I’m doing a sketch of Adam. It’s of him looking back at me, right before he got into the taxi.
I have Adam all drawn, and I’m working on the back outline when I hear the doorbell ring.
Putting the paper down, I make my way through the house to the front door.
Reaching up on my tiptoes, I check the peephole, and my breath catches.
I take a step back.
What is she doing here? With everything I have going on at the moment, I could really do without having to deal with her.
Preparing myself I take a fortifying breath, then, I unlock the door and pull it open to the sight of Ava Gunner.
“Evie.” She smiles, but it’s as fake as every part of her.
“Adam isn’t here.” My tone is cool. I can’t help it. I hate the way she’s treated Adam, and I’m not going to pretend it’s okay, or that I like her.
“I know. I came to see you.”
I freeze. “Why?”
“We have things to discuss.”
I give a confused look. “I don’t think you and I have anything to discuss.”
“Oh, we do.”
Tired of this already, I say, “Seriously, we don’t. Now, if you don’t mind.” I go to close the door, but she presses a hand to it, stopping me.
That pisses me off. My eyes flicker to the large man standing by the limousine, who is watching our interaction with hawk-like eyes.
I bring my stare back to Ava. “Look”—I lower my voice—“I know you’re a big Hollywood star, and you’re used to having people do as you say, but I’m not one of them.”
“Really?” She tsks. “Is that any way to speak to your new mother?”
I scoff. “You’re not my mother. You’re barely Adam’s mother.”
“Evie, I’m not here to pick a fight with you. I’m here because I have a proposition for you.”
“And I’m positive that whatever you have to say, I definitely do not want to hear it.”
I’m just about to slam the door in her face when she says, “Not even if it could save your sister’s life?”
I stop the door and blankly stare back at her. “Is that a threat?”
“No. On the contrary, I’m offering a way to help save Casey. I know she’s dying. The chemotherapy didn’t work, and the doctor has stopped her treatment.”
Pain starts to crawl up my throat. “How do you know all of this?” My words are quiet, sore.
“I make it my business to know everything, especially when it comes to my son.”
“You don’t know everything.” I fold my arms, defiant. “You didn’t know we were married until he told you a few days ago, days after we had gotten married.” My words are petty, but I’m not exactly feeling mature right now.
She smiles. It’s a winner’s smile, and it sends unease crawling up my spine. “Oh, Evie, I knew the second that you got married because Adam used his credit card to pay for your little wedding, the credit card I have control of. I know everything. And I know your sister has months to live, if she’s lucky, and that the doctor has tried everything over the years to save her—surgery, radiation therapy, more surgery, chemo. Drug after drug, and nothing is working. The tumor just keeps coming back. I also know her doctor tried his hardest to get her into a clinical trial, but none were available to her.”
I’m standing here—my heart pumping in my chest, my stomach churning—because I just know that whatever it is she’s going to say is going to leave me with a choice to make.
And if it’s the choice I think it is…then I’ve already made it.
“But what if I told you that I know people? Powerful people. And they told me about this new secret clinical trial for brain cancer that’s about to start in San Francisco. It’s not known to the wider market. It’s a brand-new drug that is showing advanced results already. Life-saving results. A drug that could potentially save your sister’s life. And what if I told you that I have a place for Casey on that trial?”
Casey. A place for her on a clinical trial. That could save her life.
I won’t have to lose my sister.
I look Ava in the eyes and say, “Then, I would ask what you want in return.”
She smiles a sick, twisted kind of smile. “You’re smarter than I first had you down for, Evie. Why don’t I come inside? You can pour me a whiskey, and we’ll discuss the details.”
I stare at her for a long moment, my heart pounding, knowing I’m about to make a deal with the devil. And I know, in that deal, I’m going to lose something…someone important, really important.
But Casey…
I take a deep breath.
Then, I pull the door open wider and stand aside, letting the devil in.
I step out of the car and then thank the driver as he hands me my overnight bag.
It’s Sunday morning, and I’ve just gotten back home from Malibu.
When Adam walked out of his bedroom, leaving me there, I went back to the guest room and stayed there. I’m ashamed to say I hid in that room all night. I spent a lot of time staring at the wall, longing for him, with the smell of him still on my skin.
Finally, I forced myself into the shower and went to bed early.
I lay awake for a long time, listening for any sound of movement in the house, but there was nothing. I didn’t know if he was still there or not, and I was too afraid to go check. I must’ve dozed off at some point because I awoke to the sound of an engine revving early in the morning.
My first thought was that it was Adam, that he was leaving, and my stomach sank.
I quickly left my room and went downstairs. There was a note waiting for me on the coffee table.
It said that he had to leave early, a problem at work, and a car would be here to pick me up to take me home at ten a.m.
I knew the work thing was a lie. He just didn’t want to be stuck in a car with me for an hour, and I couldn’t blame him for that, no matter how much it hurt and how sick it made me feel.
He had told me that I could either tell him the truth or let him go.
My silence was my decision.
Why would he want to be around me after that?
Honestly, I don’t want to be around me sometimes.
So, I got dressed and went for a walk on the beach because I didn’t know what else to do until it was time for my ride home.
I unlock the front door to our apartment, letting myself inside. Dad’s sitting at our little dining table, newspaper spread out on it with his coffee to the left, his hand curled around the mug.
The sight brings a small smile to my lips.
Everyone reads the newspaper online nowadays, but my dad still likes to go and buy his morning paper and read it with a coffee.
“Hey,” I say. “Where’s Casey?”
“Still sleeping. She was out last night.” He looks up from his paper. “Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I put my bag down.
“That’s not your nothing face. That’s your something-has-happened face. The same face you had a few weeks ago after you’d seen Adam for the first time in ten years. Only, this time, you look worse.”
“So, basically, you’re saying I look like crap. Gee, thanks, Dad.”
I sit down, reach over, and take his coffee mug from his hand. I take a sip and then give it back to him.
“You went to Malibu with Adam, didn’t you?”
I told Dad that I was going. I just didn’t say it was with Adam. That was why I had Adam pick me up outside the building, so Dad wouldn’t see.
“Mmhmm,” I answer noncommittally.
“And you’ve been seeing him all this time, haven’t you?”
“Mmhmm.”
“And you haven’t told him the truth about why you left, and now, it’s all come to a head—hence, the face.”
“You got me bugged or something?” I open my jacket up, examining it.