17. Evangeline

SEVENTEEN

EVANGELINE

T he smart thing for me to do is to tell Zane, thanks but no thanks. Thanks for coming back into my life, but this is where we’re going to stop. Every voice in my head screams at me to pump the breaks, to not follow him down the hall where I know we can hide and make out. To cut him off and tell him he had his chance, and he lost it.

The magic of Christmas makes me believe we can be different this time. That he’s different. And while I want to believe in the fairy tale, part of me is scared that all of this sparkle is going to come crashing down around me and he’s going to go back to New York. Or he’s going to realize having the high society life, where money isn’t an object, is far better than living in this small town where the highlight of our Friday night is wrapping presents at the community center.

I love my life and there was a time when Zane wanted this life as well. I truly wonder if he’s ready for this. And I wonder if I’m ready or even willing to give it to him.

Kissing him is nice though. For so many years I put it out of my mind—what it felt like to be kissed by him; what it felt like to be in his presence. He’s always had an air about him. Strong and confident, but not arrogant. Growing up, people would comment on how well Bernie raised Zane, mostly as a single parent. Zane could’ve easily gone off the rails and become a menace, but he didn’t. He excelled in high school, as an undergrad, and then law school. He would’ve graduated the top of our class had he not left. His boss must have a lot of pull in order to get Zane’s last semester transferred so he could graduate in New York.

Did he graduate?

I look over my shoulder at Zane, standing in the large window looking out over Main Street. After we finished at the community center, we ordered a pizza to go, and stopped by the store to make sure his father didn’t need help closing up. The smile on Mr. Whitaker’s face when Zane walked in was brighter than a thousand bulbs. He is so happy his son is home. Can’t say I blame him.

Now, the empty pizza box sits on my counter, ready to go in the trash downstairs, and I stand at my stove, boiling water for hot cocoa while Christmas music plays from my portable speaker. I look at Zane again, and this time I catch him looking at my tree. It’s not a huge tree, but perfect for the space next to the other window. I don’t have a lot of ornaments on there, mostly white lights with red bows .

Once the kettle whistles, I add the water to the hot chocolate mixture my mom has mastered but refuses to give me the recipe for. Someday, she will. Her and my dad talk about selling the house and land, and retiring. The thought makes my stomach churn. I know the tree farm is a lot of work, but I can’t imagine not having it be part of my life.

“Here ya go.” I hand Zane the mug and then stand next to him. Main Street is beautiful at night. With two weeks to go until Christmas, the boutiques are open well past their normal closing hours to allow for those last-minute shoppers.

Each streetlight, a replica of early America, has garlands and white lights wrapped around it with a big red bow affixed to the lantern style light. The town does each pole the weekend after Thanksgiving. And when it snows, like it’s doing now, the magic of the holidays spreads cheer to all.

“It’s too bad these windows don’t open.”

“Why’s that?”

Zane points, forcing me to step forward and look down the road. Carolers are standing under the streetlight on the corner, and they look like they’re straight out of a Dickens novel.

“I think they performed at the community theater tonight,” I tell him. “But yes, it would be nice to listen to them. Do you want to go downstairs?”

Zane looks at me and shakes his head. “I’m very content right here.”

“Me too.” Besides, there will be ample time to hear them .

We sip our drinks in silence, watching the snow fall, the people outside, and listening to the music coming from my speaker.

“You know, when they renovated, they should’ve put the kitchen in the middle so your couch could be here.”

“I know. I would’ve definitely designed this differently had it been me. But I still love it.”

“Do you ever see yourself leaving?”

I give him a half shrug. “I’d love to own one of the houses on Monument Drive. I’ve always loved the historic features of a colonial style home. But I also think my parents are going to sell in the spring and I’m not sure I’m willing to give up the farm.”

“They’re selling?”

I nod. “My dad is ready to retire, and mom wants to travel.”

Zane looks out the window again and sighs. “I wish my dad would retire. Each time I walk in there, I look at how much it would cost to renovate the store.”

“It’s on the historic registry, Zane.”

“It is?”

“I petitioned to have it put there so the town couldn’t raise the taxes. But it means it also limits what structural modifications can be done.”

“You did that to help my dad, didn’t you?”

“Yes. He would’ve lost it otherwise.”

