4. Evangeline

FOUR

EVANGELINE

“ I t’s Christmas, Zane.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

It’s been two days since Christmas. Forty-eight hours since Zane’s phone rang incessantly at the dinner table. He declined it the first couple of times, but on the third he took the call instead of turning the damn thing off. I don’t even know how many minutes since I sat there, with my family staring on while my boyfriend excused himself to take a call from an assistant regarding an internship.

“What did she want?”

“To wish me a Merry Christmas.”

“And a text wouldn’t suffice?”

“I’m sorry, Eve.”

Zane being sorry did nothing to assuage the pain and humiliation I felt while I tried to brush my feelings under the rug. I don’t know what bothered me the most about Christmas dinner her calling, or him answering. Either way, this entire internship is leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

Any holiday cheer I had has faded. The magic has been dimmed by the realization that I’m uncomfortable with Zane taking this job. Opportunities aside, I don’t know if I’ll be able to trust the situation. I’ve seen the texts from Serena and they’re borderline unprofessional. At first, I thought I was reading too much into them because I don’t want Zane to go, but I’m not. Sending a winky face and heart emoji to someone you don’t know is out of line.

The twinkling lights of our Christmas tree reflect in the window. It’s snowing again. And the usual sight of my neighbor’s horses pulling a carriage down the road doesn’t bring the same joy it would’ve days ago.

My father stokes the fire. He’s taking a much-needed break from being the local tree farmer and resting his achy bones. He works hard. So does my mom, who is humming in the kitchen, still stuck on holiday music. I swear if she could, she’d listen to Bing Crosby all year round.

Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but I want this season to be over. In a week, I move into my one-bedroom Boston apartment—that I can’t afford by myself—and have to pretend everything is going to be okay. And when the weekend comes, I’ll paste a bright smile on my face and welcome Zane home, while wondering if Serena is exactly the same way in person as she is over her texts. Overly flirty. Deep down, I know Zane wouldn’t cheat.

Or would he?

The thought rips my already torn heart even more. I’ve never not trusted Zane. Never even questioned his loyalty to me until now. It’s the most horrible feeling in the world.

Zane and I need to talk. Really talk. He needs to know how I feel and where I stand. No more tiptoeing around our feelings. He wants this internship—believe me, I get it. But at whose expense? Is our relationship not worth finding a different internship? I guess I’ll find out when he comes to pick me up.

I wipe an errant tear from my cheek and avoid looking at my dad. He’s asked if I’m okay, and I lied and told him I am. I’m sad and twisted up on the inside and I’m really scared this is the end of Zane and me. Never in a million years, did I think we’d be over. I always saw us married with children, and the white picket-fenced house, cliched as it sounds.

Zane is supposed to come by later so we can work out the details of our new, yet broken, living arrangement. Right now, the plan is for him to train back to Boston on Thursday evenings, and then head back to NYC on Sunday evenings, all while paying rent in two places. The original—"we take care of housing lure”—is nothing more than Bamford Associates having a complex for their interns to rent places in. Of course, this doesn’t come to light until after Zane signed an employment agreement.

He’s worried about funds, as his student loans only cover so much. I am as well. I can’t afford this apartment without him.

Sighing, I make my way into the kitchen to refill my mug with homemade hot cocoa. My mom greets me with a warm smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. As a parent, I imagine it’s hard seeing your child’s world get upended in such a way. She comes over to me and pulls me into her embrace and I sag into the familiarity of her hug.

“It’s going to be okay.” Her words are meant to reassure, but all I can think is it’s not going to be okay until we graduate, and then everything will be fine. Six months in the grand scheme of things isn’t long.

But to my heart, it is.

A knock on the door pulls me from her arms. My dad opens the door and Zane’s voice echoes through the house. He’s never knocked before, and I never thought it would bother me. But it does.

“Hey, Zane. Evangeline’s in the kitchen.”

I’m frozen in place, watching the doorway, waiting for him to appear. He does, with his hands in his pockets. Zane leans against the doorjamb and smiles, melting my heart. He runs his hand through his dark hair, droplets of melted snow falling onto his jacket.

“Hey,” I say softly, momentarily forgetting these horrible feelings I have, until the sadness seeps in.

“You ready?”

I nod, even though I’m not sure I am. “Yeah. Let’s go.” On our way out, I grab my flannel jacket.

We walk toward his truck, with his hand on my lower back. The freshly fallen snow crunches under our boots. The silence between us feels heavy, like there’s a thousand things we want to say but don’t know how to .

Zane opens the passenger door for me, and I climb in, pulling my coat tighter around me as I settle into the seat. He gets in on the driver’s side, and turns the key in the ignition. The truck rumbles to life, and we sit there for a moment, the heater blasting warm air.

“I was thinking we could go to the park? Maybe take a walk.”

“That sounds nice.”

