Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Red’s words settled into the air. It was like a key finally turning perfectly in a lock. What he said didn’t feel wrong. I let his words sink in. I felt insanely vulnerable, like my emotions were so obvious on the outside even though they were so hard for me to understand.
“Does that feel right?” Red asked, a little more gently than he usually spoke.
“It feels more right than anything ever has,” I said, my voice low.
He nodded, watching me with his strangely perceptive eyes.
“The term ‘boyfriends’ can mean a lot of different things,” Red said. “but I think, at its best, it is a form of best friendship. With benefits. The best kind of benefits. There is nothing for you to fail at, Mitch. You’re already everything to Evan.”
“I never even thought that type of future would be an option for me,” I said.
He shrugged one shoulder. “All the best things that have happened in my life, I didn’t see coming from a mile away.”
I felt like tectonic plates were shifting inside me. Nothing about how I felt for Evan had changed—I knew I loved him, and I always would. But something about me was changing, slowly but massively.
“I really hurt Evan,” I said. “He told me about something he was proud of, and I was selfish when I should have been supportive.”
“So apologize,” Red said, like it was the simplest thing. “He’s going to be here tomorrow night for the fundraiser, anyway.”
“Right,” I said, scrubbing my palms across my face.
My insides were churning now. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so uncomfortable. Even when Jess and I had discussed the divorce, I hadn’t felt like this.
It was eating away at me from the inside, thinking about the sheer amount of uncertainty floating around in my head. All I could think about was Evan. I had to make things right. Tomorrow night, Evan was going to be here while I was working. Not just Evan, either. Half of the town would probably end up showing up.
I opened my phone and navigated to the photo I’d taken of him in the kitchen, where his hair was all messed up and he looked like some sort of mad scientist. He’d been alone for so long—truly alone, with no family left, and I was supposed to be the one person who always had his back.
I’d already failed at that.
I wanted him in my house every single day. But I also loved him enough to want whatever was best for him—even if that meant he wanted to go to Switzerland. Evan was hurt right now, and I wouldn’t let anybody hurt him. Especially not myself.
My guilt quickly morphed into anger as I realized how stupid I had been. Last night, but also so many times before.
No matter what it might feel like for me, I was going to protect Evan.
So I was going to do what I should have done a long time ago, and make things right.
21
Evan
“Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.”
Another fucking Einstein quote. He may have been the best mathematician ever, but I’m starting to think maybe I hate Einstein, after all.
Because reality sure isn’t an illusion when it all comes crashing down in your face.
“Perfect. Sophia and Zach, could you please make sure the picture booth is set up?” I said, my eyes darting around the Tavern. “And Priya, please, grab the trivia sheets from the trunk of my car? Shoot, we didn’t leave them back at the school, did we?”
“We got them, Mr. B,” Priya said. “Chill out. This is all going to go great.”
The fundraiser was set to start in an hour, and all afternoon, we’d been working to transform the Tavern from a bar into an event space. In any other town, a fundraiser for a shelter probably wouldn’t take place in a bar, but in Amberfield, we had to make do with the space we had.
I’d been running around like a crazed chicken all afternoon, and even my students were starting to notice.
Of course, the true reason I was so flustered was because I knew Mitch was going to be working the event, and I hadn’t spoken with him since we’d had our fight two nights ago. I was trying to channel that raw hurt and anxiety into making sure every single thing was perfect for this event, but instead I probably looked like a madman.
“Perfect virgin cocktail menu, at your service,” Red said, emerging from the back with a stack of freshly printed menus in hand.
“This is great,” I said, taking the menus and scanning the contents.
“Red’s doesn’t usually host all-ages events, but when we do it, we do it right,” Red said. “Check out the Ice Princess. I’m really proud of this one.”
He handed me a glass of a purple fizzy drink.