Good Intentions (Welcome to Paradise) (Volume 2) (28 page)

With her eyes straight ahead, she tries to sound nonchalant. “Is Evan going to visit you at school?”

“Oh, um. I’m not sure. He said he would, but I don’t want to put any added stress on him. He has enough of that as it is.”

“It’s not stressful to be with the one you love, honey.”

I look out the window and exhale a deep sigh. “I don’t want him to feel like I’m demanding anything from him. Everyone else is doing that—”

“That’s a part of growing up, Mallory. People have expectations and start relying on you. He’s going to be working and the business will rely on him. Why are you worried?”

“I’m worried by what this job and Manhattan will do to him. He didn’t want to go and I know he feels forced to be there.”

“He’s not being forced.” Her tone is sharp. “He’s doing what’s needed of him. He’s being responsible. I think it shows a lot about the kind of person he is. He’s a grown man and can take care of himself. You, my dear daughter need to focus on your studies.”

I rest my head against the window, watching as we pass by the landmarks that signal we’re getting close. Evan is a grown up. That just seems all wrong in my mind though. Not because I think he’s immature. Actually, I feel quite the opposite, but that if he’s a grown up and taking care of his responsibilities, what does that make me? Am I all grown up now, too? At what age do you officially ‘grow up?’

My heart feels heavy in my chest wondering if Evan will choose New York after having a taste of it again. Maybe he’ll choose to run the family business. He won’t need a degree to work there. His name is on the company stationary. These thoughts hit me, like a slap across the face, and I realize that there is a distinct possibility that I may never see him again.

I close my eyes and shake my head not wanting to let these twisted thoughts seep in. I knew if they did I would be headed for heartbreak and I’m not willing to go there… yet. I need to believe to get by. I believe in us and our love and will hold as tight as I can to that romantic notion.

My first impression of him echoes inside my head as we continue our drive in silence.
He told me not to rely on him, but to trust him. He told me not to rely on him, but to trust him. He told me not to rely on him, but to trust him.

But at the airport, he assured me that I can rely on him. Even without him confirming that I could, an epiphany hits me. I already do rely on him, in so many ways.

He changed his modus operandi for me. His whole identity was wrapped up in that spiel he gave me at the diner that first day and yet he didn’t use his tactics on me that night or any other night. I know in that moment that I will most definitely see him again even if I have to make it happen somehow.

He was ready for change, and this summer gave him the perfect storm to finally get his ass in gear and fight for what he loves and what he loves seems to be me.

I’m smiling to myself when I feel my mom’s hand on my arm.

“Mal, I can really see how in love you are with Evan.” She pauses, looking back at the road, returning her hand to the steering wheel. “I hope it works out the way you want.”

“I do too.”

My mom helps me unload the car and leaves right after hoping to beat rush hour traffic through Denver. Sarah’s not home yet, so I start unpacking. I unpack my iPod docking station first and get some music playing. That helps pass the time and distract my thoughts from all the ‘what-if’s’ that seem to be playing out in my head lately.

Two hours on the job and my room is looking the way I want. I stand back to admire, but a knock on the door interrupts me appreciating my work. I know Sarah isn’t due to arrive yet, so I stand up and shake out my cramped legs and peek through the peephole. I see a delivery man. Standing there, I’m unsure if I should answer or not until he says, “Delivery for Miss Mallory Wray.”

I unlock the door and open it wide. After signing for the package, I scurry back into the living room to open the large cardboard box. It’s heavy, but not unmanageable.

Grabbing my car key from the hook I hung up earlier next to the front door, I slice open the taped box. Styrofoam popcorn flies out as I lift the flaps, revealing a brand new laptop. I stare at it a minute, unsure if I should take it out or not. I close the flaps and look at the label again. Yes, it’s addressed to me, but it only says the computer company’s name as the return address, not who sent it. I lift the flaps open again and more of the packing popcorn comes out, landing on the floor and my lap.

I dig out the packing slip and read the message:

Dear Mallory,

I know you’re going to say you can’t accept this, but before you call me to say that, you should know that this laptop is more for me than you. I can’t go without seeing that beautiful face for too long and since your webcam is broken, I thought it only fitting that I replace it. It just so happens to come with a state of the art laptop attached to said camera.

Accept it, Mallory. It’s not a big deal, so stop debating whether you’re going to accept it or not and take it.

I love you, baby, and I expect you to webcam me tonight.

Love,

Evan

He knows me well. I was debating, but how can I deny him this gift. I giggle as I pull the laptop from the box. It’s so sleek and new, fancier than I’ve ever had before. He shouldn’t have done this, but he did, and I’m going to appreciate it.

I take it to my room and set it up on my desk. An hour later, the computer is all ready to go. I log onto Skype and type in: Evan Ashford, but he doesn’t answer.

He’s the first and only person I add into my contacts. Needing an avi picture, I step out of my comfort zone. I wink and lick the corner of my lips—my sad attempt at sexy—and the camera snaps. Checking out the results, I decide that even though it’s kind of embarrassing, it’s also kind of hot, so I keep it.

It’s funny what happens to your sanity when you pretend you’re not anxiously waiting for someone to call or email, text, or contact you in any form. I’m trying to play it cool, but it’s not working out so well.

