Fate Interrupted (15 page)

She took
advantage of his confusion and pressed her lips against his with foolish resolve.

He pushed her
away, wiping the red evidence from his lips. “Megan, no matter what happens…you
and I will never be together.”

Megan sharpened
her stony gaze. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I didn’t say
that.”

“You didn’t have
to!” she snapped, her chest heaving. “You think I don’t know who was inside of
me six weeks ago?”

He cringed with
the rise in volume and shushed her.

“Don’t shush
me!” She pointed to the parking lot and spoke through gritted teeth. “You think
I’ve fucked so many guys out there that I can’t even keep track?”

“Jesus Christ,
Megan,” he groaned, glancing around the other patios and balconies. “You’re
putting words into my mouth.”

Her face soured
like someone had just slapped her. “Oh I get it,” she said, feigning a smile.
“You’re too good to get locked up with Megan Crawford, is that it?”

“No, that is
not…”

“Well, you
should’ve thought about that before fucking me!”

Dean glared at
her in the thunderstruck silence that followed, speechless in the face of such
a horrific outburst, his chest swelling. Someone across the way peeked out
between their blinds and quickly disappeared back into their living room. Dean
pictured Evy crying with the unsettling news, lashing out at him like Megan was
now.

Megan’s long
blond hair fell over her shoulder when she cocked her head to one side. “I’m
sorry, Dean, I…shouldn’t have said that.”

“You should go.”

She nodded with
a sniffle. “I didn’t come over here to fight with you. Must be my hormones
starting to go bat-shit crazy already.” She flashed him a thin smile and stood
there looking at him through watery eyes for what seemed like minutes. Finally,
she turned for the parking lot, her heels skittering across the patio as she
stormed off with her nose held high. He watched the taillights on her red Mitsubishi
fade from sight and exhaled a low breath, an orchestra of crickets and locusts
buzzing his head with their constant drone. “
Sonofabitch
,”
he muttered, going back inside and barricading the door behind him like flesh-eating
zombies were on the loose.

He took a
steadying breath, his mind flipping through scenarios like a digital bill
counter. Was it really his kid? How would Evy take it? What if he and Megan
were joined
at the hip for all of eternity? How would Evy
take it? Should he tell her? How could he hide it? He couldn’t. Not for long. His
cell phone caught his attention. Dean grabbed it and scrolled through his
contacts, wondering if he
was cursed
. He ran a hand
through his hair, took a deep breath, and hit the call button.

Chapter
Eight

Evy stared at
the lacey bras and panties strewn across the bed, humming along with a mellow
jazz tune lazily drifting in from the living room. The assortment of rich
colors stood out against the white comforter, making it difficult which to choose.
She checked the alarm clock on the nightstand and cringed. Dean would be here
in half an hour and she wasn’t even close to being ready. She stood there
naked, examining her new undergarments while chewing on a pinky. The smell of
the lasagna made her mouth water and she hoped he would like it. If not, they
could jump right to dessert.

She finally
decided that lavender was the winner and hurriedly clipped the tags. After
slipping into them, she checked herself in a full length mirror leaning against
a bedroom wall. She smiled in approval and turned back to the cramped walk-in closet,
shoving hangers back for an inch or two of space to view her choices.

“Oh my God,” she
muttered, pulling out a heather gray dress with a price tag hanging from the
sleeve. “I forgot all about this.”

The smoke alarm
went off, filling the apartment with an earsplitting protest that drowned out
the iPod dock in the living room. She scurried into the hallway, her boobs
bouncing inside her new bra, and pulled a step stool from a hall closet. The
incessant beeping made her squint as she climbed up the stool. Evy disconnected
the battery from the blaring smoke alarm like it might bite her, plunging the apartment
back into a smoky instrumental.

She dragged the
step stool back into the closet and padded her bare feet into the kitchen. The
oven door pulled open with a
creak
, allowing smoke to
escape from some cheese burning on the bottom, courtesy of a recent frozen
pizza. The pan of lasagna bubbled and sizzled but had some time to go, so she
shut the door and lit a candle before rushing back into the bedroom.

The sight of the
messy closet made her sigh. She rested her hands on her hips, not knowing where
to even begin. They were staying in to watch movies tonight but she still
wanted to look good for him. Not too good like she was trying too hard, but a
casual
good
. In the end, she opted
for skinny jeans and a black tank top that showed off her arms. She topped it
off with the arrow necklace Dean had given her and a Michael
Kors
watch from Richie on her twenty-seventh birthday. The
last birthday they would spend together.

She studied
herself in the mirror, thankful to have that man in the past and Dean in her
future. It was weird how fate sometimes worked.
 
Last year she couldn’t understand why that had
happened to her but looking back now, it all made sense. She imagined being married
to Richie in Des Moines and shuddered at the thought. Just thinking about
living without Dean made her heart ache.

