Evie
Being with Tilly meant everything was different; yet it also meant that nothing was. Touching Tilly, kissing her, waking up with their skin flush together, even though it was far too hot to do so still—all of that was a novelty. To be able to snag Tilly’s shirt when Tilly got up from the couch to get something from the kitchen and tug her down for a kiss was something Evie took advantage of constantly. In those moments, it would be something short, quick. A peck on the lips.
No need for more right then, because she could do it whenever she wanted.
Evie would press Tilly to the wall in the hallway as often as she could—both of them laughing at how much adjustment it took around her belly—and kiss her until they were both breathless. In the shower, Evie would let Tilly kiss her until the water ran cold and guilt prickled at her that they were in the middle of a drought and should really not waste water like that. When cooking, Evie would pull Tilly to her as Evie sat on the bench, watching her cook. She’d tug her between her legs and try to hook her ankles behind her and they’d smile into kisses that were half-giggles, half-passion.
The biggest difference was it felt solid. Permanent.
“Like you trust she’s not going anywhere?” Sean asked her on their lunch break, while they scoffed burgers in their usual blue and white café, the ocean heaving on the beach out their window. The wind had picked up, and the water was dotted with kite surfers, their sails all different colours as they zoomed through the water faster than seemed safe. It was slightly cooler than previous weeks, a hint the seasons could finally be turning.
Evie shrugged, already passing her tomato from her burger to Sean. “Yeah. And that’s new.”
He chewed slowly, eyeing her. “That is.”
“Come on, Sean, you can’t think she’s going to leave now.”
He put his burger down, grabbing a chip and dunking the entire thing in tomato sauce. “Weirdly, I don’t. It’s, like, she got her secret out there and things have, I don’t know, shifted?”
“Exactly.”
“And she got the job.”
“She did.”
“She starts in a few days, doesn’t she? Little Tilly. All grown up.”
“See? Not going anywhere.”
“Plus, she’s a total softie.” He grinned. “Like, puke levels of soft over you. Which she always was, but now she doesn’t even try to hide it.”
Evie couldn’t even stop the grin that took over her face. “She is not.”
“Oh my God, look at your smile. You’re both so gross. I remember when we’d just started uni. Tilly was all black clothes and eyeliner and harsh fringe and in your thrall, and you were all shy and bookish and had no idea. Now look at you.”
Leaning back in her chair, she winked. “Yeah. Who knew?”
This time, his smile was gentle. “Who knew?”
“Was she really like that when we met?”
The restaurant rattled along around them, the lunch rush picking up as people flooded in and out. Sean looked at her, as if assessing her. “Did you really not know?”
Evie shrugged. “No. I mean, I knew how I felt. But I hadn’t twigged properly to it either? And after she left, it scared me to be with someone who could leave and come back so suddenly. I really didn’t think she felt the same, either.”
Seconds ticked by, and Sean finally huffed a laugh. “You two were ridiculous. It was so obvious to me that you were into each other. I thought I was going to watch you two fall in love and I did, in a way. But then I watched while it took you forever to actually get together.”
“We saw other people. I don’t think it was as romantic as you’re making it sound.”
“You saw other people. Tilly kind of did. But really?” He eyed her. “Tilly never stopped being in love with you. It was all over her.”
His eyes were soft and open, and Evie struggled on what to say, words catching in her throat. “I really didn’t know.”
“And that’s okay. She wanted you happy. She was more than good having you in her life at all, I think. And the two of you just always, revolved around each other. And look!” He gave a grin. “You finally collided.”
“Oops,” she said.
“Oops.” And he winked at her.
* * *
Keys turned in the lock and Evie straightened on the couch to stare at Tilly as she entered.
“So?” Evie would have bounced, but gravity was a little against her these days. “How was the first day?”
Tilly gave her a smile and sat down next to her. She dropped a kiss on Evie’s lips before pulling her legs up under her and swinging her body to face her fully, her arm along the back of the couch. “It was good. Weird. I went to three meetings which were just us throwing ideas around. They liked some of mine. I got a small assignment. I wore the pants you told me to.”
Evie grinned. “I saw when you left the bedroom this morning.”
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“Dozing. I had to pee. Again. And the pants cupped your butt so well I had to see.”
Tilly rolled her eyes. “How’s the peeing situation?”
