Page 66 of It's Always Been You
A tear slips down my cheek as I reread her last sentence. I wipe it away.
Not only was Evie the reason I chose to pursue child and adolescent psychiatry, but she gave me my purpose as a physician—to help children get to bechildren.I can’t help but feel like I’m failing Teddy already, and he’s only three.
My heart constricts in my chest as I reread the letter again and again.Lord, I miss the Evie who saw the very best in me—the girl who believed in me and loved me unconditionally. She was the one person who was in my corner during a time when it felt like the whole world had turned against me . . .
And I repaid her by breaking her heart.
Evie doesn’t respond to my text until I’m halfway through my book, my eyelids are drooping, and I’ve lost all hope that she will.
Spitfire:Not. A. Date.
I smirk.
Me:Humor me.
Spitfire:You’re my boss, remember? I’m not about to give you a lowdown of my Friday night, date or no date. It’s inappropriate.
A blush creeps up my neck. She’s right, really. But my thumbs are flying across the screen before I can stop them.
Me:What’s inappropriate is that skirt you were wearing this afternoon.
I regret my flirtatious message immediately.
Spitfire:Careful. Before I get HR involved.
I grin, relieved by her playful response.
Me:I am HR.
Spitfire:Stop being so creepy all the time.
My face warms. I don’t know whether to take her message seriously or not.
Me:How am I being creepy?
It takes her forever to reply. I’m on the edge of my seat waiting, glancing at my phone every few seconds, unable to focus on my book.
Spitfire:Because. You’re way too interested in my life. You think I haven’t noticed the way you’re always just AROUND these days? For starters, you were miraculously just THERE the day of my car accident. You were creeping around my room the next morning, watching me sleep. Then, somehow, you lassoed me into becoming your assistant by using my meager income and dreams of backpacking across Europe against me.
Spitfire:For all I know, you’re the one who put that pesky curb there and are responsible for the fatal fall that injured me and put me at your mercy.
I’ve been shaking my head this entire time, but her last message makes me chuckle.
Spitfire:You’re probably also the reason one of my diaries is missing.
And just like that, I’m sweating. Her diary is still sitting in my center console. I haven’t forgotten about it, but I haven’t wanted to move it, either, just in case an opportunity to drop it off at Maggie’s place arises when Evie’s not around. No such luck yet.
Me:So tell me more about this date.
The text is a joke, but she begins drafting a very long-winded reply, judging by the amount of time it takes her to respond. Knowing Evie, she’ll make up some elaborate story. She is incredibly imaginative. When she was a kid, she would spend hours pitting her dolls against each other in these elaborate day-time-drama-like stories that she’d make up off the top of her head. And whenever she could, she’d force me and Jamie to endure her geeky soliloquies, using her parents’ raised fireplace hearth as a makeshift stage for her one-man shows.
I’m grinning like a maniac as her first message rolls in.
Spitfire:Fine. If you must know.We started off with a romantic, candle-lit dinner at Little Italy. Being Friday night, all the old timers were out, and I got to dance with half of Sunny Days’ residency because I just love “keeping them young.”
I laugh again. Suddenly, I don’t want to text anymore. I want to hear the gentle cadence of her voice as she weaves her little tale. I love hearing her ramble. My thumb clicks on her profile and hovers over the call button.
I take a deep breath and press it. It rings twice.
