the museum—it wouldn’t work. She would skip the meeting. Tell them she got sick. “I’ll come.”

“Great. We can head there together.”

She stood up, feeling uneasy. “Thanks, Miles. And good night.”

She took the mug from his extended hand and set it in the kitchen sink beside her own. She could feel his eyes on her back, but when she turned around, he wasn’t looking. Glass of water in hand, she retreated to her bedroom. The pile of work on her desk caught her off guard. She rarely left things in such a state of disarray—one of her favorite rituals was cleaning up before bed, to visually signify that her work for the day was finished. Now she couldn’t hide from the fact that she had abandoned her work to spend time with Miles.

He was gone when she woke up the next morning. She skipped the gym and stretched instead, unrolling a yoga mat next to her bed. After breakfast she got to work, reviewing materials for her cases until her head spun. The challenge of crafting defenses still thrilled her, but the amount of work was staggering—she suspected that a lot of other people must feel the same way and emerge on the other side of law school not knowing if they even wanted to practice. She had pushed through, passed the bar, joined the firm of one of the city’s best defense attorneys. Everything she had worked so hard for had fallen into place, yet sometimes she found herself staring out the window of her office or her bedroom, her mind blank, and it took enormous effort to focus again, as if her brain was protesting the task at hand. That feeling must go away , she thought. Or for me it will. Evelyn wanted to be a lawyer. She had been so certain.

By 3:00 Miles still hadn’t returned. Evelyn riffled through her closet and pulled out a long black dress; she had only invested in it because once a year, the Columbia student law society had held a formal charity ball to raise money for a cause in the city. She put on the dress and looked at herself in the mirror, at her pale skin and dark brown hair falling down her back. She was tall and imposing in heels.

The front door opened and she felt a wave of embarrassment for scrutinizing herself in the mirror. She was about to change when she heard a knock on the bedroom door. “Coming,” she said, and opened the door. Miles wore running shorts and a T-shirt and looked slightly disheveled.

“Wow. You look great.” He glanced down at his clothes and then back up at her. “Well, I’m dressed and ready to go, too.”

“I wasn’t—sorry, I wasn’t getting ready yet. Just trying this dress on to make sure it still fits.”

“It does,” he said, and then, “You apologize too much.”

“I know. You’ll never believe who’s told me that before.” She ran a hand over the dress, self-conscious. “I just didn’t want you to think I was ready to leave without you.”

He shrugged. “I went for a run and got very distracted. Ended up getting lunch with some old friends in Brooklyn. But here I am.”

Evelyn couldn’t conjure a response. He was so close, his face inches from hers, and she was aware of how easily she could reach out and touch him—worse, she suspected he wouldn’t move away. Her heart was in her throat, suspended in time, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. She swallowed hard and ran her fingers along the doorframe.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” he said, breaking the silence. “Whatever it is. Wearing a nice dress. Being impossibly smart. You know, the kind of things you do.”

She realized he was gesturing to the pile of work on the desk, which hadn’t changed much from the day before. “Oh. That’s tomorrow’s problem.”

He nodded and stepped away. She closed the door and let out a breath. What am I doing? She couldn’t deny it anymore. She was attracted to him. And unless her mind was playing tricks on her, the attraction was reciprocated. But she didn’t know him well—maybe he was always like this, a little flirty, intense. That had to be why Sophie had fallen for him. Sophie. She remembered her sister with a jolt and felt sick. She wasn’t thinking straight. She changed clothes and sat in bed, trying to meditate, to do anything to escape her thoughts, but the peace would not come.

When she emerged into the living room, Miles stared at her. It was the reaction she had secretly hoped for, as she had curled her hair and done her makeup for the first time in months. It wasn’t entirely for him—she told herself—it was an important event; she didn’t want to look out of place. But she also desired attention. And now she had it, his eyes traveling over her body in a way that she could feel.

“You look nice,” she said, to diffuse some of the tension. He wore a black tux, and he looked the most groomed she had ever seen him—hair swept back and beard trimmed short, less the wild man of the mountains and more the dignified artist. She liked him better this way. She suspected Sophie felt the opposite, and felt superior just for a moment, for appreciating Miles in a way that Sophie did not. Besides, what harm was there in relishing her attraction to him for a moment—he would be gone tomorrow afternoon and it would be months before she saw him again. She would make a trip to Wyoming next summer, maybe, and then Sophie would be by his side. Maybe in the meantime she would dust off her dating apps and try again. But for now, no harm in noticing the man in front of her.