“Tilly.” Evie dropped her smile and spoke deadly seriously. “Tilly.” She raised her hands and cupped Tilly’s cheeks and brought their faces close, staring her right in the face. “Tilly.”
“That bad?”
“I have peed four times in the last two hours, Tilly. And I need to go again.”
Tilly bit back a laugh. She pulled Evie’s hands from her face, but kept them together on her lap, covered with her own. “It’s training. For when the baby comes and you have to be used to getting up constantly.”
“I don’t wanna.” Evie pouted.
Tilly snorted. “Well, that may be a little late to have figured out.”
“Will you help me?” Evie made sure she sounded super whiny, a catch of genuine concern under it.
Tilly leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Evie’s. “I will.”
Evie let out a slow breath, closing her eyes and letting the moment hang for a beat. “Good. Because I’m super attached to you now, so it would be really awkward if you went anywhere.”
And it would be.
But Tilly wasn’t going to.
Evie felt it in her bones, as much as before she’d known Tilly would go at some point.
“Oh! I just remembered.” Evie pulled away. “I cooked for dinner with my mum today.”
Tilly raised her eyebrows.
“I did!”
Those eyebrows went higher.
“Okay, fine, I ordered Uber Eats and it will arrive five minutes before my mum is due to get here and we can pretend I made it.”
“That sounds right.”
“I could have cooked.” Evie crossed her arms. “If you look at me like that any longer, you’re gonna strain your forehead.” Tilly didn’t change her expression. “That’s it, I’m leaving to pee.”
Unfortunately, heaving herself off the couch left her with no dignity to storm away haughtily with, but she clutched the shredded remains around her like the world’s worst cloak and went to the bathroom with her head held high.
Tilly’s snicker did nothing to bring her down.
They spent the next hour with Tilly trying to shower before dinner and Evie not helping much by distracting Tilly while she showered, then tidying a little before Evie’s mum arrived. Fifteen minutes before the food was due, there was a knock at the door. Evie stopped wiping the kitchen bench down and looked at Tilly, who was putting the broom away.
“Oh no. Is my mum early?”
Tilly smirked. “Yup.”
“But she’ll see the food arrive and know I didn’t cook.”
“Evie, you know I love you and think you’re great. But she was never going to believe you’d cooked.”
She threw the dishcloth at Tilly, who managed to duck. Evie poked her tongue out at her and stalked to the front door.
“Mum!”
“Oh, look at you!” Her mum pulled her into a hug, then pulled away and put her hands all over Evie’s stomach like everyone was wont to do these days. At least her mum was allowed to. An old work acquaintance in the shops the day before had put his hands on her stomach as if he were entitled. Evie had put an end to that very quickly. When it first started, she’d grinned and bore it. Not anymore.
“Oh.” Was her mum tearing up? “You look so beautiful. What are you now? Seven months? Over that, no? It’s the middle of February? Oh, you’re so close.”
Her mum was definitely tearing up. She looked up from staring at Evie’s belly with big red eyes.
Oh no, now Evie was welling up. Peeing and tears. Her life at the moment. “Mum. Stop.”
Her mum gave a thick chuckle. “Sorry. I can’t help it. I’ll try to stop.” She held up a shopping bag. “I brought more of the multivitamins you told me they had you on, and also some little onesies. And some of the cheese you love and are allowed to eat. Seriously. Calcium.”
“Thanks, Mum.” Taking the bag her mum held out, Evie stood aside to let her in, who bustled past her with a container full of what Evie had been promised was cake.
“Hi, Lin.” Tilly smiled. She was nervous, tugging at the length of her shirt, her smile a little tight. It was the first time she was seeing Evie’s mum since Evie and Tilly had got together.
“Hello, Tilly.”
Evie’s mum pulled her into a tight hug and held it a little longer than she probably normally would have, swaying Tilly slightly. The smile Tilly gave over her shoulder was relieved.
Evie’s mum pulled back, patting a hand on Tilly’s cheek. “You look well.”
Tilly’s smile softened. “I am.”
“You and Evie are good for each other.”
The breath Tilly let out was shuddering. “Thank you.”
“Hurt her and I’ll show you what I’ve learned from watching that show about how murderers get away with it.”
Tilly gave a startled laugh. “Fair enough.”
