Page 92 of For Eva

I sucked in a deep breath. “That woman, the one who waved to you when she came in…what’s her name?”

She motioned toward the tables behind her. “That one over there?”

I nodded quickly.

“Oh, that’s Eva. She used to come in here all the time, but this is the first I’ve seen her in a while.” She tilted her head. “Why? You know her?”

I stared at the table across the bar. It didn't matter anymore. She wouldn’t see me. She was too focused on her family.

Her family.

The words echoed in my brain.

“Hello?”

I shook my head and looked over to see Rain tapping her fingers on the counter. “Oh, uh…no. She just looks like somebody I used to know.”

I felt like someone had just stabbed me in the gut, but I managed a weak laugh as she winked and turned to greet the couple who’d settled in a few seats down from me. I sighed and downed the last of my drink, knowing I couldn’t sit there and endure the twist of the knife as I watched the girl I’d let get away—twice—with someone else. I threw a hundred on the bar and headed toward the exit, stealing one last glance before pushing through the door.

FIFTY-ONE

October 2008

From: Eva Mitchell

To: Denise Abbott

Date: October 24, 2008 1:03AM

Subject: UGH

It’s one a.m., and I can’t fucking sleep because I had to sit through the most painful fucking dinner earlier tonight. Miles begged Aaron to pick him up from school and for us to all have dinner together at his favorite restaurant for his birthday. Aaron’s friend owns it, and we used to go there all the time. Maybe Miles thought it would magically put his family back together.

Anyway, Aaron agreed to it, and I wanted to evaporate into thin air the entire time, even though I smiled and laughed and pretended like everything was fine. It’s hard for me to look at him, Denise. I just keep thinking about the fact that he was fucking someone nearly half my age before we even split up, andit pisses me off and hurts me and makes me wanna throw shit and cry ’til I can’t fucking cry anymore.

I know I sound like a broken record, but I still can’t help but think I did something wrong. Why wasn’t I good enough for him? If I had just agreed to have another kid…if I’d been happier staying at home…would things have been different?

All right, I’m going to stop now. My mind is spiraling, and I should at least try to get some sleep so I don’t look as haggard as I feel.

Love you.

From: Denise Abbott

To: Eva Mitchell

Date: October 24, 2008 11:08AM

Subject: Re: UGH

He’s a motherfucker, Eva. MOTHERFUCKER. I swear to God I will fly out to Nashville and help you slash his tires. Waiting for the word “go.”

You were too fucking good for him, babe. You hear me? Because if you don’t, I’ll say it over and over again ’til you do. You’re an amazing woman, and he’ll realize what he lost soon enough. What happened has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. You are the same beautiful, independent person you’ve always been, and for some reason, he wanted to squash that. Chin up and tits out, sister. You’re gonna come out of this stronger than you’ve ever been. Just gotta get that light he dimmed to shine bright again.

Call whenever you need me. I’m here.

Love you more.

From: Eva Mitchell

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