Page 8

Evie

Sometimes, it's important to face your mistakes. Stand tall and look it—in my case, him—straight in the eye. Yeah, I've made many mistakes, and I will make more. That ’ s human.

But meeting my mistake is probably a mistake.

I deserve an apology from Parker.

And he needs to forget my number.

But it feels good to look into Parker's blue, once swoon-worthy, ick-eyes and feel nothing. Okay, not entirely nothing because he's the only man I've ever dated. It's not nostalgia. It's a sense of relief and freedom.

"You look good." Parker runs a hand over his light brown hair, tussling it.

His eyes flash when I don't respond.

It's amazing what taking a step back does for the soul. To think there was a time when I yearned for his compliment.

He starts at a harried pace back and forth. Parker is one of those people who needs time cranking their engines before they can do anything. It took him a month of trying to ask me out. I used to think it was cute.

I snag a glass of water from a passing waiter to pass the time.

"I wanted to apologize," he starts. "But Wild's here."

If he isn't going to apologize, I'm leaving. "What does he have to do with your apology?"

His eyes cloud with what looks suspiciously like resentment and anger. But I refuse to believe it's resentment and anger I'm seeing because if it is, then I don't know what it says about me that I wasted my tears on someone so unworthy.

"He punched me!"

When did Wild have the time to do that? He wasn't in the country when Parker broke up with me. I push Wild and his over-protectiveness to the back of my mind and focus on my annoying ex. "You said you wanted to apologize?"

He gives me a condescending smile. "It's not my fault. If you were a real Langford—"

I throw my water in his face.

My hand moved before my brain gave the signal. I look at my hand in disbelief. I'm not too fond of public displays. I wasn't raised that way. But years of training do nothing to quell the urge to drag my short nails down his face.

With water drops clinging to his hair and face, Parker manages a fulminating glare. "What's wrong with you? I cheated, and so what? I'm trying to make things right!"

"By manipulating me into thinking it's my fault?"

"Do you think it was easy for me dating you knowing you weren't going to inherit anything and having your bodyguards breathing down my neck?"

You know what I said about facing your mistakes? I take it back. It is better to let the dead remain buried.

Loving someone isn't something you struggle with. It is you and the other person. A person with whom you share mutual respect, kindness, and patience.

"I bet Wild's close by waiting to give me another warning or worse." A shudder racks through him at the prospect.

Regret coats my tongue. It doesn't taste very good. He's still the same Parker, but I don't recognize him because time has cleaned the blur off my glasses so I can see his true colors.

I turn to leave. He grabs my arm, fingers digging into my skin. "I'm not done talking."

The same waiter, so helpful with the water soaking through Parker's shirt, stops and starts hurrying towards us. I grab the first thing: a plate of lobster tail. Parker's sly expression morphs into a horrified mask as an army of tender lobsters fly in formation towards him.

Equally horrified, the server shouts, “ No, no, no."

Parker releases me in favor of evading the lobster attack.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Sarah rushing forward, eyes and mouth spitting venom.

I spare a second to feel pity for her. We've not physically fought since we ended up in the principal's office in high school.Mrs. Langford was near apoplectic that day.

Sarah's going to hit me. I can read her intention. And because she has ears everywhere, Mrs. Langford will hear about this fight and have a stroke from the shock.

I can see the headlines. I'm reading them in giant, colorful print: Half-sisters Fight to the Death Over a Man.

Sarah reaches us just as I decide to fight back.

The server's chants change from no, no, to oh my gosh. As a soundtrack to our comedy of horrors, it's not so bad.

I shift to a defensive stance, mentally calling up Sarah's dirty fighting tricks. I'm so ready. But Sarah steps on a lobster, her venomous expression shifts slowly to open-mouthed horror. Her legs cartwheel, and her arms flail. She's looking for anything, anyone, to break her fall.

I have never seen such cartoonishly desperate eyes.

Arms fold around me and pull me away from her seeking hands. Sarah slams into Parker. They both start to go down. The waiter follows them. They all go down. It's all legs and hands and horrified eyes. And lobsters. They stay suspended in the air for a timeless beat.

I hold my breath.

Then they all crash down.

Somehow, the poor waiter hits the ground first. Sarah and Parker pile on him. It's unbelievable gymnastics.

A pained groan emits from the pile.

Sarah ’ s head emerges, her right cheek wearing the remains of the buttery sauce. She glares at me. “ Why do you always ruin everything for me?”

Me?

The waiter raises his head and removes a lobster stuck to his forehead with a grimace. "My reward for trying to avoid a slip and fall lawsuit."

Wild turns me around, reaching with both hands to cup my cheeks. "Did he touch you? Are you okay?"

I nod. All I can see are lobsters and legs. And cartoonish eyes.

"Evie Cassandra." A line of worry digs between Wild ’ s eyebrows.

My focus snaps back to the present. And Wild. "I'm okay. Promise.”

“ This is your half a minute?”

“ What?”

“ You said you only needed half a minute with him,” Wild says through gritted teeth.

Between Parker and Sarah saying I always ruin everything for her, and Wild, my head is spinning. “ I just wanted him to apologize,” I whisper.

“ Evie,” Wild says, reaching for me.

“ Am I wrong for expecting an apology from him?”

He pulls me into his arms.

I don ’ t move. Not even to breathe.

His hand goes to my head as he murmurs for my ears alone, “ You did good.”

I ’ m still not breathing because I ’ m fighting the shiver going down my spine.