Page 123 of For Eva

And Ihadto see him.

After one final deep breath, I stepped out onto the stamped concrete. My hand trembled as I pressed the button on the call box, then leaned against Denise’s car, the warmth of the black steel seeping through my sundress. I tipped my head back and closed my eyes, the steady pounding of my heartbeat pulsating in every part of my body.

And I waited.

And waited.

After several minutes, I pressed the button again, my eyes squarely focused on the speaker, holding my breath and praying to hear Eric’s voice.

But there was nothing.

No voice.

No buzz signaling the opening of the gate.

Nothing but the squawks of a few seagulls circling overhead before flying off toward the beach.

I stared at the call box for another minute or two.

Should I call him? Text him?

I dismissed the thought as an image of him lying in bed with the girl from the magazine crept into my head. She was draped over him, listening to the crashing of the waves while he stroked her hair. He’d pull himself away from her in a few hours, explaining that an old friend was in town whom he felt obligated to meet for dinner.

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, blurring the sequence that played in my brain, and resigned myself to the factthat all I could do was to head back to Denise’s. I opened the car door and sank into the tan leather seat.

Maybe I should let him come to Denise’s and tell him there.

Maybe I should text him and tell him I’m sick.

Maybe I should’ve gotten off the plane in Nashville.

Maybe there’s a car blocking me and I can’t even get out of the damn driveway.

I blinked before looking into the rearview mirror again to see a silver Porsche idling behind me with Eric inside, leaning forward, trying to figure out exactly who the hell was parked at the entrance to his house. Worried that flinging open the door and running toward him like a lunatic might send him peeling out of the driveway, I did the only thing I could think to do. I twisted my body in the seat and stuck my head out the open window as far as it could go—not entirely avoiding the whole lunatic scenario.

“Eric, don’t leave! It’s me! It’s—”

“Eva?” He leaned out his own window and removed his sunglasses before cutting the engine and stepping out onto the driveway.

I got out of the car and watched him walk toward me, amazed at how he could turn an old T-shirt and jeans into the sexiest outfit on earth. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, and I steadied myself against the car door, afraid I might fall into a heap on the ground.

He stopped in front of me, his eyes catching the sun like a pair of blue crystals as he smiled. “What are you doing here? I said I’d come pick you up.”

My pulse throbbed in my neck as I searched for the right words.

“Are you okay?” he asked, studying my face. “Have you been crying?”

I’d rehearsed what I was going to say on the drive, but he was so beautiful—his hair a little longer, the beginnings of a beard tracing his jaw and upper lip—that I couldn’t look at him and formulate any sort of intelligible words.

“I know this seems kinda crazy…or weird…or both. But I came because I had to tell you I was afraid.” I paused, tightening my fists in frustration because I was already fucking this up.

“Afraid of…”

“You,” I continued, finally looking up at him. “All those years ago, when I stopped answering your letters and phone calls, I was scared. And I guess I’m still scared now, but I don’t want to live with what-ifs.” I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut. “Fuck, I’m not making any sense.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, touching my arm. “Do you wanna come inside and sit down?”

“No, I need to get this out.” I swallowed and pressed on. “What I’m trying to say is I think I missed my chance. And it’s fine if I have. I don’t want to lose our friendship, it’s too important to me, so if—”

---