Part 24 (1/2)
”Has she?” Edward asked, and Evie saw his shoulders creep up in tension again. She shook her head no but wasn't sure either man noticed. Her voice box had quit on her.
Jack smiled innocently. ”Well, I suppose we still have some details to iron out. But with her new business, I don't see why this wouldn't be a great opportunity.”
Evie leaned over her plate, hoping to disappear in the cloud of steam that was heading to the ceiling. No such luck.
”Well, let me allow you two to enjoy your meal in peace,” Jack said. ”I have to drop by a lot of the tables tonight.” He gestured toward the restaurant, where every seat was occupied.
”Yes, and we've got a party to get to,” Evie said, desperate to keep pace with Jack.
”We do?” Edward asked, his look of annoyance surpa.s.sing his surprise.
”Yes, didn't I mention it?” Evie said innocently. ”Anyway, good-bye, Jack.”
”Happy new year, Evie,” he said, and brushed a light peck on her cheek. Extending his hand to Edward once again, he said, ”Don't let her get away.”
Like you did? Evie was more than baffled.
”What was that about a party, Evie?” Edward asked when Jack was out of earshot.
”Oh, I was just trying to hurry him along,” Evie said, hoping to be convincing. She noticed Edward didn't even ask her about redesigning JAK, or her so-called new business.
After Jack left their table, Evie and Edward's dinner conversation wasn't entirely mangled, but it lacked the natural quality it typically possessed. She answered too many of his statements with ”uh-huh” and he barely showed his dimple. She tried not to worry too much about it. Outside of JAK, on neutral territory, she and Edward would return to their old ways.
For the next hour, while Evie and Edward worked their way through their main course and decadent servings of tiramisu and mille-feuille, Jack milled about the restaurant, shaking hands, lighting flambes, and toasting with patrons. Evie heard the people at the next table comment that it was already 11:00 P.M. She wondered if and when Zeynup was going to appear. Where was she right now? Downing champagne with a gaggle of glamorous foreigners downtown? Would she be here to kiss Jack at midnight while the onlookers cheered? Evie would have liked to see this woman in the flesh. Sensing Jack was keeping an eye on her, Evie tousled her hair, sensuously brought her winegla.s.s to her lips repeatedly, and throatily laughed until her neck hurt. She even uncharacteristically spooned her dessert into Edward's mouth when she noticed Jack at the adjacent table. Edward didn't seem to know what to make of Evie's affections, and appeared to alternate between confusion, flattery, and concern.
”I think we should get going,” Edward said when their dessert plates were cleared. She hadn't noticed that he'd already paid the check. He gathered their coats and ushered Evie onto the street before she had a chance to protest their departure or spot Jack one last time.
Outside, the blast of cold air hit her face like a speeding truck. The streetlights looked like dripping paint, and she clutched Edward's arm for support. The wine had gotten the best of her. By the time they made it into a taxi, she was slurring something about d.i.c.k Clark and his b.a.l.l.s dropping.
With her forehead propped against her apartment door, Evie struggled to fit her key into the lock. Edward pried it from her determined fingers and easily opened the door. Evie truly didn't know what would happen when they were inside. Would they consummate the relations.h.i.+p, the way she had expected to welcome the new year, or was the seismic s.h.i.+ft that she was perceiving since they arrived at JAK a reality? She collapsed onto the couch and planted her head into a velvet throw pillow, unable to think straight. What a night.
”Where are the lights, Evie?” She could hear Edward tapping on her walls. There was, unless she was mistaken, a never-before-heard chill in his voice.
”To the right of the front door,” she mumbled. Maybe there was still a chance to turn the evening around. She could put on some music, slip into her favorite silver nightie, and take Edward to her bed.
”That's where I am,” Edward said. She heard him swatting at the switch.
Evie slowly got to her feet. The journey from intoxicated to hungover had already begun. Boulder-size lumps had taken up residence in the back of her skull. Each of her muscles felt sluggish, as if on strike until the alcohol was purged from their surroundings.
She flicked the switch. Nothing happened. She tried it several times more, but the room remained a black canvas, save the sliver of light shed by her battery-operated clock.
”Sorry, I don't know what's going on. There's another switch by the screen,” she said. ”Next to the big photograph. Try that one.”
Right outside her bedroom hung a vintage photograph of the French singer Edith Piaf. Evie found it on a trip to Paris with Jack over a year ago, while they were browsing antique shops on the outskirts of the city. The vacation had proved a watershed moment in their relations.h.i.+p. At the outset, Evie had felt like her life could not get any better. Suspending what she knew in reality, she harbored a belief that Jack would propose in Paris. She visualized him dropping down on one knee at Versailles or the Eiffel Tower. She fantasized that Jack had been lying all along about his views on marriage just to take her even more by surprise when he produced a ring.
