Page 16 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)

Eva

I had a list—a meticulous, organized list—for the way I wanted to handle approaching Logan about changing the entire dynamic of our marriage. I wasn’t convinced that we needed a divorce. The fact that he was running around town chasing down my soap told me a lot about where his head was at as well.

For my very first step, I took Amelia’s advice. I chose to focus on myself. My wants, my needs, my desires. The only problem was that I didn’t have a clue where to start. I’d stared at my notepad for a good hour three times in three different coffee shops and still nothing.

While I hated pulling Elliot into any of this, he was the only other person who knew me—really knew me—besides Logan.

His hours at the fire station were fairly inconsistent, but the virtual calendar he kept me pinned on told me where he’d be.

It made event planning easy, but it also made it so I knew where to find him when I needed him.

“How’s the birthday girl?” Elliot asked when I stopped in the apparatus bay. He stood atop one of the engines, grinning at me. “Dance on any more tables after I left you?”

God, I’d never live telling him that down.

“No, I went to bed, thank you very much.”

“Disappointing. Did you know, from up here, you look extra short?”

“Did you know that you’re lucky you’re up there?” I left the threat open. Not that I’d ever actually do anything to him. It was just the way we were.

“ Touché,” he said. His hands fell to his hips. “So, what can I do for you today?”

“What do I need?” I replied. “From life?”

“I’m inclined to say more dick.” He chuckled. “But in my opinion, everyone needs more dick. The world would be so much happier.”

“Elliot!” I scolded and struggled to keep my straight face.

“ What ?” he exclaimed. “You know I’m right. Can you imagine a world where dick breaks were required?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I am. But I’m right. What’s your point?”

“I need your help.” I practically stomped my heel in frustration. “Not your dick jokes.”

“Ouch. Attack me in the joke department.” He feigned his distress, clutching his chest briefly. “It must be serious. All right then! Let me climb down, and we’ll go talk in my office. Maybe later I’ll show you how to use my pole.”

“I will not now nor ever slide down your pole, Elliot Remington Warner,” I snapped, earning a laugh hard enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Oh, that never gets old! See you in a minute.”

With his arm around my shoulders, Elliot guided me through the firehouse. As Captain, he had his own quarters on the other side of the building. That meant I got the unofficial Elliot commentary tour whenever I visited.

“ And here we have a lazy crew doing jack shit while their Captain works his ass off,” Elliot announced as we passed through the kitchen.

From the grin on his face, it was all in jest. He loved the guys he worked with and vice versa.

The six guys sitting in the room all hemmed and hawed through some kind of excuse as we passed.

But me? I waved. I loved visiting Elliot because the guys on his shift always checked me out. It was good for my morale.

“Eyes forward, boys,” he snapped when he caught them staring. “I may not be able to kick your asses for ogling but I will give you a list of tasks so fucking long that you’ll never see the light of day.”

There was grumbling from all of them, making me laugh.

“ I like that they think I’m pretty,” I said when we turned down a hallway.

“They should. You’re fucking gorgeous. They’d be stupid to think otherwise,” he replied. “They just can’t look at you.”

“Oh?” I cocked a brow as I followed him into his office. “And why’s that, Captain?”

“Because at this point, you’re my little sister.”

“I’m older than you!”

“ Mmm , I meant your height, short stuff.” He patted me on the head. “So compact. Any smaller and I’d put you in my pocket.”

“There’s no room in your pockets with that ego of yours,” I retorted.

“Touché, but accurate as hell.” Elliot pulled out a chair for me before rounding the desk and dropping into his. “So, what’s all this about your needs?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” I began, getting comfortable, “among other things. But you’re right. Maybe this is a good time to figure out who I am.”

“Good for you. How did coffee go?”

“It was good—well, the coffee was terrible, but the trip was good. I met someone,” I said. His brows pinched together in confusion, and I realized he thought I meant it in a dating capacity. “Not like that! I met a woman.”

“She said to the gay man, as if meeting a woman couldn’t be romantic,” he retorted with a smirk, and I glared at him. “Hey, until you’ve tried it and with absolute certainty can say you don’t like it, you never know.”

“She does nothing for my lady parts. Better?”

“Immensely. Continue.”

“Anyway, all of it made me realize that… I don’t know what I need or want out of my life anymore,” I told him. “And you know me better than almost anyone. So, what do I need? What do I need from life? I don’t know what I want. Help me, Elliot Remington, you’re my only hope.”

“Ah, she comes in with the big guns,” he replied with a chuckle. “Star Wars quotes will only get you so far.”

“Sad facts.”

“So true. Okay. Well, let’s workshop this.” Clicking his tongue, he searched his desk for a pen and a pad of paper. The man was so unorganized. I watched as he wrote something at the top of the yellow pad. “Stop staring. It’s weird.”

“ I’m not staring.” I laughed because I absolutely was. Elliot was left-handed, and it fascinated me to no end. I couldn’t explain why, but it did.

“Number one,” he exclaimed, “get therapy for creepy obsession with Elliot’s left hand.”

“Don’t you dare put that on there!” I went to grab the notepad, but he pulled it away. “I’m not obsessed with your left hand.”

