It was getting close to magic hour. I could have gone out and gotten drunk or tried to find answers, but instead, I crawled into bed next to Evey and rested my head on her chest. I put my hand on her belly, and she laced her fingers through mine. We cried together and then fell asleep. Our baby was gone.
THINGS CHANGED OVERthe next few weeks. I insisted on using condoms, but soon gave up on that. It’s just not the same. Tracey gave me a job working in the warehouse, which allowed me to stay close to Evey, but it also irritated her. She wanted independence. I understood, even though she often forgot that I had always been there. She’d tell me it was just different now.
On a Tuesday, Brooklyn came down to the warehouse and flaunted a giant diamond. Evey just stared at it in shock.
“Congrats,” I said from behind Brooklyn. “Who’s the lucky guy?”Poor fool.
“Oh my God, you work here now too?” Brooklyn said. “You guys really can’t be away from each other for more than a minute.”
She had no idea. Evey didn’t respond, and I didn’t want to explain.
“So who is he?” I asked again.
“Keith,” Evey answered for Brooklyn.
I pointed at Evey, “Keith, as in the Keith you went out with?”
“Yes. Although he wasn’t really himself that night, so I didn’t get to know him at all.” Evey rolled her eyes at me.
“You’re marrying that guy?” I said.
“Lucian,” Evey chided.
“What’s it to you, weirdo?” Brooklyn asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “Congrats, weirdo.” I was done being a jerk to Brooke. She didn’t deserve it.
I turned and walked away, but I could still hear Evey talking. They started planning Brooklyn’s wedding right then and there. Brooklyn had gone from not wanting to go on two dates with the same person to getting hitched. Maybe Evey had more of an influence on her than I had thought.
While the two girls were talking wedding details, I went to the back of the warehouse to break down boxes. I noticed a huge pile of jeans in a tote sitting next to the dumpster. They were Evey’s designs.
I grabbed the jeans, went inside, and marched up to Tracey. “You’re throwing these out?”
“They’re terrible,” she said distractedly while she flipped through a magazine.
“I think they’re great.”
She set the magazine down and looked at me. “You think everything she does is great.”
“That’s not true. I hate when she whines. She also leaves the refrigerator open and the lights on.” I actually didn’t care about any of that. “But these are jeans are great, and you know it. She was willing to put your name on them. What, you have too much pride to let her designs take off? You know they will.”
“They’re just jeans,” she said.
“Fine, then we’ll take them. No sense in throwing out perfectly good denim.”
“It’s my denim, and if I want to throw it out, then I will.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No.” She returned her focus to the magazine and flipped through the pages again.
“I’ve always been respectful toward you, Tracey—”
“I don’t give a shit.”
Tracey was truly a piece of work. I used to be able to charm women, but I didn’t seem to have that effect on Tracey anymore. Actually, I didn’t seem to have that effect on anyone anymore.
I set the jeans under a folding table and found Evey saying good-bye to Brooklyn outside.
