Page 42 of The Match

“Great, not going to happen,” Evie bites out. “Message received. You can leave now. Tell Dad I said thanks for stopping by to check on me.” Her sarcasm is thick, and although I’ve never seen her like this, I understand it. Admire it, even.

A protective energy courses through my veins, and I’m powerless to stop it. If this villain in the baby-blue pantsuit doesn’t leave in the next minute, I’m going to end up throwing her out myself.

Mrs. Jones shakes her head at Evie. “You’re making a mistake, dear. I just want the best for you and your future.” That almost sounded nice. And maybe it would have been a kind parting had she stopped talking right there. Melony casts a disgusted glance over Evie’s appearance one last time. “And for heaven’s sake, Evelyn Grace, you shouldn’t be so easy. It looks bad on the Jones name.”

Okay, that’s it. I’m hot on Melony’s heels, but Evie reaches out and catches my chest before I can follow the monster out. She shuts the door quickly and puts her back to it like she doesn’t trust me to not wrench it open and go after Melony Jones. Probably for the best. Not sure I trust myself right now.

I stare at Evie for a minute, waiting for the floodgates to open or her fury to burn hot. Instead, her dimples pop, and she smiles. “Can I bring anything to the pool party on Saturday?”

My mouth falls open. “How are you so calm?!” I feel like the Hulk, ready to rip my shirt off and burst through the ceiling; and she’s just standing there, looking like a springtime fairy. “How are you not spitting angry right now?”

She shrugs and steps away from the door. “I stopped letting that woman steal my joy about fifteen therapy sessions ago. Where do you think all my money disappears to?”

I don’t know what else to do, so I walk over to Evie and wrap my arms around her. I want to hold her close because, somehow, I get the feeling she and Sam share more than just the same disability. I think Evie is tough as nails, but she’ll still cry into her pillow the second I leave.

For a moment, she seems shocked. She doesn’t move. Her arms are limp noodles beside her body. But then they finally lift up and wrap around my waist, and she squeezes me back as tightly as I’m squeezing her. It’s all I can offer her.

“They suck,” I mumble into her hair, and she laughs.

“Yeah. They’re not the best parents.”

“Why didn’t you tell me what family you were from? I had no idea.”

She pulls away from me and starts busying herself by packing up all the nail polish. “Because number one, how weird would it have been if the second I met you, I said, ‘Hi! I’m Evie Jones. You know? Of the famous Joneses who practically own this city?’ And number two, I’m trying to make my own way in life without riding their coattails.”

She moves on to a fluffy blue blanket, which she aggressively folds.

“I understand that.” We’re both quiet for a moment, and then, when I can’t take it any longer, I finally ask the question that’s been eating at me. “So, who’s the Tyler guy your mom was talking about?”

Evie grins like she can tell I’m jealous and likes it. “Have you heard of my dad’s law firm? Jones and Murray? Well, Tyler is Tyler Murray. He just inherited his dad’s half of the firm. Our parents have been planning on our marriage since we were kids so that they could always keep the company in trustworthy hands. The problem is, I’m the only one who doesn’t want the marriage.”

Only one?

“So, that means Tyler does want the marriage?”

Evie shrugs like it’s not a big deal. Like this relationship I was beginning to picture between us didn’t just grow fuzzier and more unclear. Is there even a chance for us now? If Tyler is one of the Murrays, I’ve no doubt he’s a millionaire. By society’s standards, he would be a catch. How do I stand a chance against someone like that?

Then again . . . I’m here with Evie in her little apartment that she chose to live in because she didn’t want the same life as her parents. So, that’s something. Isn’t it?

“Tyler wants a pretty wife on his arm who will help him climb the social and economic ladder. Marrying a Jones is exactly what he needs to ensure that happens. He doesn’t want me. He wants what we would represent together. A unified company in more ways than just business. Investors would love it and it could be a boost to the company.”

“And you don’t want that?”

Evie laughs, and the sound makes my heart lighter. “I sent that idea down the toilet a long time ago. Honestly, Tyler and I dated for a while in high school, and that was enough to make me never want to be attached to that man again. And he’s only gotten worse since we broke up.”

I don’t say anything for a minute. I’m not sure what to say.

Evie accurately interprets my silence and goes on. “Jake. I don’t . . . I don’t know if it’s necessary for me to say this to you or not,

but there really is no chance of me ever wanting to marry Tyler Murray—or any man like him, for that matter.”

I really want to let those words soothe my fears, but it just isn’t helping me feel better about wanting to date her. If anything, it adds to my terror about a million percent. What if we get serious and then she changes her mind and finally takes Tyler up on his offer? I don’t know. I can’t think about that right now. I need to change the subject before I self-sabotage. “Did they say you’re still on their phone plan?”

She gives me a look that says, Don’t you dare make fun of me. “It’s cheaper that way. I hate being beholden to them, but I can’t afford it without the family-plan discount.” Right. This reminds me of something.

I walk into her “kitchen”—meaning I take two big steps to the right. I’m not sure you can actually call this a kitchen. It’s really just a fridge and a sink and a one-foot-square slab of butcher block that, if you squint, might be able to pass as a counter. I open the top cupboard, and it’s just as I suspected.

“What are you doing?” she asks, sounding a little panicked.

---