Page 48 of My (Not So) Perfect Plan

Thank God! My heart rejoices and it comes out in smiles that turn into happy tears. I’ve never cried over someone just because they are willing to become a friend of mine. I know that makes me sound really pathetic. But when you want something really bad and then realize you can’t have it, it’s like the rug is pulled out from under you.

Somehow, during my friendship with Evan, I had come to depend on his happiness inducing remarks and comments, as frivolous and fake as they were. Maybe I didn’t have enough of that in my life, but when it was gone, it was like life had gone from color to black and white.

While my plan is important and I can’t change it, I need to find a way to keep him as a friend. I don’t want him as more (because he’s more or less a man-whore and a flirt), but I need him as a friend. At least I am going to be honest enough with myself to recognize that his friendship has become important to me. His friendship won’t ruin the plan.

My mind goes back to what Tamara said about adjusting my plan to make room for him. I can’t do that in the way she thinks I should, because there’s too much at risk, but it isn’t as if he hasn’t influenced my thoughts on life. If anything, I think back on his recommendation to get into event coordinating, it may help to settle some questions I had regarding specifics in how this plan will be carried out.

I wipe my eyes, feeling really silly for tearing up about this. He eyes me uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been weighing on me for a while. I was such a jerk to do that to you.”

He swallows and looks away. “Yeah, I don’t think I was very nice myself. I could have been more understanding about it.”

I sigh and give him a close-mouthed smile and he returns it with one of those side grins that makes my heart do somersaults. Stupid heart.

“Is it just me or do you think Tamara tried to set us up?” he asks me.

I laugh. “I definitely have my suspicions.”

“Well, I’m glad she did.” His eyes grow serious. I wish I could see into his head and know what he’s thinking. “I missed you.”

My cheeks warm again. “I missed you too.”

The waitress brings the check and before it gets awkward I pull out my wallet and slide the card onto the tray next to his. He asks me about my family and I ask him about his. I wouldn’t say the conversation is stilted, but it’s close. We have a long way to go before we recover the ease we used to have around each other.

We leave together and he walks me to my car. I’m worrying he will kiss me. But no, friends don’t kiss friends, right?

He stands there a second while I open the car door and the silence is palpable.

“Claire,” he says, right before I get in.

His arms came up around me and he squeezes. I automatically raise my arms to wrap around his middle. He feels so firm, strong, and warm, and wonderful. “It means a lot to me that you apologized. I don’t think you realize how much influence you can have on another person,” he says over my shoulder.

I squeeze him back, wishing I could never leave the comfort and security of the circle of his arms. Too soon, he pulls back and gives me a small smile before walking over toward his truck. He waits until I leave before he pulls out himself.

I’ll see him again tomorrow evening at the gala, but then I feel sick remembering that he’ll be bringing a date. I know it’s wrong of me to feel anything other than congratulatory toward him, but just for now, I wish he wasn’t taking anyone else and that my plan didn’t matter so much to me.

ELEVEN

EVAN

Everything is going according to plan. My father came through like he promised. I’m hopeful that our relationship can begin in a way that neither of us have ever had. I guess for some emotionally damaged people, opening up to others, even their own children, can be difficult. At least I believe hemaylove me now.

I make one last check in the mirror and gotta say I’m pleased with the tux my mom said I should go with. It makes me feel like James Bond, if Bond was younger and broader in the shoulders. The suit fits like a glove. I just hope my date finds it as exciting.

Tamara texts me to let me know she’s almost ready to go. I pick up my car keys and the black mask I plan on wearing. When the next text comes through, I walk downstairs, telling my mom and dad that I’ll meet them there, and pull out the car my dad is letting me use for the evening.

The James Bond look is completed by an navy ’72 Aston Martin and my black aviators. I’ve already delivered the gift for Claire that I’ve been working on since our date. It took me almost all night and most of today, after which I was able to catch a hard fours of sleep, but it’s finished. Raven assures me Claire hasn’t seen it and that she won’t until she joins everyone later in the evening when the party is in full swing.

I drive up to the well-lit doors of the venue and hand the keys to the valet. He’s excited to drive it and I wink at him.

“Take care of my girl.”

“Yes, sir!” He runs off and I present my ticket at the door. I’m one of the first people in the place, but I pull my mask out and place it across my eyes. Raven is across the room, pointing at a prop while he talks with Tamara. He’s wearing an old-fashioned tux with a bow tie, his hair combed back from his face, and he looks really different. Tamara is her usual self though, teetering on sky high heels, a poofy skirt with some sort of gauzy material floating around her knees, while a form-fitting long-sleeved sequined top goes up to her neck. Like me, Raven wears a simple black mask, but Tamara’s is ornate with feathers and jewels.

Raven helps me pull out Claire’s gift and set it up. People are starting to show up, mingling in the foyer where hor ‘duerves are laid out with champagne for the adults and soda for the teenagers. I greet my parents and we mingle with the other guests, many of whom are familiar to my father through business connections.

My fingers have been tapping out a steady rhythm on my leg for the past twenty minutes when Tamara comes up to my elbow and mentions that she’s here. My heart starts pounding a mile a minute. Jaxon squeezes my shoulder with a hand and Rachel mouths ‘good luck’ before they lose themselves in the crowd, probably intent on finding an out of the way room where they can lose themselves in each other.

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