Zane sighs and shakes his head. “I failed him.”

I rest my hand on his back, hopefully offering him a bit of comfort.

“What matters is you’re here now and you’re not going anywhere.”

He turns sharply and for the briefest of moments I think he’s going to tell me he’s going back to New York, but his features soften and his eyes water. “Leaving was the biggest mistake of my life. I’m not doing it again.”

“I know.” I offer him a smile and then finish my cocoa. I take my mug to the sink, add water, and plan to let it soak overnight. Zane does the same. I don’t bother to move, letting our arms touch while we both stand there.

“I’m tired,” I tell him.

“Okay, I’ll head home.”

“Maybe you’d like to stay.” I glance at him after saying those words.

“Are you sure?”

“I am . . .” I hesitate. “But I’m nowhere near ready to uh . . .”

“Eve, neither am I. Believe me, I’m content with just kissing you.” He pushes my hair over my shoulder. “Holding you.” Zane cups my cheek. I lean into his hold, welcoming his strong hand. “We can snuggle on the couch. It’s definitely big enough for both of us. Watch a movie. ‘Tis the season for twenty-fours of Hallmark, after all.”

The fact he wants to watch cheesy holiday movies makes me giggle. “My bed is far more comfortable and there’s a TV in my room.”

“There is? I didn’t notice in my drunken stupor the last time I was here. ”

“I can’t imagine how you missed it. Come on, let’s go watch movies in bed.”

“What about the tree?” he asks after I take his hand.

“It’s on a timer.”

“Excellent.”

Even though Zane’s been in my place twice before, I’ve purposely tried to keep him away from my room, even though he found his way in here in his self-confessed drunken stupor. And by his own confession, he doesn’t remember my room that night.

The night when everything started to change.

No, I suppose the change started when he showed up at the farm, hoping I would be there, but thinking I wouldn’t. What a twisted trick his mind played on him. I leave him in my room, behind the makeshift walls I put up for privacy, and head to the bathroom to change into a pair of light blue flannel pants with snowmen on them, and matching shirt. I take care of my needs, wash my face and brush my teeth, and then pull an extra toothbrush from my cabinet for Zane. As luck would have it, it’s his favorite color—red.

He's standing at the end of my bed, without his shirt on and his pants undone while he channel surfs. The fact that he feels so at home here screams volumes to me. Somewhere out there in the universe, a seed was planted at Thanksgiving that he needed to come home. First to his dad, and then to me. Maybe he also knew Caryn and small-time life wouldn’t agree and wanted to test her to see if they truly were compatible. It’s not my place to ask him about his ex-fiancée— and I don’t want to—but the fact is, he’s not with her now and that’s what counts.

“There’s a toothbrush on the counter in the bathroom for you.”

He turns and a wide grin forms. “You’re adorable.”

Adorable is for babies and toddlers. I want him to see me as desirable . . . eventually .

“Do you mind if I sleep in my boxers? I don’t imagine you have any of my other clothes?”

“I don’t. Just the sweatshirt. I’m okay with you sleeping in your boxers because we’re going to put a pillow between us.”

Zane’s eyebrow pops up. “We are?”

Nodding, I pull my lower lip in between my teeth and struggle with eye control. I can’t help it. Even if I wanted to, Zane’s attractive. Sexy. And my memories are too vivid for my own liking.

“Eyes up here,” he says, grabbing my attention.

“I’m sorry.” I cover my face in embarrassment. Any romantic entanglements I’ve had over the years have been nothing more than an inch scratched.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” He rubs his hand up and down his torso, clearly proud of himself, and laughs as he passes me to go to the bathroom.

“Yep, definitely pillows between us,” I mutter to myself.

I opt for the side closest to the wall, crawl in, and adjust my body pillow so it’s firmly in the middle. My eyes are on the television when Zane comes back and as much as I want to look at him, to ogle him, I don’t.

The bed dips and the covers rustle, and I’m hit by his manly scent of sandalwood and bergamot washing over me. I close my eyes and inhale, committing his cologne to memory.

“Look at me,” he says in a hushed tone. I roll onto my side to find him staring.

“Hi.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

“You’re welcome.” Having him here feels right.

Zane reaches for my hand. Our fingers lace together and rest on the pillow. “I’m going to work my tail off to prove to you that I’m worthy of your time. I want to earn your attention and hopefully, your love again.”

