Page 32 of Seven Days in June

“I meant what I said in there,” he said. “I’m your biggest fan. I’m an English teacher now, and while my students are reading Hawthorne in class, I read you.”

“Youteach?” Eva’s skepticism was palpable. “What school would allow you anywhere near their student population?”

“I’ve changed.” His confident smile made it believable. “I think this is what writers call a character arc.”

“I see.” Eva cocked her head. “Speaking of writers. Your little speech aboutCursed? It was…like…What were you…”

Shane cringed. He never would’ve thought that there’d be a time when they didn’t know how to talk to each other. Years ago, they’d had a purely instinctual rhythm. A wordless connection so raw that minutes after meeting, they pounced. But rational-minded adults didn’t take such liberties.

Of course, Shane was, historically, not great at being an adult.

“Just talk to me,” he said. “Whatever it is, I can take it.”

“Fine.” She shoved her glasses up her nose, inelegantly and irresistibly. “Your speech aboutCursed? It was a lot. You can’t just jump from 2004 to 2019, shock me to death, and then hit me with a…rapturous, doctorate-level thesis of my supernatural erotica. Those books are my babies, and even I know they’re not that good. Hearing you talk like that?You?After fifteen years? I couldn’t breathe.” She huffed, exasperated. “Why’d you come on stage last night?”

“Cece made me.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“True. And you could’ve worn jeans.”

“Okay, fair point. Cece owns us all.”

“Honestly? I was shook.” Shane reached for more bread. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. Next thing I know, we’re up there together, and you bring upEight, and I just…blacked out and said too much.”

“We weren’t really talking about our books, Shane. Everyone knew.”

“I know.Fuck.I got a certificate for best communicator in AA. How’d I get here?”

“Good question,” she said pointedly.

With impressive timing, the waitress swept by the table with Shane’s radioactive-green mint-kale juice and Eva’s milkshake.

Shane took a gulp and instantly regretted it. The mint was awful. It tasted like a Listerine smoothie. He swallowed, cheeks puffed out, miserable. Generously, Eva slid her milkshake toward him.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a swig. He hated being healthy. “I’m here to present at the Littie Awards on Sunday.”

“Nope. You don’t do awards ceremonies. Or panels. And you’re never in Brooklyn. You’ve been very careful to avoid me.”

“I’ve been avoiding life in general.”

Eva rolled her eyes extravagantly.

“It’s true!” insisted Shane. “Meanwhile, you mastered it. You made it to Princeton. Got married, had a beautiful girl.”

“How do you know anything about me? You’re not on social media.”

“Nah, people are strange enough in real life. I don’t need to view their psychosis through a zany filter,” he said, scowling. “But yeah, in some masochistic moments, I’ve looked you up. You and Audre are like a mother-daughter Thelma and Louise, with your museums and road trips and rallies. Travis Scott at Radio City.”

Eva preened, deservedly smug. “Audre’s a great kid. She got the best of me and her dad.”

“What’s he like?” Shane knew he was going too far.

“Travis Scott?”

“Audre’s dad.”

Eva sat back in the booth, hard. She grimaced and massaged a temple with her knuckles. “He’sstable.”

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