And her momma and dad had been beaming out.
It couldn’t hurt to pull that old picture out, she’d told herself. It was just a nice memory. But placing that picture where she could see it had her thinking.
Hell, Avery and Liam had her thinking.
What if they could start over?
“How long did it take you after Brandon died to want to try again?” The question was out before she could really think it through, and she wished immediately that she could take it back. It was rude. It was intrusive. “I am so sorry. We’re not in a therapy session. That was uncalled for.”
Avery reached out again. Eve got the feeling she would just keep right on trying even after Eve pushed her away, so she should just give in, let Avery hold her hand. “Hey, I know you’re a professional, but you should remember that sometimes friends are therapy, too. And it was a long time. I had a lot to work through. I had a lot of rage and anger and bitterness.”
Somehow she couldn’t see Avery being bitter for a second.
Avery seemed to sense what she was thinking. “Hey, I’m human, too. I hated the world for a while, but one day I woke up and I realized I didn’t want to live my life that way. I had to make a choice. I could be angry about the past or I could try to find a future. It sounds simple.”
Eve shook her head, surprised at how emotional she was getting. She never cried, but the tears were right there, threatening and somehow sweet. “No. It’s not simple at all.”
It was a decision she had yet to make.
“A divorce can be like a death,” Avery said gently.
Eve took a long breath. “It wasn’t the divorce that hurt me. I mean, it did, but something else happened and I don’t think I’ve gotten over it.” That was a lie. She knew damn well she hadn’t gotten over it. “I’ve done all the therapy, but I’m just now starting to think that I want to move on with my life.”
Her grieving process had been long and painful for them both, but she was finally at the point where she might be able to accept that Alex had changed. He’d been so distant after Michael Evans had nearly killed her. He’d said all the right things. He’d told her he loved her and that nothing had changed, but he’d left her alone when she needed him most. He’d gotten obsessed with revenge.
“I need to make a choice. I need to try again or let Alex go.” Saying it out loud was a huge weight off her chest. God, she actually felt lighter.
“Are you joking, Evie?” Liam asked. Damn. She hadn’t heard him return. He slid into the booth, placing his hand over Avery’s and hers, lending his support. “Because you can’t imagine how much better we would all feel if you were serious. I worry about you, girl.”
It had been years since she’d led a real therapy session. Not since her college days. She’d left counseling for profiling, but she hadn’t forgotten one truth about therapy. Sometimes it took the right words to reach a person. A therapist could say the same thing a hundred different ways, but only one of them would reach inside the subject and plant a seed. It was why a therapist shouldn’t give up.
She thought about her wedding day picture. What did she owe that girl in the picture? What did she owe the Eve she had been? What did she owe her parents, who still loved her?
What did she owe the husband she’d loved from the moment she’d met him?
“I want to try. Li, do you think you could help me with something? I want to surprise Alex at Sanctum tonight. I think I might want to renegotiate that contract of ours.”
Liam smiled and promised to help as the waitress brought their food.
Avery, who had promised she didn’t want bacon, stole her husband’s.
And Eve thought about the future with a smile on her face for once.
Chapter Two
Alex looked around the space, trying to judge just how many ways he could get screwed here. The sun gleamed into the elegantly appointed mall. NorthPark Center was a testament to Texans’ love of all things shiny. It was exactly the type of place Eve used to adore when they couldn’t afford to buy a damn thing. They would browse through stores like Versace and Gucci, and she would complain about her weight. He would point out that they couldn’t afford the clothes anyway and then feed her a cupcake because she loved chocolate and he loved her every curve. She was thin now, and she dressed beautifully, but she never smiled. Naturally, now that he could afford just about anything, she wouldn’t accept a gift from him.
Alex glanced around the large walkway that had been designated as his meet spot. He didn’t like it. There were too many ways in and out. He counted at least seven ways a person could come up on his back. Two of the stores in this section had both interior and exterior exits. Of course someone might notice an armed crazy walking through Williams-Sonoma or Tiffany. And hell, he had the ducks to protect him. He was standing by an interior duck pond, waiting on intel about the most dangerous man he knew.
What the fuck was he doing? He should walk away. If he met with this contact, one of two things would happen. Either she would be working for Evans and he was screwed, or she was on the up and up and he would be drawn right back into the world that had cost him his marriage. He knew it all intellectually and yet he stood there, watching and waiting.
A little girl was squatting down not five feet away from him, her big blue eyes studying the small ducks who called this indoor pool their home. Her mother was talking on a cell phone as she twirled her multitudinous shopping bags around and complained about her latest round of Botox. As far as Alex could tell, she shouldn’t complain. The Botox was totally working. Her expression never once changed even as she bitched about her nanny requiring a day off to attend a funeral. Welcome to the wealthy side of Dallas.
He glanced to his right. Neiman Marcus was up ahead. To his left was a long line of shops and not a single sign of his contact. He was stuck here with Momma Frozen Forehead, a young woman in a suit and nametag eating her lunch, and two dudes in smart suits showing each other what they’d bought at Brooks Brothers.
Fifteen minutes. He’d been waiting for fifteen minutes, and now all he could think about was the cake pop stand near the exit. Eve would love that. They used to joke about food on a stick. Everything was better when it was on a stick. Now she just ate yogurt and salads. Her eyes never lit up over a salad.
Ian was right. His head wasn’t in a good place for this. Five more minutes and he would call it fate.