Page 46 of Hush Money
One last moment where I don’t know where she begins and where I end.
Then I could die a happy man.
EVIE
There are so many things about this party that make me anxious that I’m not sure I can name them all.
First, there is the fact that I’m seeing his family—his whole family—again. The first time since my early twenties. When we were kids, we ironically didn’t spend a whole lot of time with the Everetts, which my other friends thought was crazy.
I remember Annie Cramer asking me in homeroom once what the point of having a billionaire friend was if I didn’t take advantage of any of the perks.
The truth was, I forgot he was rich.
Often.
He didn’t cruise around Manhattan in a chariot. He didn’t stick with his security detail. He didn’t parade around penthouses. Instead, he preferred to assimilate into my life when we were together. We hung at my house, and his security waited outside. We went to Coney Island. We went to coffee shops.
Perk of being the second-born Everett was that most people only recognized Cato and Julian. Keaton was the “spare” as he so affectionately referred to himself. Julian was the “heir” in thepublic eye. He was the oldest, looked the most like Cato, and was in line to take over all the family businesses.
Then when Brooks came along, his birth in and of itself was a scandal that attracted all the media. For years, they’d stalk around, trying to get pictures of him.
Keaton was able to hide away, using the middle-child thing to his advantage. We would go to Bedell House, the Everett family estate, only when he knew that his family wasn’t going to be on property, when we could have it to ourselves. We would run through the gardens, fish in the pond, hide out in the library.
I met Cato a few times throughout my friendship with Keaton, and though he was polite on paper, he was snarky and sarcastic and never showed interest in anyone for too long. I particularly despised the way he made Keaton the butt of so many of his jokes once it became apparent that he wasn’t going to follow Julian’s footsteps and go to business school.
And as we got older, we hung around them less and less.
The next item of anxiety is the fact that I have to not only see them, but I have to act like everything is normal. And the problem is, I don’t know whatnormalis anymore. Normalfeelslike Keaton. Being with him feels normal. Natural. It requires absolutely no thinking on my part, which is why being with him feels so freeing. Brain off, feelings on.
But to anyone on the outside, nothing about this situation is normal.
Twenty years ago, we were inseparable, but we never belonged to each other.
Then I got married.
Keaton left and never came back.
Until now.
Now, he’s back.
Now, I’m getting divorced.
In the span of a few days, I’ve left my marriage and shacked up with my billionaire ex-best friend.
That can’t look good.
But it has to looknormal.
And being that I don’t know which way is up, I definitely don’t know which way is normal.
I just know which way to go to get to him.
Sawyer sent me to some store uptown where she now gets her wardrobe made. She says it’s the only thing she lets herself splurge on, because she can finally find clothes that fit her. Clothes that make herfeelgood.
Our bodies are very different. She’s taller, slimmer, straighter—younger, I remind myself.
I’ve worked hard to love myself for my entire adult life, but it’s been double the work lately. When you don’t see your worth, having someone to remind you what they see can be life-altering. Empowering. Freeing.