“You look amazing, Evelyn. I already told you that.” He stood up and gestured to the door. “We should go. Might be good to be a little early.”

They didn’t speak much on the way to the museum. Miles paid for an Uber that cut across the city, taking them to the Art Museum of the Americas. It was a newer museum, one she hadn’t visited before, in an old, imposing brick building. People milled outside in tuxedos and evening gowns, and Evelyn felt wary as she stepped out of the car. She had attended highbrow events during law school, but this was another level.

She felt Miles’s presence by her side and glanced up at him as he slipped his arm into hers. “Come on,” he said, “you’ll be fine,” as if sensing her apprehension. She fell into step with him, aware every second of his arm brushing against hers. Together they walked up the grand staircase leading into the building. Inside, the lights were bright, the lobby crowded with people in enthusiastic conversation.

Miles cut a path through the crowd and stopped outside an exhibit room. The security guard looked at him, impassive, until Miles pulled his ID from his wallet and showed it to the guard. He took Evelyn’s arm again as they stepped around the red velvet rope and into the relative silence of the exhibit room. Only a few people milled about, and she sensed that these were the most important people present, museum curators and benefactors and the other artists. Beside her, Miles let out a breath.

“It’s a bit better in here, yeah? These events get so overwhelming.”

She blinked. “Isn’t this your first museum show?”

“Yeah. But I’ve done galleries before. Like last night. It’s just talking, talking, talking. I get a headache.”

He unlinked his arm and turned to face her, but she looked past him. “Your paintings. Wow.” A series of four paintings were mounted on the wall opposite her—the same river, she realized, in four seasons, rushing wild in the spring, relatively still in summer, reflecting orange and yellow leaves in fall, and bleak in the winter, almost overpowered by the snow. Along the banks of the river, an eerie old house decomposed across the seasons. In the summertime, a fly-fisher waded through the calm water. “Do you often include people?”

He followed her gaze. “No. There usually aren’t any, where I paint. But that day there was a man fly-fishing. He told me he’d hiked eighteen miles that day to reach the river and that he would camp in the area and fish all weekend. He made the trip with his dad every summer until his dad couldn’t anymore, and now he makes the trip in his memory. I thought that was worth capturing.” He paused, smiled. “Although I suspect the presence of humans might have helped me get into this exhibit. The curators always like a commentary on American society, no matter how small.”

Before she could respond, someone spoke behind them. “Excuse me—Miles Greene?”

Miles stepped around her. “Tulliano. I’m glad to see you. Thank you, again.”

Evelyn turned to see a small, elderly man. He patted Miles on the back, smiling up at him. “My pleasure. Without your art this exhibit would be incomplete.” He paused, his gaze drifting to Evelyn. “Your wife?”

Evelyn opened her mouth to respond, but Miles spoke first. “Yes. Evelyn, this is Tulliano Mastel. He’s one of the museum curators. We’ve known each other for a few years now, and Tulliano fought tooth and nail to get my paintings on display here.”

Tulliano shook his head. “It didn’t require much of a fight. I simply put your work on their radar.” He stepped back and gave a small nod. “I must make rounds. I’ll see you at dinner, if not before then.”

As soon as he stepped away, Evelyn touched Miles’s arm and hissed, “Your wife?”

“What?” Miles said, grinning. “He’s old. I didn’t want to explain that no, you’re my wife’s sister. It would confuse him.”

“So what if he tells people that you’re here with your wife?”

The smile on his face fell away. “Evelyn. It’s one night. Just have fun.” He paused. “If it makes you feel better, no one here has met Sophie.”

She considered for a moment, then nodded, although she was feeling unsure about his idea of fun. What if they meet Sophie in the future? She and Sophie had only a vague sisterly resemblance—the same narrow noses and hazel eyes, but Evelyn had dark, thick hair while Sophie’s was dirty blond. And Evelyn’s facial features were sharp—defined cheekbones and a jaw to match. Sophie had a round, seemingly permanent baby face. The two couldn’t pass for each other in a million years.

She let go of her reservations and continued around the exhibit at Miles’s side. It wasn’t her problem to worry about; any burden of explanation would fall on Miles. And a pleasantly warm feeling rose in her chest every time someone guessed that she was Miles’s wife—it only happened a few more times, but each time she allowed herself to smile a little wider and nod a bit more enthusiastically. Yes, we’re married, yes, my husband is so talented. She drank three glasses of champagne and let herself slip fully into the fantasy.

