Evans
I’m standing in the kitchen, staring in shock at Ciara’s retreating figure as she storms off. After a few moments, I hear the sound of our bedroom door slamming shut.
What the hell was that about? Sure I got jealous, it happens. I mean, what guy wouldn’t be at least a little concerned when his fiancée tells him she’s having lunch with her ex? Ciara is an incredibly attractive woman, and this Luis guy had quite the crush on her back in school. What was I supposed to do? Lie to her? Like, “Sure, Ciara, I’m totally comfortable with you getting lunch with an ex who probably still wants to get with you. Sounds great. Let me know when I can meet him.” Forget that. I’m allowed to set boundaries in our relationship.
The reasonable side of me knows that I should go and talk to her, give her a hug, and tell her that it’s all okay—that we’re okay. But I’m pissed off at the way she overreacted. Like every warm-blooded American male, I get jealous. It would be difficult to find a guy who doesn’t. The thought creeps into my mind: Was this whole thing with Ciara a mistake? Did the surrogate agreement morph into a relationship too easily and now we’re paying for it?
I need to calm down. I run my hands through my hair, and head over to our bar cart. I pour myself a generous glass of whiskey and sit at one of the barstools we have surrounding the island in the kitchen. We have to figure out what’s going on between us. Maybe I underestimated how hard it’s been for Ciara. She’s living in a new neighborhood and trying to find friends, all while dealing with a job change and trying to wrangle Alfred
I toss back the whiskey and walk towards our bedroom. She’s not in bed, so I head towards the bathroom. I start to knock, but I can hear water running.
I hesitate for a moment, feeling the adrenaline in my veins and the tension in my jaw. I realize I’m still too upset to have this conversation now. I need to cool off first.
We can talk later. I turn away and it’s like I was never there.
Ciara
I’m sitting on my vanity stool in the bathroom while the shower runs. The water is so hot that all the mirrors have fogged up and I can’t see my reflection, but I know that my frustration is written all over my face.
Storming off and hiding in the bathroom is not very mature, but I need to be alone. I need time to sort out my thoughts, figure out why I became so upset, before talking any more with Evans.
Suddenly the front door slams, startling me. Wait, did . . . did Evans just leave without saying goodbye? He’s never left the house like this before. Is he walking out on me? Are we over? I try not to start crying in the bathroom, but I can’t help it. I wipe my eyes with a bath towel and then reach into the shower to turn the water off. I throw my robe on and walk out of our bathroom, across the bedroom, and to the bay window in the upstairs hall. I can see Evan’s car pulling out of the driveway and the sight is like a punch in the gut. He’s really leaving. I don’t know where he is going or if he will be back.
In a trance, I walk downstairs and into the kitchen. Bellina is standing at the sink, washing a single whiskey glass. When she turns to face me, her expression is concerned.
“Is everything okay? Evans doesn’t usually leave so abruptly,” Bellina asks.
There’s no point in hiding the truth from Bellina. “Everything’s not okay, but I’m not sure why,” I answered and put my face in my hands. “I told him I went to lunch with an ex and he got all jealous and possessive. I have to be able to live my life outside of this little bubble! Just because I’m a mom doesn’t mean I can only have mom friends. And Luis is an acquaintance, not even a friend at this point. I mean I’m marrying Evans.”
Bellina comes over and gives me an unexpected hug. It’s motherly and comforting and does make me feel a little better.
“Listen, I’ve known Evans for quite a while,” she says. “He’s always kept his cards close to his chest. He’s always been a very guarded man, especially after the thing with Anne. Maybe he just needs some space right now. No matter what, I know Evans will come back to you.” Bellina smiles reassuringly and squeezes my shoulder.
“How are you so sure?” I ask, sniffing.
They say when you love something to let it go, but is Evans letting me go forever? I can’t imagine my life without him.
Bellina gives me a knowing look, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Because he loves you.”