We drive in silence, the familiar streets of Deer Ridge passing by. Some people are outside, removing their decorations before we get hit with the looming storm. There’s nothing like the threat of a nor’easter after Christmas to get people outside.

We park near the entrance of the park, and Zane gets out, walking around to open my door. I step out into the cold, the wind biting at my cheeks, and we start walking down the path that winds through the trees. It’s quiet here, with only the occasional sound of snow crunching under our feet.

Zane reaches for my hand, and I let him take it, our fingers intertwining. His hand is warm, and for a moment, it feels like everything is the way it used to be. The way things should be between us.

We walk to the top of the trail. It’s not a steep incline and you really can’t see much from where we are, but it’s beautiful with the snowcapped trees and the few houses that are lit up with Christmas lights.

“They want me to start early.”

My heart hits the ground and doesn’t bounce back into place. “Of course they do,” I say, and I surprise myself when I realize I somewhat expected this. “When?”

“Now, more or less.”

I want to scream. Throw a tantrum. Say things like, what about me or what about us . But I don’t. I nod and bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.

“I hate this,” Zane says quietly, his voice barely audible over the sound of our footsteps.

I glance at him, my heart pounding. “I do too.”

He sighs, his grip on my hand tightening. “I don’t want this job to mess things up between us, and I know you’re feeling uncertain.”

“That’s the understatement of this year and next.”

Zane frowns. “I love you, Eve. Nothing is going to change that.”

Time I didn’t ask for.

Space we don’t need.

“Are you sure you won’t come with me?”

I shake my head. “I have classes to finish, Zane. I don’t think it’s fair that you ask me to take my last semester off for this internship. Why don’t you stay and do it in the summer?”

His silence screams volumes. Like a blinking neon sign right in front of my face. I nod. “I see.” I start down the hill.

“Eve, wait.”

“That’s what I’m doing, right?” I turn and face him. “I’m waiting, for you. Nothing feels right about this, Zane. Not a single thing. What law firm doesn’t care that you’re starting your last semester?”

“These big?— ”

I hold my hand up and shake my head. “These big law firms are in Boston as well, Zane. Don’t act like they aren’t. What is it about Bamford?”

“Eve . . .”

“Look. I don’t want to hold you back from following your dreams. If you think this company is going to open doors for you, that firms in Boston can’t or won’t, then whatever. I don’t want to fight with you. You know how I feel. I know how you feel. We’re at an impasse.”

Zane comes toward me and pulls me into his arms. “It’s only for six months and I’ll be back every Thursday. I have the train schedule memorized. Every Friday, we’ll walk into class together, spend the weekend together, and then on Sunday, I’ll head back. We’ll text during the day and FaceTime at night, which is no different from what we’ve done since we started college.”

“This feels different.”

“I promise you I’m not giving up on us.”

The tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over, and I wipe them away quickly. “What if you don’t come back? What if New York is everything you’ve ever wanted?”

Zane pulls closer, his hands cupping my face as he looks into my eyes. “I’ll come back. I promise, Eve. I love you. That hasn’t changed.”

I nod, my throat tight with emotion. “I love you too.”

We stand there for a long moment, the snow falling softly around us, and I let myself lean into him, resting my head against his chest. His arms wrap around me, holding me close, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

But then reality creeps back in, and I know we can’t stay here forever.

The train station is quieter than I expected, the platform nearly empty except for a few travelers scattered around, waiting for their train. Zane and I stand close together, my hand still in his, the sound of the approaching train echoing in the distance.

This is it. This is the moment I’ve been dreading.

Zane shifts beside me, pulling me closer as the train arrives on its platform. “I’ll be in Boston in a few weeks. My dad will help you get settled,” he says softly, his voice filled with determination. “Thursday night, we’ll have wings at the pub.”

I nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “Okay.”

The train slows to a stop, and the doors slide open, the cold air rushing in as a few passengers step out onto the platform. Zane turns to me, his eyes locking with mine, and I see the same sadness I feel mirrored in his expression.

“I hate this,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

“I do too,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, neither of us moves. We just stand there, holding on to each other, both of us scared to let go. Then, slowly, Zane leans down, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s bittersweet, filled with the promise of love and the ache of uncertainty.

When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he whispers.

I nod, my heart breaking even as I try to hold on to his promise. “Yeah.”

The train whistle sounds, and Zane steps back, his hand slipping out of mine. He gives me one last look, his eyes filled with the same sadness and love I feel, before turning and stepping onto the train.

I watch as the doors slide shut behind him, and the train slowly begins to pull away from the platform. I stand there, watching until the train is out of sight, my chest tight with emotion.

In the grand scheme of things, what’s a couple of weeks? Many people travel for work, and they make their relationship work. Besides, Zane has never broken a promise before.

As the snow continues to fall around me, I let myself believe that he won’t break his promise now.

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