“Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that.” Evelyn shuts off the water once we’ve cleared the sink. “I’m just saying, friends don’t kiss like that.”
My drawn-out sigh is so loud that some nearby kids ask me if I’m okay. And while I answer with, "Yes," I know that’s a lie.
From Sutton to Margaret and now Evelyn—I’ve heard that same sentence nonstop. And the more they say it, the more I start thinking there might be some truth to it. I wouldn’t saywe’re more than friends, but the attraction is there, which is exactly why I’m choosing to ignore it.
“How do you feel about this month’s family dinner?” I ask Evelyn, switching the topic to something that doesn’t revolve around me.
Her lips press into a thin line, and the light in her eyes vanishes. “You know how it goes. Same old, same old.”
A dull ache settles in my chest at the way she says it.
Evelyn might have a family, but from the way she describes them, I wouldn’t consider them such.
Cold. Uncaring. Belittling. Her father’s side comes from a long line of world-renowned cardiovascular surgeons, and despite her accomplishments, it seems no matter what she does, it’s never good enough for him.
“And your plans after volunteering?” She flips back our conversation to something safer.
“Lab. Same old, same old.” I purposely leave out the part where Nate is picking me up.
“Do you think you’ll run into that hot, fake fiancé of yours again?” Her face lights up with a mischievous smile.
I point at the door, earning me a pinch to the arm before she walks out with that shit-eating grin. “See you later, Vivienne.” She waves, leaving me alone in the empty classroom now that the kids are all picked up.
A notification tugs my focus, and while I expect it to be the man of the hour, it’s a number I don’t recognize.
Do you have time to talk this evening?
The cryptic message puts me on high alert, but the pit in my stomach vanishes at Nate’s “coming soon” text.
———
T-minus five minutes.
I’m ashamed to admit I’ve been counting down the time until Nate arrives. And while I’m trying to convince myself that I’m looking forward to the ride back to the lab, I know that’s a lie.
“Vivienne!”
My head snaps up at the sound of my name. It takes me a few seconds to spot a man in the distance, waving as he approaches.
Trench coat. Boots. Some sort of detective hat.
Whoever this is looks like a less attractive version of Sherlock Holmes. But bad fashion aside, it’s that familiar face that makes my mouth drop in shock.
Cassandro Tullio.
My brows furrow at the sight of the man I never thought I’d see again. He moved to California for law school right after we graduated from university, while I came here for my PhD.
“Vivienne! Hey!” He smiles like we’re old pals—as though our four-year relationship ended on perfectly good terms.
I take a look behind me, wondering if there’s another Vivienne around, but all I find is the deserted community center that hosted our thirty or so kids.
No one is ever going to love you with the baggage you carry.
The words hurt then, and they still sting now.
There’s a reason I didn’t open up easily anymore, and he’s at the root of it. Everything I confessed to him at the height of my sadness felt like a nuisance to him. Since then, I’ve only shared minimal details with others—most, nothing at all.
“Gosh, how have you been, Vivienne? It’s been so long?” Cassandro opens his arms wide as he approaches me.