“You seem like you’re enjoying yourself,” Miles said, guiding her off to the side. The exhibit opening was winding down; a good number of people had headed off into the night, although a small crowd lingered, the people Evelyn guessed were invited to dinner.

“I haven’t...” she said, and then paused, trying to find the right words. “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time. Well, I’ve never been to an exhibit opening like this. But what I mean is—I haven’t been on anything resembling a date in a long time. Not that this is a date,” she added quickly.

“You could call it that,” he replied, unperturbed. “I wish I could bring you to dinner. You’re good company.”

She could have kissed him right there, in front of all the people. No one would have been the wiser. But she just watched him for a moment, and he seemed to be studying her, too, as if he had something to say but was afraid to ask it.

“Well,” he said finally. “I think I have a dinner to catch.”

“Yeah. Don’t let it run away from you.”

“Funny,” he said. “Will you be awake when I get back?”

“Probably. I have work to do. I’m behind.”

He nodded. “I hope that’s not my fault.” To her surprise, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you later. Have a safe trip home.”

She went out into the cool night, the heat of his skin still lingering on hers.

She hadn’t planned it, or even expected it, but when he came home around midnight she was curled up on the couch, filling out paperwork and drinking coffee to stay awake. They exchanged no words, not even a we shouldn’t , and later, that was what Evelyn regretted the most. That she hadn’t even tried to stop it. All she knew was that somehow, their bodies were drawn to each other, and then they were kissing, and then they were in her bed. The lights off, as always, nothing but darkness surrounding her.

After, lying beside each other, Evelyn tried not to have a panic attack. She measured her breathing even when tears began to stream down her face, when she realized the inevitable consequences of what she had done. She had to tell Sophie.

“You can’t tell Sophie.”

She shifted to look at him, bewildered by how he seemed to have read her mind. “We have to.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, she doesn’t need to know. This won’t ever happen again, okay?”

She couldn’t bring herself to respond for a long moment. He was right; Sophie didn’t need to know and would never find out if they didn’t tell her. “It’s cruel,” she said finally.

“Then why did you do it?”

She exhaled sharply, almost a laugh. “Why did you?”

“What do you want me to say? I’m attracted to you,” he said. “You’re charming and intelligent. Passionate.”

“And Sophie isn’t those things?”

“Please, don’t bring her into this.”

“I don’t see how I can’t.” Evelyn paused, tension humming through her body. “You’ve done this before, right?”

“What?”

She had to force the words out. “Cheated on Sophie.”

He stood up, tossing the blanket over where he had lain just a moment before. “I don’t think this is a conversation we should have right now. Let’s just get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning. But this won’t happen again, so there’s no need to upset Sophie.” He paused. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And like that he was gone.

Alone in her bed, Evelyn wished for a crystal ball, or some other way to see the future. She kept reaching for her phone on her bedside table, and then pulling her hand away. The only person in the world she wanted to talk to was Sophie. She knew what Sophie would say, in a hypothetical situation where Evelyn had slept with some other woman’s husband. I can’t believe you’d do something like that; you’re not that kind of person, Evelyn. Didn’t you think of the pain you would cause? Sophie took love seriously. Evelyn felt like vomiting. She covered her eyes with her hands even though it was dark and groaned. Though morning would come, she knew the night would be long. There was no escaping her own heart.

Over the next several months, Evelyn kept telling herself that the next time would be the last. That each time Miles ended up in her bed, she would feel guilty enough to put a stop to it. It never worked. She knew about the lies he carefully constructed to Sophie—that he was at a friend’s apartment when he stayed with her, that he was busy with gallery events when he was taking Evelyn on extravagant dates. Sometimes the pressure nearly crushed her, and she almost picked up the phone and came clean. But all the while she was falling in love. She knew it and Miles must have, too, but still he didn’t let go. They were playing a game of chicken, pushing each other closer to the edge, and Evelyn thought she would be the first to cave. But it was Miles, eight months later in early summer, who confessed.

“I think I’m going to leave Sophie.”

Evelyn nearly dropped the plate she was holding. She was cleaning up after breakfast, just the two of them in her apartment. He had a flight to catch in a few hours. She opened her mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Evelyn. I’m in love with you. Even if you don’t feel the same, I think...I think it’s time to put an end to this. I can’t be with both of you.”

“And you’re...” Her throat was dry when she tried to swallow. “You’re choosing me?”

He regarded her for a moment, as if wary of answering the question. “Yes, if you want to put it that way. It’s not about you versus Sophie. She and I—we were never right for each other. We want different things, and while that didn’t feel insurmountable at first, it’s clear now that it’s not working. She’s not happy, and I wish I had met you first.”