“Glad we understand each other,” her mum whispered conspiratorially.
“Evie ordered Uber Eats and was going to pass it off as her own cooking,” Tilly whispered back, her grin so huge it could only be called shit-eating.
“Of course she did.”
Evie threw up her hands and, again, stalked away, this time into the kitchen. “You two are awful.”
Their laughter was the only answer.
Their food arrived, and they sat outside where there was enough room for all of them. Tilly told them more about her first day at work as she ate.
“Your colleagues are at least nice?” Evie asked.
“They seem fine. A few seem more than fine. And the boss doesn’t give douche vibes.”
“I’ve always found ‘douche’ a funny insult,” Evie’s mum said. “Didn’t exist in my day.”
“Do you not like it?” Tilly asked.
“I love it. It can be a great way to describe a boss.”
Tilly chuckled and Evie’s mum winked at her.
“Oh! Evie, is the baby’s room all set up?” her mum asked.
Evie winced.
Her mum’s fork paused. “Well, I mean, obviously ‘all set up’ is a lot, but do you have the basics? Cot? Changing table? Bath?”
Evie adamantly avoided her mum’s gaze, skewering some steak on her fork. “Um…”
“That’s a no,” Tilly supplied.
“It’s not!” Evie said. “I put up some bird stickers. They look super cute.”
“And the other things I mentioned?” her mum asked. “The things that are, you know, useful. More so than stickers.”
“I’m getting there.”
Tilly just looked at her. “So, all that stuff is in the room?”
“Um…”
“None of it?” Evie’s mum asked. “Well, that’s not like you. How much in denial are you?”
Tilly covered her laugh with a cough.
“I sold the bed that was in there and it was picked up last week?” Evie tried.
“Well, Evie, that’s removing things. Which is great, but I’m asking about adding things.”
“Yes, Mum, thank you.”
Her mum smothered her grin behind a sip from her water glass. “Well,” she said once she’d put it down, “can I buy the cot? I saw a gorgeous one and unless it’s something you wanted to buy yourself, I’d love to get you one as a gift.”
“That would be amazing,” Evie said.
Tilly snorted. “You just don’t want to go back to that store.”
“It’s true.”
“Got overwhelmed?” her mum asked.
“Yes!” Evie leaned back in her chair. “There were so many options and so much of it was excessive and I thought I had heaps of time but out of nowhere I’m due in, like, six weeks. Which makes sense because I feel like I’ve been pregnant for fifty-five years but still seems so quick now.”
Her mum leaned over and put her hand over Evie’s. “I know, it feels like years. Then out of nowhere, it’s flown by. I’ll help.” Her mum gave Tilly a meaningful glance.
“Hey, I’ve offered to go with her, to go for her, to shop online with her or for her, and she keeps putting it off regardless.”
“It’s true,” Evie said. She pouted at her mum. “Help me.”
Tilly choked a laugh and Evie’s mum rolled her eyes. “Procrastinator to the core.”
“That’s me.”
“Maybe the three of us could go?” Evie’s mum asked.
“Sounds good,” Evie said. She hesitated, unsure if this were something she should broach. “Maybe we could ask Luke to come?”
“Sure. It’d be good to have him involved,” her mum said.
Tilly shrugged. “If he wants to, that’s fine with me.”
“He’s been messaging, and we met again to talk about how to organise…well, everything. Maybe he’ll want to come to buy something. Once the baby is a little bigger, it’ll stay with him sometimes.”
Her mum made a face. “How is this going to work?”
Evie shrugged. “We don’t know, Mum. But he wants to be involved and his family is supportive and he’s the dad. We’re going to figure it out as we go, basically.” Her mum opened her mouth and Evie rushed to continue. “Which we know doesn’t sound like a plan. But how it will work when the baby is born will be different in six months, and then a year, and then two years. So we’re making short-term plans. When it’s tiny, Luke’s mostly going to come here. Once the baby’s a little bigger, he’ll have the baby overnight sometimes. We’ll reassess as things keep going.”
“Okay,” her mum said.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. It’s all very modern. I love it.”
Tilly laughed again, reaching for her water. “You’re the best.”
“I do try.”
A knock on the door sounded out, loud and insistent. They all looked at each other.
“Evie!”
Evie was already standing as Tilly said, “Is that Sean?”
