SHARI KNEW SOMETHING was off, but had no idea what, or why.
From when she’d walked back into the living room after taking a call from a client, Evan’s demeanor had changed. Drastically. The smiles he gave her, which were few, didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, he seemed tense and withdrawn, and the only warm good-bye he had for anyone in the family was for his grandmother.
Boy, did she like Rose, who was a character. She liked all of his family, actually. They’d treated her kindly, had been warm and welcoming. She thought the evening had been lovely and gone well . . . but now, even though they were alone on the train, Evan was quiet. He hadn’t reached for her hand or kissed her at all. His jaw was tight and the crease that appeared between his brows when he was stressed hadn’t gone away.
Halfway through the ride back to Atlantic Terminal, she finally asked, “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do you just want to go home alone tonight?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said.
“For a lawyer, you’re a lousy liar.”
He snorted at that. “I’m . . . I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
She stared at him, searching for a clue. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” he said immediately. He shook his head to punctuate that. “No, not at all.”
“Did something happen with a member of your family?” she asked tentatively.
“We’re not on the clock,” he said, looking away. “Stop the cross-exam.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I left the room to take a call, you were fine. I came back a few minutes later, you weren’t fine. I don’t need to cross-examine you to connect the dots, Evan.” She sat back in her seat and crossed her arms around her middle.
He didn’t say anything.
They rode in silence for the next three stops. When her stop was announced as coming up next, she said tersely, “You’re not coming home with me tonight.”
He frowned at her. “Now you’re mad at me?”
“Yeah, a little.” She buttoned up her coat. “You pulled a total one-eighty on me tonight and you won’t tell me why. For the first time since we’ve been together, you’re totally shutting me out. And it stings.” She wrapped her scarf around her neck, fighting to keep her voice calm and steady. “You obviously want to be alone right now. So go home, be alone. That’s fine. Maybe you’ll feel like talking tomorrow.”
“I don’t know what I want,” he blurted.
She stilled. A cold prickle ran over her skin, even though her wool coat was buttoned to the top. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“I don’t know . . .” He ran his hands through his hair. His discomfort was palpable, radiating off him in waves. “You’re right, we shouldn’t go home together tonight. I just . . . need a little space.”
The chill was stronger this time, not only skimming over her, but through her. What the hell had happened? Her mind raced but she couldn’t think of anything. Something had gone on in the few short minutes she was out of the room, that was obvious. But Evan wasn’t giving her an inch. “Define ‘a little space,’ please?” she asked.
The muffled voice of the conductor announced her stop. Evan leaned in and kissed her cheek, not even her mouth. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Her stomach roiled. But she rose to her feet and said, “Happy Chanukah.” Grabbing her tote bag, she walked away from him and didn’t look back. She got off the train, managed to get up the stairs, through the terminal, and to the street. A cold wind whipped at her, sending her hair all around and bringing tears to her eyes. Sniffing them back, refusing to give in to them, she walked briskly down the street toward her building.
EVAN BARELY SLEPT that night. He tossed and turned, punching his pillow several times, staring at the ceiling as his brain kept going and going.
He’d gotten completely freaked out, is what had happened. Plain and simple.
The more his family talked about how perfect Shari was for him, the more they got pushy and in his business and talked about marriage and all that . . . the more he’d started to panic. He felt that panic blossom in his blood, his stomach, and his chest— that tightness and chill and rush all combined.
Part of it was his fault, of course. He’d brought a woman home to meet his family. That usually transmitted a clear message to both the woman and the family: I’m serious about this one. If he thought otherwise going in, he really was an idiot.
But it wasn’t like he’d brought her home for the High Holidays, for Pete’s sake. Chanukah wasn’t a serious, highly religious holiday, it was one of the festive ones. Chanukah was just supposed to be fun, lighthearted, and it had been. Shari fit in seamlessly with his family, and it’d been good to see everyone. Until they all started harping at him like a bunch of old matchmakers. The only one who was allowed to say stuff like that, pull stuff like that, was Bubby. And boy, had she. She never held back, that was for sure. He was glad she liked Shari so much, but she’d gone on and on . . . Evan rolled to his other side, sighed for the hundredth time, and scrubbed his hands over his face.
Shari. He’d pulled away from her, lost in his confusion and caught in a bit of panic, and he’d hurt her. He’d seen it in those expressive sky blue eyes of hers, the way they flashed before she got up and left the train. Damn. He felt awful about that. But . . . he just couldn’t be with her right then. He felt weirded out by her, it was the strangest thing. He needed some time and space . . . but to what end, he wasn’t exactly sure.
Evan had gone into Family Law, and specifically become a divorce attorney, because he knew, unfortunately, there would always be a need for one. Steady work was assured. People broke up all the time.
What he hadn’t been fully prepared for was just how ugly divorce cases could get. He’d seen and heard vile, horrible, disgusting things come from the mouths of his clients and their spouses . . . the true darker side of human nature. The nastiness, the bitterness . . . of course he was wary of marriage as a result. Who wouldn’t be?
He’d had girlfriends in high school and college. His relationship history wasn’t anything crazy; he considered himself fairly average in that respect. Not a player, but not a monk. He dated. Because he liked women. He just hadn’t had the time to get serious—between law school, then starting his career, he had very little free time. It wasn’t fair to start a relationship when his life was that busy, and it was simply not feasible. Keeping it casual was how it’d been for him for a few years.
