hardheaded,” I huffed. “Let’s move you over here.”
I wrapped my arms around her petite frame and gently led her to the sofa in the living room, taking a seat next to her just in case.
“I need you to tell me if you have to throw up, okay?” I said, eyeing the creamy, Italian-silk-covered sofa behind her.
Evie laughed, burrowing herself deep into the smooth, downy cushions and making herself comfortable. Her glassy blue eyes sparkled against the twinkling city lights that shined in from the windows behind her.
“I could never get sick of this view,” she said, her drunken stupor quickly replaced with a seriousness and an undeniably dreamy tenor. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Evie sat up and wiped a stray tear that had formed in her eye before brushing her dark hair from her pretty face.
“I’m sorry I drank so much,” she said, hanging her head. The wine was apparently beginning to wear off.
“I get it,” I said.
She lifted her eyes to meet mine, the moonlight washing over her face and exposing every ounce of her vulnerability.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked with an amused chuckle.
“God, you look so much like him.” She bit her bottom lip as she stared into my soul.
Her hair fell into her face once more, and I reached up to move it out of the way as Evie parted her lips and reached her hand up to cover mine as it rested near her cheek.
“You’re a beautiful girl, Evie,” I nearly whispered. “Julian was very lucky to have had you in his life.”
I leaned away, the intense, magnetic pull between us instantly vanishing into thin air as she sighed and hid her face.
“You should probably go to bed now,” I said. “It’s almost eleven. Let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help,” she said, struggling to pull herself up and gripping the edge of the couch for balance. Against her wishes, I followed her to my room, lightly holding the crook of her elbow.
I switched on the dim lamp by the bedside and pulled back the blankets, tossing off decorative pillow after decorative pillow. And I tried not to watch as Evie unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off before peeling off her creamy silk blouse and leaving nothing but a thin camisole and panties. She climbed under the covers, and I took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“I feel like I should be reading you a story, or something,” I joked.
“I’ve always loved Little Red Riding Hood ,” she teased. “You know, a big bad wolf pretending to be someone he’s not.”
The irony of her words were not lost on me. If only she knew.
“You know, I’m not really tired yet,” she said. “I mean, I am, but I always have a hard time sleeping in strange places. Will you stay and talk to me until I fall asleep?”
“What do you want to talk about?” I asked her.
She bit her lip, her eyes widening. “Tell me about Jamison.”
I laughed. “Seriously? You’re not going to let that drop, are you?”
She shook her head and fell back into the pillows, rolling to her side and propping herself up on her elbow.
“Um, okay,” I said. “He’s a doctor. Neurology. And he lives in New York. He’s in his early thirties. He, too, was ex-communicated from the family after college. We don’t really talk much.”
“Why did he get ex-communicated?”
“That, my curious Evie, is a story for another day.”
“Then why are you two estranged? You’re both adults now.”
“We’re not really estranged,” I said, searching for words to define my relationship with Jamison. “We just sort of lost touch over the years. Not hard to do, in our family.”
“So, did Caroline try to pay Jamison’s girlfriend off too?” Evie huffed.
“What are you talking about?”
“She tried to pay me seventy-five thousand dollars never to speak to Julian again.”
“Wow,” I said, wrapping my head around that. “Wasn’t aware of that fun fact.” Just another piece of the puzzle. So far, the picture my mother
I wrapped my arms around her petite frame and gently led her to the sofa in the living room, taking a seat next to her just in case.
“I need you to tell me if you have to throw up, okay?” I said, eyeing the creamy, Italian-silk-covered sofa behind her.
Evie laughed, burrowing herself deep into the smooth, downy cushions and making herself comfortable. Her glassy blue eyes sparkled against the twinkling city lights that shined in from the windows behind her.
“I could never get sick of this view,” she said, her drunken stupor quickly replaced with a seriousness and an undeniably dreamy tenor. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Evie sat up and wiped a stray tear that had formed in her eye before brushing her dark hair from her pretty face.
“I’m sorry I drank so much,” she said, hanging her head. The wine was apparently beginning to wear off.
“I get it,” I said.
She lifted her eyes to meet mine, the moonlight washing over her face and exposing every ounce of her vulnerability.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked with an amused chuckle.
“God, you look so much like him.” She bit her bottom lip as she stared into my soul.
Her hair fell into her face once more, and I reached up to move it out of the way as Evie parted her lips and reached her hand up to cover mine as it rested near her cheek.
“You’re a beautiful girl, Evie,” I nearly whispered. “Julian was very lucky to have had you in his life.”
I leaned away, the intense, magnetic pull between us instantly vanishing into thin air as she sighed and hid her face.
“You should probably go to bed now,” I said. “It’s almost eleven. Let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help,” she said, struggling to pull herself up and gripping the edge of the couch for balance. Against her wishes, I followed her to my room, lightly holding the crook of her elbow.
I switched on the dim lamp by the bedside and pulled back the blankets, tossing off decorative pillow after decorative pillow. And I tried not to watch as Evie unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off before peeling off her creamy silk blouse and leaving nothing but a thin camisole and panties. She climbed under the covers, and I took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“I feel like I should be reading you a story, or something,” I joked.
“I’ve always loved Little Red Riding Hood ,” she teased. “You know, a big bad wolf pretending to be someone he’s not.”
The irony of her words were not lost on me. If only she knew.
“You know, I’m not really tired yet,” she said. “I mean, I am, but I always have a hard time sleeping in strange places. Will you stay and talk to me until I fall asleep?”
“What do you want to talk about?” I asked her.
She bit her lip, her eyes widening. “Tell me about Jamison.”
I laughed. “Seriously? You’re not going to let that drop, are you?”
She shook her head and fell back into the pillows, rolling to her side and propping herself up on her elbow.
“Um, okay,” I said. “He’s a doctor. Neurology. And he lives in New York. He’s in his early thirties. He, too, was ex-communicated from the family after college. We don’t really talk much.”
“Why did he get ex-communicated?”
“That, my curious Evie, is a story for another day.”
“Then why are you two estranged? You’re both adults now.”
“We’re not really estranged,” I said, searching for words to define my relationship with Jamison. “We just sort of lost touch over the years. Not hard to do, in our family.”
“So, did Caroline try to pay Jamison’s girlfriend off too?” Evie huffed.
“What are you talking about?”
“She tried to pay me seventy-five thousand dollars never to speak to Julian again.”
“Wow,” I said, wrapping my head around that. “Wasn’t aware of that fun fact.” Just another piece of the puzzle. So far, the picture my mother
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