Evie walked through the back screen door, through the lounge room, and opened the front door. Sean burst in, a whirlwind, Cal being dragged behind with their eyebrows reaching their hairline. “You will not believe what the fu—” He stopped dead at the sight of Lin and Tilly seated with dinner out the back, both staring at him in bemusement. Cal almost ran straight into his back. He raised his voice. “I didn’t know you were having dinner. Sorry. Hi, Lin.”
“Cal! Sean!” Evie’s mum waved at him. “Please come in, tell us what the fuck we won’t believe happened?”
Tilly laughed and Sean came through, grabbing a chair from outside for him and Cal to sit down on, Evie following him.
“What’s happened?” she asked Cal.
Cal shrugged. “He won’t tell me. He insisted we all be together.”
They all looked at Sean, who sat straight, slapping his hands on his thighs. “Well! Backstory for Lin.” He turned to Lin. “We have a thief at work, officially called The—”
“The Fridge Poacher. Yes, Evie told me.”
“Oh.” He looked crestfallen at not getting to fill her in on the dramatics. Cal pressed down a smile. “Good. So! We all suspected Erica, right?” He looked from one to the other, and they all nodded—Lin with less assuredness. “My pavlova went missing today!”
Lin gasped.
“Thank you, Lin. I knew you’d understand. I saw that and was immediately irate. I went to Erica’s office to check for clues—I even had a great cover, a question about a case we’re sharing. But! There was nothing. No sign of pavlova in there. Maybe she’d hidden it?”
Tilly finished munching on some bread. “Had she?”
Evie shared a smirk with Cal—Tilly had been more intrigued by this story than any of them, deep down. Though to be fair, Lin was staring avidly at Sean.
“Not that I could see! I even managed to get her to lend me a folder I knew was in one of her drawers, and didn’t see hide nor hair of it when she rummaged around to find the folder.”
“Maybe she’d already eaten it?” Evie asked.
Oh no. She was more intrigued by this than she pretended, too.
“A possibility, but I’d seen my pavlova in the fridge only ten minutes before I discovered it missing.”
“How often, exactly, have you been checking your food?” Cal asked.
Sean deflated a little, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I will admit, more than is normal. But! It worked! I discovered the truth!”
“You just said Erica didn’t have it.” Lin leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“Exactly. Thank you for paying attention. Except, then, I saw a container in her bin in the corner. It looked just like the one I’d put my pavlova in.”
“So you confronted her?” Cal asked.
“Don’t be absurd, I ran to tell Colin.”
“And then the two of you confronted her?” Evie asked.
Sean paused, very dramatically, looking from one to the other. “So. I walk through to Colin’s office to rant at him. I burst through his door. Which was very unprofessional in hindsight, I realise; he could have been with a client. And…” Another pause. More eye contact with everyone there. “Colin was sitting, feet up on his table, eating my pavlova!”
Sean sat triumphantly, staring at them.
All four gasped theatrically.
“It was Colin this whole time?” Tilly asked, hand over her heart.
“I never saw it coming!” Evie said.
“Bloody Colin,” Lin chimed in.
“Said it from the start,” Cal added.
“Right? He’s been setting up Erica this whole time: apparently, and I had no idea, they have an ongoing feud back from university. Something about always tying for top grades.”
“And that made it okay to steal everyone’s lunches?” Tilly raised an eyebrow.
“Look, us lawyers are weird.”
“What did you say?” Lin asked.
“Well, I just gaped at him for a bit. He gaped at me. The pavlova on his fork dropped to his plate with a splat. Then he kind of grinned and said that he’d been caught red-handed.” Sean leaned forward to grab a piece of cucumber from Evie’s plate. “He’s promised to buy me lunch every week for the next few months.”
“Sure he won’t buy it for you and then just steal it?” Evie asked.
“No, to be honest. So he’s signed a contract I personally wrote.”
“He signed it?” Cal asked with a laugh.
“He did! It has clauses that cover: a deep apology for defaming Erica, which includes doing some of the worst of her paperwork, and one about admitting he is a lunch-thieving butthead, out loud, at least once a week, for the next four months, in front of Erica or myself, and must include another co-worker.”
“No?” Tilly said.
He nodded, biting victoriously into the stick of cucumber. “Yes!”