Tears filled Evelyn’s eyes. “Are you going to tell her?”

“What does that mean?”

She set down the plate with a loud clatter. “Are you going to tell her that we’ve been seeing each other? Or just that things aren’t working out?”

“I—I intend to keep seeing you.”

It wasn’t a direct answer to her question but she knew what it meant. She stared down at the marble countertop, tracing the dark patterns with her eyes. It was too much, and she knew it. She should say no, tell him that it was over, that he couldn’t tell Sophie anything. Then she could spend the rest of her life trying to reset her karma, as Sophie would say. But there was something else in the back of her mind, a voice not unlike her own that told her that it wouldn’t matter.

“Do you want to move here? Move in with me?”

It was his turn to look surprised. “I didn’t think you’d want that. I know you like having your own space.”

“You do too,” she countered. “We’re on basically opposite schedules. Were you thinking of staying in Wyoming?”

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, I’ll keep the cabin. I don’t know what I thought I’d do. I hadn’t really gotten that far. Couch surf for a while. I wasn’t going to ask—”

“Well, you didn’t have to,” Evelyn said, cutting him off. Anger and sadness flooded her veins, though she couldn’t pinpoint the cause. She felt out of control, as if someone else held the puppet strings of her life. Taking back the power, inviting Miles to live with her, didn’t help. She wished she could look at him without seeing both the person she loved and the worst mistake she’d ever made.

Miles’s expression softened, as if he sensed her surging emotions. “I know this isn’t going to be easy. But I have to leave her. I can’t stay in a relationship that’s so clearly run its course. And I can’t stay if you’re in the picture.”

Evelyn looked at him a moment longer and felt her brain zoom out, racing back through the years to childhood. She thought of everything Sophie had taken from her—their mother’s attention, skiing, rock climbing, mountaineering—everything shared. Nothing ever hers alone. It didn’t make her feel better to turn the tables, but remembering the past tempered some of the blow.

“Okay,” she said. “But we should have a game plan. I’ll fly out next weekend so we can tell her together, in person. It’s the right thing to do.”

Glass jars clunked as Evelyn set the grocery bags on the countertop. Her leg muscles ached with a vengeance and the couch beckoned to her, but she knew if she let herself sit, she’d fall asleep. She’d gone to the gym before the grocery store, set the stair-stepper to a high intensity and climbed. Anything to stop thinking about what had happened in Wyoming, the way Sophie had wailed when they told her. She had punched Evelyn, twice, before Miles had restrained her. The bruise around her eye had faded now, but for the past few days she had welcomed the physical reminder of her transgressions. As she’d driven away from the cabin, through the sad yellow grass weighed down by the lingering rain, she’d wondered if she’d ever see Sophie again.

The stove clock reminded Evelyn, with a jolt, that Miles’s flight was due to land almost two hours ago. Communication had been scarce since Evelyn had flown home, but she had expected that. He’d been quiet all weekend in Wyoming; but so had she. They’d hardly spoken after telling Sophie.

The bedroom down the hallway was empty. She leaned against the doorframe, contemplating the bed, wondering if just a little nap wouldn’t hurt. A knock on the front door made her flinch.

He must have lost his keys , she thought, heading to the door. She opened it to reveal her mother standing in the hallway.

“Hi, Evelyn.”

Evelyn took in the sight of her mother, disheveled from traveling, a backpack on her shoulders and a small suitcase by her side. She opened her mouth, closed her mouth, swallowed. Finally, she said, “What are you doing here?”

Her mother gazed at her. “I think you already know. Don’t start,” she continued, as Evelyn opened her mouth again. “First, invite me in.”

Evelyn stepped back so she could enter the apartment. “Are you staying here?”

“No. I booked a hotel. I knew you’d find some excuse to be busy or out of town if I told you I was coming. When was the last time you cleaned this place?”

Evelyn flushed. Everything about the apartment was orderly, but her mother had swiped a finger across the coffee table, revealing a fine layer of dust. “Before...” She couldn’t call it a trip, that sounded too much like a vacation. “Before we left.”

“Does he help you clean?”

“What?”

“Miles.” She sighed, setting down her backpack as she lowered onto the couch. She stared at Evelyn, her mouth set in a firm line, as if Evelyn were the one who had barged into her house and brought up cleaning.