But by the day they entered the antique shop where she found the lovely black-and-white photograph of Edith Piaf, the trip was nearly over and Jack had not proposed. In fact, she'd even broached the topic a few times, carefully choosing her moments. She brought it up on a sunny day when they were strolling in the Tuileries eating ice-cream cones. And then again after an extraordinary performance on her part in the bedroom that had involved a striptease and a skillful b.l.o.w. .j.o.b. But each time she spoke about their future, Jack rebuffed her coa.r.s.ely, saying some variation of ”Let's just enjoy the trip.” Crushed, Evie was in a foul mood for the last leg, and when Jack went to pay for the Piaf photograph Evie pushed his hand away and insisted on paying for it herself.
”What's the point?” she had said gruffly. ”It's not like we're married.” Jack had simply slipped his wallet back into his pants pocket and said nothing while Evie whipped out her credit card. She liked the picture too much to take it down, even though it resurrected painful memories.
”Nice photograph,” Edward called out.
Heart-wrenching is more like it, she thought.
”Evie, this isn't working either. Maybe the building had a power outage,” he suggested.
”That must be it,” she said. She pressed the intercom b.u.t.ton. ”Are we having a blackout?”
”No, Miss Rosen. If we had lost electricity, then we wouldn't be answering the intercom now.”
”Well my apartment is pitch-black so can you please send the super up? We want to watch the ball drop.”
”It's New Year's Eve. He's off,” the doorman said unsympathetically.
Edward came over and put his hand on her shoulder. ”Evie, it's okay. We'll handle this tomorrow.”
We'll handle this tomorrow. The words reverberated in her brain.
”What a nightmare,” she whined. It was 11:43 P.M. She lit a candle by her bedside table, the words from Fiona Apple's ”Shadowboxer” echoing in her mind as she struck the match: Once my flame and twice my burn. G.o.d d.a.m.n Jack. She reached for her flannel pajamas.
”Tomorrow, you'll call up your electric company, find out what happened,” he said. ”I'm sure it was an accident. It's not like you don't pay your bills.”
She thought about that for a moment, not able to remember the last time she had paid an electric bill.
”You're right,” Evie said. ”I think I need to go to sleep. Will you stay over with me?”
Morning hit her unapologetically. The sunlight streamed through her window with a mighty force, making it impossible to stay asleep and pretend the night before had never occurred. She took a good look at the man lying next to her in bed. Their first sleepover had definitely not gone according to plan.
Edward, in an unders.h.i.+rt and boxers, looked remarkably comfortable in her bed. Overnight the coa.r.s.e hairs on his chin and above his upper lip had sprouted and the shadow made him look more brusque. Her mind immediately did a side-by-side comparison of him and Jack. Edward was more cla.s.sically handsome, that was for sure, but Jack still had that certain something that she could never fully articulate, even to herself. She still couldn't believe she saw him last night.
”Good morning,” Edward said, after she started stirring.
”Morning to you,” Evie said. There was something rea.s.suring about his stillness in bed. If he was plotting his escape, she couldn't tell.
”So, just to make sure this wasn't a dream, I don't have electricity, do I?” Evie asked.
Edward turned toward her and propped up his head in his hand, so they were mirror images of each other.
”I'm afraid not. I got up an hour ago and tried to make coffee and realized that an electric coffeemaker plus unrefrigerated milk poses a significant problem. So I went back to sleep.”
Evie moaned. Last night she hadn't even thought about all the food in her refrigerator and freezer going bad. Fortunately only milk, frozen waffles, and a container of egg salad from Han's Happy Deli were lost.
”I can't believe we saw your ex-boyfriend last night. At the restaurant I chose. What are the chances?” Edward swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his clothes. She didn't take that as a great sign.
”It was crazy,” Evie said, touching his back lightly before he put on his s.h.i.+rt. ”But we just won't go back there. Like you said, we have eighteen thousand restaurants to choose from.”
”Actually, Jack said that,” Edward said, twisting around to face her. ”Listen, Evie, I'm sorry if I'm speaking out of turn, but I think you may have some unfinished business with him.” He put his arms through the sleeves of his b.u.t.ton-down and rose to get his pants.
She wanted to protest. To tell Edward that she was over Jack and totally ready to move forward with their relations.h.i.+p. But she found it hard to do so convincingly when she was replaying every line exchanged between her and Jack over and over, searching for signs of his longing for her, and asking herself why he called her back to his office. She made up a new business to impress him; invented a story about having another party to go to. Edward witnessed this behavior. How could he not accuse her of having unresolved feelings? The question was where she and Edward would go from this f.u.c.ked-up place.