Cal laughed. “Do you really think he’ll do it?”
“I don’t know, but I get some damn good lunches and Erica is no longer a suspect.”
“Mystery solved,” Tilly said. “Feel better?”
His shoulders slumped. “Well, yeah. But I won’t lie; now it’s over, what other gossip can I live for in the office?”
“Someone will start taking your favourite pen, don’t worry.” Lin handed him a container of food they’d ordered. “There’s always something.”
He perked up. “You think?”
“Definitely.”
Later that evening, Evie stared up at the ceiling as she lay in bed.
“You okay?” Tilly asked quietly. The lights were off and Tilly was a soft blur in the dark.
“This is just…a lot.”
Tilly shuffled closer, sliding a hand over Evie’s belly and pressing her front into Evie’s side. “It is.”
She was warm and soft and Evie’s tense muscles eased a little. Tilly’s touch was so familiar. But so new at the same time. “It’s like Mum said, there’s always something. The baby will be here soon,” Evie whispered. And it would be, so soon. “There’s so much to organise. And I have no idea how to look after a baby. You and I are so new. Luke has to fit into all of this. And…”
Tilly lay quiet next to her, her thumb rubbing gently against the skin above Evie’s belly button, her breathing soft and even. No pushing her to talk, only waiting for her to speak. The baby rolled a little and Evie could feel, more than see, Tilly’s soft smile in response.
Finally, Evie took in a breath and let it out slowly. She could say this. “And I think I should speak to my dad.”
And saying that, for some reason, tightened her throat, grew a lump in it that made the words choke out. Her eyes were full of tears and spilled quickly. She cried so easily at the moment. But these tears were different. They spilled from a pain rooted deep within her.
Tilly pressed, impossibly, even closer, until her face was against the side of Evie’s, her nose against her cheek and forehead above her ear. Her arm slid around her, holding Evie as close as she could, and her embrace was holding Evie together. “You’re allowed to want to talk to him. Or not,” Tilly whispered.
“I feel like, like…” Evie’s voice was a hoarse whisper in the dark. “Like I’m betraying nine-year-old me by seeing him. And like I’m betraying my mum. And not because she wouldn’t want me to see him. Nothing like that.” Evie slid her hand along Tilly’s forearm, gripping her elbow, pulling her against her even more. She turned her head a little. “But I…feel like I would be, if I talked to him. And I don’t even know if I want to talk to him. Or forgive him. But I also don’t want to regret not doing so.”
Tilly brushed her lips into Evie’s hair. “If you decide to talk to him, I’ll come with you if you want. Or be waiting with chocolate when you get back.”
That was everything Evie needed to hear.
She shifted as much as she could, bringing her hand up to run her fingers over the softness of Tilly’s cheeks, to cup her jaw and guide their lips together. There was need and desperation in Evie’s kiss, she knew. And Tilly, as always, met her halfway and pressed back, swallowing her gasp and drawing more from her.
* * *
There was no time to think about anything but work, since Evie was having the busiest day. She was required to call in to a flat with two residents who might need an increase in support. There had been some concerns they weren’t eating dinner, and Evie was best suited to do the reassessment. Her recommendations were for a substantial increase in support, from having someone stopping in morning and afternoon to help with household tasks, to needing someone to stay a full afternoon and evening shift. The detailed report was submitted to Rob for approval, and Evie arranged for a carer to drop by around dinner time for the next few days, just to make sure the two men were eating.
Maternity leave was looming and that meant a lot of paperwork needed to be put in order before she left. And a lot of paperwork meant a lot of phone calls, all of which thankfully kept her distracted.
But the work day had to end sometime and she finally left the office, palms clammy with nerves.
The pub was one that Evie didn’t frequent. That had been a deliberate choice. If things went awfully, she would never have to go there again and the experience wouldn’t ruin a beloved local. There was nothing particularly special about this pub. The cricket was on the television above the bar, thankfully muted. She stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at the corner table where he sat, a pint on the table in front of him and one opposite.
Her father hadn’t looked up, his eyes glued to his glass, so far untouched. Something twisted in her belly, the baby kicking immediately in response. When he’d left, Evie remembered him with deep rich brown hair and laugh lines around his eyes. Tall. Big. Encompassing.