“Yeah,” Evelyn replied. “Yes, of course he does, when he’s here.” She walked to the armchair that faced the couch, the one she never used, and sat in it, folding her feet in the chair’s lap. “Mom? What did you come here to say to me?”

She shook her head and turned to look out the window. “You’re always so direct. Did I raise you to be this way?” She paused. “I keep asking myself that. Did I raise you to be so cruel?”

Evelyn’s stomach dropped. “Mom. There’s more to the story.”

“Were you ever going to tell me? When Sophie called me, I thought something horrible had happened. She’d been injured or Miles had died or god-knows-what.” She exhaled, fixing her gaze back on Evelyn. “Not that this isn’t horrible. What were you thinking? I mean really, Evelyn. I’d love to know what made you think having an affair—with your sister’s husband—was a good idea.” She paused, and Evelyn realized her mother had started to cry.

She resisted the urge to point out that technically Miles had had an affair. “Sophie and Miles were clearly having problems.”

“And you made those problems worse.”

“So what? Should Sophie have been trapped in an unhappy marriage forever?” Evelyn knew she shouldn’t defend herself, but she couldn’t help it. Her skin felt prickly, her entire body on edge. She looked out the window to her right and wished she was one of the ant-like people below, scurrying about to some inconsequential errand.

“She was thinking about their relationship a lot. She didn’t tell you?”

This caught Evelyn’s attention. “No. She wanted a divorce?”

Her mother waved her hand. “No. Don’t start thinking you helped her in some way. She wanted counseling, but Miles said no. I wonder why.” She paused, letting the information sink in. “She was thinking about asking for a break. Admitting that she rushed into the wedding.”

“I tried to stop her.”

“We both did. But not very hard.” A silence passed between them. Evelyn’s mother worried the bracelet on her wrist. “I knew Miles was bad news.”

Evelyn waited a moment. “I can’t tell if you’re mad at him or me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I am livid at you. I don’t think I’ve ever been so mad.” She said this calmly, no longer crying, which made Evelyn’s heart jump to her throat. “I’ve struggled with what to say to you since—since Sophie told me. On the plane I realized I probably can’t do anything to convince you otherwise. You’ve always been stubborn.” A corner of her mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Maybe that was my mistake. I let you grow up too fast but didn’t teach you what being a grown-up meant.”

The air in the room felt heavy. Evelyn longed to get up and open a window, but the hum of the air conditioner reminded her that it was above eighty degrees outside, July’s humidity thick between the buildings. “What would you even want me to do?”

This made her laugh. “Stop seeing Miles, for one. Don’t you dare let that man move in here. And apologize to Sophie. Really. Beg for her forgiveness if you have to. I don’t think you realize what you’ve done.” There were tears in her eyes again. “I had to ask my friend Lori to stay with Sophie while I came here. She hasn’t gotten out of bed, has barely eaten anything. I was worried she’d...well. I worry too much sometimes.”

Evelyn looked down at her hands, interlocking her fingers. Her stomach turned at the thought of Sophie crying in bed. She wished Miles would come back, so she could remember why she’d gotten into the situation in the first place—why she was sitting in her apartment, visualizing Sophie’s devastation. But she didn’t need Miles to remember that it was her own fault.

“I don’t want to stop seeing Miles,” she said softly.

Her mother sighed, exasperated. “Then at least don’t let him move in here. Not yet.”

“I need help with rent,” Evelyn lied.

“Then let me help you.”

Evelyn’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. She stood up, thankful for a momentary diversion from the conversation. It was Miles, telling her his plane had landed.

“Miles will be here soon,” Evelyn said, leaning against the counter to face the living room.

“Are you asking me to leave?”

“I imagine you don’t want to see him.”

Her mother stood up, slowly. It struck Evelyn then how tired she looked, how far she had traveled to have this conversation. “I want you to think about something,” she said. “I want you to think about how you would feel if Sophie had done the same thing to you.”

Hasn’t she already? Evelyn wanted to say. But instead, she said, “I would be devastated. I would hate her.” She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I know I’ve done a cruel thing. You didn’t need to cross the country to tell me that.”

Her mother shook her head and walked to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. She half turned, as if she didn’t want to say what she knew came next.

“I’m going to have a hard time moving past this, Evelyn.”

A minute later Evelyn found herself staring at the shut door. It was as if her mother had disappeared, walked through the door to another plane of existence. Evelyn knew that soon enough the door would open again and Miles would appear this time. The universe as she understood it would fall back into place. But for the next hour she could be anything. A good person. A loyal sister. Someone worth loving. The thought was almost too much to bear.