“You don’t want to know what I do with this hand, Evangeline Marie Cartwright-Ashwood.”

“Oh, my God, no!”

“It’s dirty and not at all appropriate for your pretty little ears.”

“I hate you.” I didn’t, and he knew that. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe.

“Continuing onward with this wild adventure.” He went to work scribbling notes down on the paper, and I leaned forward to watch. “I’m assuming you don’t have a starting point, do you?”

“Not a clue.”

“Making this easy on me, I see. Let’s break this down into categories… basic needs, social needs, personal needs, and sexual needs.”

“Only those?” I let out a nervous laugh. That seemed like so much. I was struggling to come up with one thing.

“We’re calling this Eva Needs A Life ,” he told me. “Now, basic needs… you’re kind of set in the general concept. You have a house, clothes, a job—”

“I got fired,” I interjected. He paused to stare at me, and I offered a sheepish smile. “I may have spent too much time moping and eating cereal.”

“Fuck them,” he retorted. “Do you want to put find a job on here? I mean, it feels kind of… defeating the purpose of finding yourself. Who wants to subject themselves to a lifetime of crappy work when trying to redefine themselves?”

“What about… find a career I love?” I suggested. I’d need one. “I don’t plan to rely on Logan for money for the rest of my life, so I need to figure out money. But I want to do something I love.”

“Done deal.” He wrote it down. “On behalf of your ass, I’m adding… buy real fucking pants—”

“I have pants!”

“You have dress pants.”

“Those are pants.”

“Buy several pairs of jeans and wear them out of the house into the general public where real people can see,” Elliot elaborated, laughing. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in non-dress clothes in years. Time to change that, short stuff. Put that ass in jeans. It’s long overdue.”

“You’re so dramatic,” I snorted.

“I know. I see no issue with that. We’re getting sidetracked. Jeans and a career. What else?” he asked.

“Find a way to cope that doesn’t involve eating cereal,” I said quietly. That gave him pause.

“I’m not putting that on there, Eva,” Elliot replied. “Not when I know what it means to you.”

“I have to stop clinging to the past.”

“There are other ways. You can move forward without giving up the things that bring you comfort. Maybe it comes from a hard point in your life, but you don’t have to give that up. Maybe just find… additional ways to cope that don’t involve cereal, but don’t get rid of the cereal. Deal?”

“You’re pushy,” I muttered. But I loved him all the more for it. “I want to start cooking again.”

“Do you know how to cook?” He glanced at me, and I shrugged. “Take cooking lessons… putting that under personal needs. What else?”

“I need a hobby… how do I find a hobby, Elliot?”

“Watch reels? I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it. I’ll steal you for my book club. We can add reading spicy books to your list of potential hobbies.”

“I’d like to not schedule sex,” I blurted out, my brain glitching before I could stop myself. His pen stopped.

“I’m not touching that with a ten-foot fucking pole,” Elliot muttered. “Shit. Get Eva laid whenever the fuck she wants is going on the top of the list. Add in more kinky time.”

“I don’t have any kinks,” I said, frowning.

“Discover kinks is going on the list,” he said. “This is good. We’re making progress. Keep giving me stuff.”

“I want to get my driver’s license,” I admitted. Elliot dropped his pen on the table and just stared at me, completely judging me. “What?”

“Evangeline Marie, you are not telling me you don’t have your fucking driver’s license!”

“You’ve never seen me drive!”

“ I thought you were just a road trip princess!” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “You and me, I’m teaching you to drive.”

“I know how to drive. I just need to take the test.”

“When was the last time you were behind the wheel of a car?” He waited for me to say something, but I didn’t have an answer that’d make him happy.

I hadn’t gotten behind the wheel of a car since I was seventeen.

I hated driving. It gave me anxiety. “Exactly. It’s back to the parking lot with you, short stuff. Shit.”

“No need to get worked up over it,” I said.

“No, but I’m going to need better insurance for this leg of your adventure,” he shot back with a grin. “Let’s keep going.”

We kept at it, scribbling down random notes and joking with one another. Elliot had a way of making me feel comfortable about something stressful. The sheet filled with things I never would’ve thought of by myself—things that scared me, but I was a little excited to explore too.

Almost an hour later, I was startled when the station’s siren sounded loudly in every room of the firehouse. Elliot remained unfazed. Why would he be? He was trained for this.

“And that’s my cue.” He was quick and efficient as he handed me the notepad and tossed the pen back on his desk. Pausing next to me, he dropped a kiss to the top of my head. “I’ll see you later, short stuff. Wait a few before you head out so you’re not in the way.”

“I will. And Elliot?” I called after him. He paused in the doorway. “Be safe.”

“Always am. Love you, Evie.”

“I love you too,” I said, but he was already gone. My stomach twisted uncomfortably. I always hated this part whenever I visited him. I worried too much to watch him go off and be a hero.

I waited like he asked, letting them clear out to leave.

With my notepad tucked away in my purse, I called for a cab.

The second stop of the day required sneaking into Logan’s work and tracking down Miller.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Logan had used Miller to draw up our divorce papers, but now I needed Miller to alter them.

Ethical? Probably not. Did I care? Not in the least.