He seemed small. Old. A little defeated. His hair was mostly grey now, lines all over his face.
He’d bought a pint and left it ready for her, hopeful she’d come. A pint she couldn’t even drink, not that he’d know. Her stomach twisted again; the baby kicked again. Irritation spiked in her when she realised it was sympathy for him. A little guilt, too. Because she was considering turning and walking out.
Much like he had over twenty years ago.
She owed him nothing.
Still, she took a step forward, and when she was halfway to the table, he looked up and froze at the sight of her. Panic caught in her chest, and she wanted to stop. To turn. To leave. The baby rolled, and Evie put a hand over her belly, under her belly button, and left it there. Comforting herself or the baby, she wasn’t sure. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t turn to leave. She kept walking until she stood at the table.
His chair scraped as he stood up quickly, like someone would when a queen entered. An old dash of chivalry.
She hadn’t noticed when he was at her door on New Year’s, but they stood almost eye to eye, now.
“Evelyn.”
“Just Evie.”
He scratched behind his ear. “Of course. Evie. You—” His eyes dropped to her belly. “I—I didn’t know you were pregnant.”
She licked her lips, suddenly so dry. “Yeah. I’m due in five weeks.”
“I—that’s wonderful. Congratulations.” He smiled, and it was a fragile thing. It hurt to look at.
“Thanks.”
A flush crawled up his neck and into his cheeks. “I—I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want a beer. I’m sorry. I, well…remembered when you were little, you’d always want a taste of mine. And I always said, one day. And I thought…nothing, I thought nothing.” That smile he had could be about to shatter.
Something ached in Evie she couldn’t name.
“What would you like?” he asked. “I’ll order it for you.”
“A water would be great, to be honest.”
He left to the bar, leaving Evie behind, torn on how to feel. The baby kicked against her hand and it reminded her to breathe. To sit. To take her time. She slung her bag over the back of the chair and slid the pint he’d bought for her over next to his.
This was too weird.
He came back quickly, putting the glass of iced water down in front of her and sitting down. His gaze was heavy, and everything about his body language screamed how uncomfortable he was. It was as if he didn’t know how to sit. He gave an awkward nod, and “No problem,” at her thanks, and silence descended on the table rapidly, not chased away by the odd cheer that rose up from those watching the cricket.
“I’m glad you decided to meet,” he finally said. “Thank you.”
She gave her own awkward, weird nod, and picked up her water glass for something to do, taking a long sip. When she put the glass down far too hard, it hit the table with a hollow thud, water about to slosh over its sides. “I’m still not sure if I want to be here.”
“That’s okay.”
The silence fell again. Someone groaned in another corner of the pub and yelled abuse at the TV.
“Do you know if you’re having a girl or a boy?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t want to find out. Also, I don’t really love the whole pushing a gender onto the baby before it’s even formed thing.”
His eyebrows pressed together, looking a little lost and confused. “Oh.” A pause. “That makes sense.”
Silence.
“Is there—someone in the picture?” he asked, so tentative.
She didn’t know if she had the energy to explain her life to this man. “I’m seeing someone. She’s great.”
His eyebrows rose at the ‘she’ but nothing else, at least. “Good. Good, I’m glad she’s great.”
“Where are you—”
“What job—”
They stopped.
He gave her a rueful little smile. “You go.”
“I was going to ask where you’re living.”
“I have a house up in the hills, now.” He was referring to the part of Perth that was a good hour’s drive from the centre, surrounded by bush and trees and, unsurprisingly, in some hills.
“That must be nice,” she said. “Quiet.”
“It is. I’m working in landscaping, and I’m volunteering with the volunteer fire service, doing some clearing. I’ll work with them all year to try and prevent fires like this year’s.”
“Cool. Necessary. The East copped it terribly.”
He gesticulated with his hands, more comfortable in an area he knew. “It did. Doesn’t help that the fools in government keep cutting money to all the emergency services. Let alone trying to deny the drought’s related to climate change.”
“Were you fighting the fires in December?”
“I was. And it was a shit show. The only thing we can hope is that the bastards learned something.”
“Here’s hoping.”
Silence again.
“Ah—where are you working?” he asked.
Evie shifted in her seat, the wood biting into her tailbone, uncomfortable as she was so often these days: always too hot, every surface too soft or too hard. “I’m a team leader with an organisation that works with people with disabilities. Mostly community work. I studied Social Work.”