Until he’d met Shari. From their first date, he got one taste of her and couldn’t get enough. It was easier that she was a lawyer, too; she understood the long hours, the need to decompress on the off hours, how the job could take over your life sometimes. She was equally driven, equally intelligent, and their chemistry was red hot. It was about more than lust or attraction, though. They genuinely liked each other. They had things in common, and never ran out of things to talk about. Spending time with Shari was always a pure pleasure. Great. Easy. That was what had sealed it for him: she was so easy to be with. It felt totally right.
But he still wasn’t sure he ever wanted to get married. He didn’t think Shari had been pushing him for a ring or anything like that. Or had she, and he’d missed the signs? Suddenly, he was unsure. But once marriage had been brought up by everyone and they pounced on him, he’d needed a breather. Shit. He punched the pillow into a new formation for what must’ve been the twentieth time. He had to figure out why he’d gotten so spooked. Why he suddenly didn’t want to be with her.
The look on her gorgeous face when he’d given her the earrings came into his head. She’d been so delighted. The joy was unmistakable, and it had made him . . . well, plain happy. Happy that he’d surprised her, and that she’d been so obviously touched by his gesture. And he’d been proud, too. Because he’d made this fantastic woman smile like that. Because this incredible woman loved him. Since they’d told each other how they felt in the fall—that magic yet heavy L word—he usually glorified in that. And if he said he hadn’t started to wonder if a future together with her was something he wanted to work toward, he’d be lying to himself. He had. Just recently.
Now, suddenly, he was running away from her, fast and hard. Like he couldn’t get enough air, or space.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He grunted and rolled over again. The glowing numbers on his clock seemed to taunt him. Almost three A.M. He had to be at work at eight-thirty. Maybe he’d call in sick. All he knew was . . . he didn’t know what the hell his problem was. He just needed to be left alone. By everyone. Even Shari.
Especially Shari.
SHARI WASN’T NECESSARILY avoiding Evan, but she wasn’t seeking him out, either. She didn’t get her coffee at the Starbucks on the corner by the office, where she often bumped into him in the morning. She didn’t find an excuse to be on his floor, near his corner, as she sometimes did. He’d pull her into his small office, close the door, and kiss her senseless for a few hot minutes . . . stolen kisses that kept her satisfied and happy for hours afterward. And she hadn’t tried to contact him, in any way. No phone call, e-mail, text, Facebook message, nothing.
She hadn’t heard from him, either.
And with each passing half hour, the knot in her chest expanded a little. She buried herself in her work, grateful for the distraction.
Finally, at eleven-thirty, her phone pinged with a text from Evan. Hi.
She glared at the screen. Hi? That was it? She could already feel her blood pressure rising. Why, he . . . She took a deep breath, exhaled it hard, and typed back, Hi.
How are you? he texted.
Not so great, she typed, then quickly deleted it and wrote, Fine. You?
Off kilter. I got to work a little late today, he wrote. Didn’t sleep well last night. Then I overslept.
She frowned at that. Evan was never late to work and never overslept. Not to mention that she’d slept horribly, thinking back on the evening over and over as she tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Finally she wrote back, That’s not like you.
Well, I’m not feeling much like me right now, he texted.
Her stomach did a nauseous flip. Are you okay? she wrote. She couldn’t help herself. She was concerned, and she loved him. Even if she was upset, if something was really wrong with him, she wanted to help. To support him.
Let’s talk over dinner, Evan responded. You free?
She swallowed hard. Her whole body was already buzzing with adrenaline, a nauseating mixture of apprehension and dread. No way could she stay like this, wondering and speculating, until dinner time. Actually, I’m not, she texted back. Working late. How about lunch instead?
He didn’t answer right away. Then he texted, Okay. Meet me at Scarpelli’s at one?
Sure. See you there.
Shari sat back in her chair, staring at her phone where it lay on her desk. Why did she have a sinking feeling she was about to get dumped?
EVAN READJUSTED HIS tie again as he waited for Shari. She was always on time, but today she was ten minutes late. Was she punishing him somehow? It was possible. It’s not like she didn’t know the place; they’d shared many meals there, usually holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes like moony kids.
He saw her enter the restaurant and immediately knew there’d be no moony-eyed looks today. Her whole body seemed rigid as she approached him. His eyes raked over her, taking in her black pantsuit, royal blue silk blouse—he liked when she wore blue, it set off her eyes—and those sexy heeled boots that always sent a little jolt of lust through him. Her hair was pulled back and up, which made her eyes seem bigger, even more compelling than usual, and they pinned him now. She wasn’t glad to see him. It was in her eyes, her body language, her posture. Dammit, she was on edge, and he knew it was his fault. He’d missed her, just seeing her confirmed that. But he still felt . . . off.
“You look nice,” he offered.
“Thanks.” She draped her coat over the back of her chair, then took a sip from her water glass. “So? You wanted to talk? Talk. I’m listening.”
Her cold tone and brusque words struck him like pelts of ice. He bristled. “Wow. That’s not the nicest way to begin a conversation. With an attitude.”
“Say whatever you need to say, Evan.” Her gaze was stern and steady.
“Fine. I just . . .” The words evaporated on his tongue. Did he really want to do this? “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Me, neither,” she grumbled.
“Because of me?”
“Yup. Go on.”
He sighed. “I don’t know why, but I . . . I got a little spooked last night.”
Her brows furrowed and she leaned in a bit. “About what?”
“You . . . us.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I love you. I do. But I . . . I think maybe I need some space. Just for a little while. Just until I figure out what the hell’s going on in my head.” He watched the color drain from her cheeks and felt like a total piece of shit. But he said quietly, “I’m sorry, Shari. I really am. But I think maybe we should stop seeing each other for a bit. I think that’d be best right now. For both of us.”