I know he will and there isn’t a doubt in my mind he’ll achieve what he sets out to do.

“Can I ask you about New York?”

Zane nods.

“I’m curious about some of the things you’ve told me about your time there, especially early on. When did you meet Caryn’s dad?”

“Do you remember in the fall of our third year of law school?”

I nod.

“I went to the job fair at Harvard. You already knew what field you wanted to specialize in and had done your internship. I was still so up in the air, so I went. It was nothing but corporate, big law stuff. Each company tried enticing you with massive salaries. They’d promise you’d make enough money to get out of debt. That sort of thing.

“So, I’m walking around, looking lost and confused, and I stop at Bamford Associates’ table. That’s where I met Mr. Bamford and Serena, although I didn’t know she was Serena until I got to New York. He told me about the company and how great the city is. I said I wasn’t interested, and that you were looking more in the Albany area so we could stay close to our families.

“He understood that family came first. It was their motto, too, apparently. I gave him my info because why not and moved along to the next table. By the end of the fair, I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. Then, a few days later a wine basket showed up at the apartment. The guys were thrilled because it was free booze. It was Bamford. I thought it was odd, but the guys told me it wasn’t and to enjoy the perks of being wined and dined by a top firm in New York.

“That’s all I thought it was. Then around finals, he started texting me about going to New York. I didn’t think anything of it because Bamford Associates wasn’t even on my radar, and then he started calling. Just to check in, he said. He asked if got this or that—things he’d sent over. And I said ‘yeah, of course, thanks.’ I told him about you and how we had these plans, and he told me not to worry, he’d take care of it all when I got there.

“But I never agreed. The next thing I knew, he was dangling the paid internship in my face. The salary was more than I could ever think of earning while still in school. The only issue was you wouldn’t go. I initially told him no thanks because we had a plan, and I still had a semester left of school. The day I told you about the offer, he called and doubled it. Offered to pay off my loans because he had so much faith in me, and I came highly recommended by the school. He fed me everything I wanted to hear.

“Then I got there, and I hated it. It wasn’t where I wanted to be, and I told him as much. Enter Caryn. She was there all the time. Smiling and bubbly. She offered to take me out, show me the city. Every time I tried to come home to you, something urgent needed my attention. Interns shouldn’t have any responsibility and yet I had my own office.

“The day I came back and couldn’t find you, I left after lunch and went back to New York. He knew something had happened because I was whisked to the Hamptons, and was hanging out on their yacht, and stranded during a hurricane with his daughter.”

I take a moment to process everything Zane’s told me. The fact that Bamford chased—hounded him, actually—to take this internship is unethical at best. Zane didn’t even go through an interview process which itself is shady. But, manipulating Zane to stay in New York when he had plans, suddenly introducing him to his daughter, giving him the high-profile clients. It all boils down to one thing. “He groomed you for her,” I tell him.

“What?”

I nod and sit up slightly. “I’ve listened to everything you’ve said and processed it, and there’s only one explanation. You fit the mold of what he wanted for his daughter. Think about it. He’s at Harvard for a job fair—the owner of this mega law firm—and he handpicks you? No offense, but you didn’t go to Harvard or Yale. Why not pick someone from there?”

“Because . . .” Zane looks lost in thought. “Whoa. It’s all fitting together like a jagged puzzle piece. How did I not see this earlier?”

“Because he manipulated you into what he needed you to be. A husband for his daughter.”

Zane rubs his free hand over his face. “I was so stupid.”

“Money does that to people. Especially when you don’t have much to begin with. He found your weakness and exploited it in the worst possible way.”

Zane pulls me into his arms. It feels good being there, with my head in the crook of his neck. I wiggle and squirm until the pillow is removed from the middle of the bed and relax in his arms.

“I think you’re right and I’m so angry I didn’t realize it sooner,” he says, placing a light kiss on the top of my head. “Can we sleep like this?”

“No funny business.”

Zane chuckles. “Believe me, anything I want to do to you isn’t funny.”

We’re quiet for a long moment, the television giving off some background noise. The lights from the screen flicker until he turns it off.

“I’m never going to forgive myself for falling into that trap.”

“That’s okay. I’ll forgive you.”