Page 84 of No One Else

“Okay...” His tone isn’t reassuring, and as I walk into his bedroom and open the two bifold doors of his closet, I see why.

“Evan, you don’t have any clothes.” The space is a ghost town, almost literally. His leather jacket, the one that looks delicious on him, is on a hanger, along with the gray button-down shirt he wore on our first date and his old black hoodie that still desperately needs to be thrown away.

And that’s it. Like seriously it. “Is everything in the laundry or something?”

“I mean, I have t-shirts,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “over in the dresser. And jeans and gym shorts. But not, like, nice clothes.”

“So what were you planning on wearing?”

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out, a slight look of panic crossing over his face.

“We’ll find something,” I reassure him, mentally racking my brain for anyone I know his size we could borrow a suit from. Maybe Luke has something. I’ll text Charlotte to raid his closet.

“Anything good in there?” Pete asks as we return to the living room.

“No,” Evan says glumly, slumping back down on the couch, resting his forehead in his hands.

“Hmm. Last time you wore a suit was...” Pete clears his throat hastily and grabs his cane. “Never mind that. Come in here.”

We follow him as he hobbles over to his room, flicking the light on his nightstand and then in his walk-in closet. A whole wardrobe of women’s clothing hangs on the right side. Are those... Evan’s mom’s?

“Here we go,” Pete says, struggling with a black garment bag in the back.

Evan steps in to help, bringing it over to the bed and unzips it. “What...”

He stops short at the sight of a navy suit, lightly stroking the material with one hand. “Is this...?” he asks his Dad, turning back to face him.

Pete nods. “Had the best two days of my life in that.” He turns to me, explaining, “Married my Megan in it, then a year later wore it out for our anniversary dinner and she goes into labor. We rushed to the hospital and Evan joined us about twelve hours later.”

A twelve hour labor? Jesus. How big was Evan? Was he stuck in there or something? I make a mental note to ask him about it later and smile at Pete. “That sounds like a lucky suit.”

He grins at me, the same way Evan does, his mouth curving up on one side more than the other. “That it is. You’re welcome to it,” he tells his son.

“I can’t wear this,” Evan whispers, looking overwhelmed, his fingers still on the fabric.

“Sure you can. Doesn’t fit me anymore and I’d like to see it get some use.”

He stares at it, almost like he’s afraid of it.

“It can’t hurt to just try it on,” I say softly, unsure why he’s acting like this.

“Yeah.” He swallows heavily. “I’ll try it on.” He carefully takes it out of the garment bag and walks slowly out of the room, holding it away from him.

What was that about?

A framed picture on the nightstand catches my eye, featuring the same navy suit on a much younger Pete. “Oh, wow,” I breathe, stepping in closer to see it better. “You two look incredible.”

“Like I said. The first happiest day of my life.”

I run my finger down the edge of the frame, staring at Evan’s mom. Megan, Pete called her. Evan resembles his dad so strongly that it’s difficult to spot many similarities, but he does have her dark hair. Maybe the shape of her eyes too? It’s hard to tell from just one picture.

“Her dress is beautiful. Very Old Hollywood glam.”

“That was her pride and joy,” he smiles to himself. “Always said she was going to get it altered so she could use it for something else, but every time it came down to it, she couldn’t go through with it.”

“I’ve seen pictures of my mom’s wedding dress and it’s so dated. All puffed sleeves and tons of lace over satin. But something like this is classic. It’ll never go out of style. I can see why it would be hard for her to change it.”

“Would you like to see it?” he asks softly, a twinkle in his eye.

---