Maybe he’s working. I rationalize like five hundred times in my head. Maybe he doesn’t Skype from the office. Maybe he’s out with his friends or his family. Maybe he’s too busy fucking someone else and doesn’t realize I pinged him. Maybe I’m losing my mind?
Yes! I’m losing my mind. That is the only logical answer right now.

A knock kicks me out of my crazy thoughts and I’m relieved to be saved by the bell… er, knock. I run to answer the front door and find Sarah, arms full of stuff, standing there.

“Mallory, I’m so glad to see you,” she says as I take two bags from her and she walks in.

I set them on the table and turn to face her as she sets her stuff down. We hug each other tight. “I missed you so much,” I say, squeezing her tight. Sarah is the polar opposite of Sunny. Where Sunny is outgoing, popular, and ambitious, Sarah is quiet, content, and happy where she is in life. They balance our friendship out nicely. Sarah and I came to the University of Colorado together and Sunny, always the more adventurous, headed for Hawaii.

“I missed you, too. I mean it was nice visiting my Gran in Tennessee, but there’s no place like home.”

“Where’s Josh?” I was surprised Sarah signed another lease with me because Josh, her longtime boyfriend, asked her to move in with him last spring and his apartment is much nicer than ours. She turned him down saying that her parents would kill her if she shacked up with him before marriage.

“He’s coming up with some of the heavier stuff from the car.” She takes me by the hand and pulls me over to the loveseat that comes with the apartment. “Loved the postcards, but I can’t wait for you to tell me all about Hawaii.”

“Two words will sum up my summer vacation: Evan. Ashford.”

She giggles as she rests her hands on mine all giddy for me. “So you met someone and made it official all in less than three months?”

“We did more than meet…”

“In the bedroom, Sarah? Hey, Mallory, good to see ya,” Josh says, walking past us with a large box.

Sarah stands, using my knee to help her up. “Can’t wait to hear more, but I guess I should help him out.”

“I can help,” I offer, walking down the steps of the apartment complex with her.

Two hours later, we’re eating pizza and drinking sodas on the couch. Josh is sitting on the floor and we’re all exhausted. The apartment is in pretty good shape and with classes starting in the morning, we thought it best to stop now and finish the rest of the unpacking over this first week back.

When I go to my bedroom and get ready for sleep around nine-thirty, I happen to notice a flashing Skype message is waiting.

Sorry I missed your first message on your new laptop today. I was having lunch with my dad and some of his associates. I’m glad you like the present and hope to put it to good use very soon, baby. I love you, Evan.

I jump online to see if he’s still on, but he’s not. I can’t help but feel disappointed. I’m so used to having him around all the time, talking about everything and nothing, but we’ve barely talked since he left for New York.

I pick up my phone and crawl into bed. Before I go to sleep, I send him a text.

I miss hearing your voice. Sweet dreams.

The lamp gets switched off as I set my phone on the nightstand. I roll onto my side, away from the phone, hoping it will help me forget about it and the wishful thinking I have that he’ll call, but it doesn’t. I toss and turn for hours never quite reaching that deep, restful sleep I need.

When sleep finally comes, I’m jolted awake by my phone ringing. I jump up automatically and answer without my mind fully coherent. “Hello!”

“Hi, baby, did I wake you?” Evan slurs into the phone.

Sitting up, I try to clear my foggy mind. “Evan, what time is it?” In the dark room I look over at my alarm clock. It’s after midnight.

“I dunno.”

By the loud music and chattering in the background, he’s not home and for some reason that irritates me. “Babe, it’s late here, which means it’s really late there. Don’t you have work in the morning?”

“Yeah, I had a tough day.” He chuckles, his drunkenness showing. “I’m blowing off steam, but I’m leaving soon. I got your text and you said you wanted to hear my voice. So, here it is, just for you.”

Call me crabby from being woken up, but I’m not amused. “I sent that text almost four hours ago. I start my classes at eight in the morning, so I went to bed early to be rested and now—”

“Don’t be mad. I’m just hanging with some old friends from—”

“Let me guess, old friends from high school? That’s great and I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, but I need sleep.” On top of being irritated, now I’m worried about him hanging out with people he always said he didn’t care about.

“I miss you.” He attempts to whisper, but he’s loud as he breathes into the phone. “Will you do me a teeny tiny favor? Please, pretty please?”

I sigh, first of all because I’m tired, secondly because he’s drunk and won’t remember this conversation tomorrow. And thirdly, because I do want to hear his voice and even drunk it’s fantastic. “Okay.”

“Touch yourself for me, baby. Touch yourse—”

“I’m hanging up now. Goodbye, Evan.”

I push the end button and silence my phone. As I snuggle back under my covers, I convince myself that was the right thing to do. He’s drunk. Yes, I did want to hear his voice, but in a conversation with me. I’m in no mood for
‘other’
stuff.

My alarm sounds less than six hours later and I begrudgingly pull myself from the warm coziness of my bed.

An hour later, Sarah and I are walking to campus together. It’s good to see the familiar scenery, but last night is on my mind, and showing on my face apparently too.

Sarah nudges me with her elbow as she readjusts her backpack. “You said it’s good to be back, but I think you’re somewhere else. Want to talk about it?”

“Evan’s in New York.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“What are you worried about?”

“Everything.” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “His mom is evil and hates me.”

“No one hates you, especially not parents. They always love you.”