And that last sentence echoed around them. So weird, to be telling that to someone who was supposed to be her father, who would have known that, had he stuck around. Four years of her life at university shouldn’t be reduced to a simple throwaway line.
“That’s great. That’s, that’s really something.”
That’s something.
They were strangers. Completely. Utterly. She didn’t know this man.
“Why are you back?” she asked, the words tumbling out with more malice than she intended.
He straightened. Took a sip of his pint. Put the glass down, hands a little shaky. “I wanted to get to know you. Get to know my kids.”
“It’s been twenty years—more. Why now? Where did this come from?”
Floundering. That was the only word she could think of, watching him find an answer. “I have a lot of regrets, Evie. I don’t… I don’t expect you to just, miraculously want to know me. But I’m still going to try.”
“You left.” The words burst from her, like pressure built too long. “You left a wife, a nine year old, and a newborn baby. I had no idea where you’d gone, why you’d just, disappeared.” Her throat was tight. Too tight. She didn’t want to cry. “I blamed myself. I thought I’d not been good enough. I thought my brother had cried too much. One day you were there, always there, and the next you weren’t.”
His eyes were swimming, his cheeks red.
This was too much; she didn’t need this. She’d seen a therapist, had accepted this for what it was. But having him here, reliving what he’d put them through, allowed the resentment to rise up and surge through her. “I’m sorry.”
She made a face.
He pressed his lips tight together before continuing. “I know that’s not enough. I was selfish. I—I panicked, and was claustrophobic. I was… I was selfish. That’s it. It’s not an excuse. But maybe it’s an explanation. I thought it was better for you all, if I was gone, rather than in and out.”
“Did you really?” she spat out. “Really? You thought disappearing on a nine-year-old was best for them?” Floundering, still. Evie clenched her jaw, swallowing hard. Trying to swallow down that feeling in her throat. “I don’t know if I can forgive you for any of that.”
He laid his hands in his lap. “I know.”
“Do you really?”
“I do. As much as I wish it wasn’t all the truth of it. I do know that. I can’t change what I did. But I can try now.”
“And why now?” she asked. “Why now? After so long?”
He swallowed so heavily she could see the bob in his throat. So much like her brother when he was worried about something. Her brother looked a lot like him, really. “I thought about it a few years after I left. But then… I figured that you’d all have got used to it, that coming back would have made it worse.”
“Nice thing to tell yourself. Good excuse to not come back.”
He looked pained at that. Like she’d hit too close to the truth. “Maybe.”
“And then why now? We were all doing damn well without you now. How’d that excuse change?”
“It didn’t, I guess. Or I thought maybe, you were old enough now to cope. I wouldn’t be invading a teenager’s life. Or upending something. I don’t know…” He ran a hand through his hair, cupped the back of his neck and rubbed it. Sheepish. Pained. Lost. “I got old, I guess. And regret caught up with me.”
That burning in Evie’s throat was easing. The lump finally dissolving. She was still angry, under it all. She’d had too many years of hurt and trauma from this man up and disappearing from her life that felt stitched into her skin. It felt a part of her.
But she’d been learning a lot, about people. About the decisions they make, and how those decisions shape who they are years later, even when they’re not that person anymore. How Evie could have so very easily chosen not to keep the baby that was currently kicking and kicking at her hand. How Tilly had made a choice she’d let alter everything for over half of her life. How Evie’s mother had chosen to move on, and not sit with resentment towards this man. How her brother had no interest at all in having this man be part of his life, since he never had been at all. How her father had chosen to come back, and try.
How that didn’t fix anything, not remotely.
But that didn’t mean the Evie who Evie was now had to still sit in her own resentment.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever trust you again,” Evie said. “I don’t know if I even feel a need to have you in my life. You’ve been out of it longer than you were in it.”
He swallowed, but didn’t look away.
“But if you want, maybe after the baby is born, we can try this again. And maybe get to know each other, a little. I don’t know when I’ll want to. I want to focus on other things, right now. But maybe, after, we can—we can try.”
His shoulders pushed back, just a little. And his smile, still tenuous, held a little more strength. “That sounds more than fair.”
And it did, really. But maybe everyone deserves that, occasionally.