Page 18 of Sweet Revenge
“No.” Evie stripped off her shirt and laid it across the ottoman. “It’s fine. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.” Wriggling out of her jeans, she stepped into the second dress and struggled to hold it closed over her breasts so she could tug up the zipper. “Maybe not this one.”
Cait giggled while Evie replaced it on the hanger and reached for the next one. “Are you happy, Cait?”
Her hands froze. She had no idea where that question had come from, but it’s not like she could take it back now.
“I am. I have an amazing husband, an adorable son, and a good life. Are you happy?”
Evie studied herself in the mirror. The dress was a little tight across the ass, but not unwearable. Her mother would probably click her tongue at the cap sleeves that showed her shoulders through the lace, but it hit below the knee, so at least she’d approve of that.
Besides, it was this or nothing. Even Mary Elizabeth would have to forgive her. She met Cait’s eyes in the glass. Was she happy?
“I’m not sure.”
Cait helped her out of the dress and slipped it into a garment bag while Evie got dressed. When she turned, her eyes were sad.
“I’m not going to ask you why you left because I don’t want you to lie to me. But I will say that you deserve to be happy. So,” Cait held out the dress. “If you really aren’t, maybe you can figure out a way to be.”
Evie took the bag, draping it over her arm. She wasn’t so sure. “Thanks, Cait.”
They descended the stairs in silence, and Cait waved from the front step while Evie climbed in her car and backed down the driveway. Refusing to spare a second glance at the house across the street as she sped away, Evie captured her bottom lip between her teeth.
One more day, and then she could go back to her real life. She’d gotten over the pain of loss the last time she left Philadelphia. She could do it again. She’d have to.
ChapterTen
Evie came awake with a gasp, heart thudding thick and heavy in her chest. Scrubbing her hands over her face and through her hair, she inhaled slow and deep, willing her heartbeat to slow. She’d pay any sum to erase the last image she had of her parents from her mind.
Collapsing back against the pillows, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to recall the last good memory she had of them. The one she’d used often right after leaving Philadelphia. It had kept her alert when she’d stay up all night in cheap hotel rooms in bad parts of Manhattan, too afraid to sleep.
Slowly her mother’s face came swimming into view. She had kind eyes. That was always the first thing Evie noticed when she thought about her mother’s face. Her kind brown eyes that crinkled at the corners whenever she smiled or laughed.
Mary Elizabeth had been nothing but smiles when she’d celebrated her daughters on their twentieth birthday. Evie and Nessa insisted that twenty was nothing special to be celebrated, but Mary Elizabeth wanted to mark the occasion as the last year her whole family would live under the same roof. Evie was to be married six weeks later.
She decorated the house in their favorite colors, made all their favorite foods, rented their favorite movies. And they’d watched them, the three of them, cuddled up on the couch together, talking and laughing like nothing bad could ever happen.
Two weeks later, Evie was gone with only a note on her pillow as explanation, and she hadn’t seen her mother’s smiling face since. Now it lived only in her memory. She opened her eyes and blinked against the burn of tears. It was going to be a long day.
She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Seven. Two hours until the funeral. Twelve until she was back in New York and figuring out how to get as far away from Philadelphia as possible.
She slid out of bed, crossing to the blinds and pulling them back across the window. She could see the sky just beginning to lighten on the horizon, the inky blue of night fading into shades of purple and orange as the stars winked out.
Turning from the window, she moved into the bathroom and cut on the spray for the shower. She’d shower, pack, and then grab something quick for breakfast before heading over to the church.
The hotel provided his and hers toiletries, and Evie opened the men’s shampoo, inhaling its scent. It smelled faintly like her father’s aftershave. She could remember waking up from nightmares cradled in her father’s arms, surrounded by the woodsy smell of his aftershave as she buried her face against his neck.
She replaced the bottle on the counter and took the rest into the shower. Tilting her head back, she let the water rush down over her face and hair. When tears threatened to bubble over, she shoved them back. She wouldn’t cry again. She’d learned a long time ago that dwelling on the past was a waste of time. They were gone, and all she could do was move forward.
She scrubbed herself clean and gave her curls a quick wash. Wrapped in a towel, she applied a light layer of makeup—just enough to hide the toll the last few days had taken on her—and swept her hair back into a low bun. Mary Elizabeth would never have tolerated loose hair at a funeral Mass.
The air pumping out of the AC unit pricked over her skin as she exchanged her towel for a bra and panties. The sun cast long shadows, its rays peeking between buildings as it continued its climb, deepening the sky to dramatic reds and oranges.
Evie carefully folded her clothes and laid them in her bag, tossing her toiletries on top just as her phone rang from its place on the nightstand. Her eyes darted to the clock. Who was calling her at barely eight in the morning? She scooped it up off the table, frowning at the name that flashed.
“Hello?”
“Evelyn, my darling, how are you?”
William’s posh English accent floated through the phone. He was the only one besides her grandmother who ever called her Evelyn.