Back inside the
closet, she scanned the rows of shoes, from high heeled boots and dress shoes
to sandals and sneakers. She tapped a finger against her lips, deciding she
needed to go shoe shopping soon, and settled for a pair of purple fuck me pumps.
She slid on some bracelets and checked her completed ensemble in the mirror. Butterflies
stirred in her gut and she took a steadying breath. Even after nearly two
months, just knowing he was on the way made her pulse race. She dashed back into
the closet and switched out the pumps for a pair of Steve Madden sandals with
black jewels encrusted in their center and went back to the mirror.

She lifted her
shoulders to her ears and decided it was time for a glass of wine.

***

Dean crossed his
arms over his chest and bit his tongue. The early evening sun baked against his
neck, leaving dew-like drops of sweat springing from his forehead. An elderly
couple squeezed past and went inside the grocery store where the air conditioning
had to feel amazing. He shifted in his stance, watching a heavyset lady hold up
the growing
Redbox
line behind him.

“I
wanna
do it! I
wanna
do it!” the
lady’s little girl yelled, standing on her bare tip-toes and randomly pressing
buttons on the
Redbox
screen.

“Well then pick
one and let’s go!” the mom ordered, fanning her oversized
Tweety
Bird shirt to let some heat escape.

The kid scrolled
through screens at the speed of light and Dean rolled his eyes beneath his
shades. After Megan’s bombshell, even the most mundane tasks were now pure
torture. He checked his watch again and mopped his brow with the back of his
hand. He was late. Last night’s ordeal with Megan had left him with dark
circles and little patience. In the end, he decided Shaun was right. Telling Evy
anything about Megan would be pointless until he found out the truth one way or
the other. Unfortunately, after researching paternity tests online, he knew it
was going to be a long four or five weeks ahead of him. Until then, he would just
have to act like nothing was wrong around Evy, which would be an uphill battle
to say the least.

“Be nice if they
made reservations online like normal people.”

Dean turned to a
lady behind him and smiled.

“Some people,”
she muttered, shaking her head.

Dean turned back
around, wondering if Evy would be able to see Megan on his face. When he was
seventeen he had successfully managed to hide a dent in the rear bumper of his
dad’s Oldsmobile for three whole days. When his parents finally noticed, they
had been quick to write it off to some rude jerk at the grocery store or mall.
But this was different. The stakes were much higher than a seven hundred dollar
dent courtesy of a defiant telephone pole.

His phone vibrated
in his pocket. He pulled it out, knowing Evy was probably wondering where he
was, their dinner already getting cold. His eyes dropped to the screen and he
grimaced. Megan smiled at him with her bare boobs in her hands, holding them
like hamsters. He felt the lady behind him peering over his shoulder and quickly
slid the phone back into his pocket, making a mental note to destroy the
evidence before leaving the parking lot.

With
a low hum, the
Redbox
finally spit out a DVD in slow
motion.
The little girl snatched it and her mom towed her into the parking lot by the
hand.

“Thank God,” the
lady mumbled behind Dean.

Dean swiped his
Visa and waited for the red machine to find his reservations, feeling the heat
from the eyes and hot sun on his neck. At this rate, he was going to need another
shower but there was no time. He swallowed dryly, wondering if he could pull it
off. This was going to be much different than a seven hundred dollar dent.

***

Dean stared at
the brass plated number sixteen looking back at him on the door, his heart
thumping in his chest. He exhaled out his mouth, kicking himself for not
canceling. His first instinct to play sick and regroup had been correct as
usual. He cringed for not listening to his gut and knocked softly, clutching
the
Blu
-rays in a sweaty hand. His stomach churned
and he cursed Megan for putting him between a rock and a hard place like this.
Things were finally going great and destiny, for whatever reason, was hell-bent
on changing that. He had been down that road before when his parents had died
in that dented Oldsmobile and there was no way he was going down it again. He
had lost enough people for one lifetime. He hadn’t known Evy for long but the
bond was there just the same. A bond he had never felt with another living soul
his entire life.

The door cracked
open and his heart skipped a beat.

Evy pulled the
door back, smiling warmly.
“Hi, handsome.”

He stepped inside
and planted a kiss on her lips because that’s what he would do under normal
circumstances. They pulled apart and he avoided her eyes, continuing into the
living room where soft jazz oozed and candles burned.

“You look
great.”

“Thank you,” she
said, closing the door and sashaying into the kitchen.

“Smells
amazing.”

 
The oven door opened with a groan and Evy peeked
inside. “About ten more minutes.” She shut the door and went to the fridge. “I
hope you like lasagna.”

He dropped the
DVDs on a weathered coffee table more fitting for a Cape Cod bungalow. “Love it.”

“Momma’s secret recipe,”
she smiled, handing him a cold beer. “I hope you’re hungry. It’s a huge pan.”

He forced a
smile. “Starving,” he lied, taking the cold bottle and plopping down on the
couch with a tired moan bursting from his lips.

“Long
day?”

He stared at her
darkened flat screen. This was going to be harder than he thought. Maybe he
could pretend he wasn’t feeling well.
Stomach ache or a
fever.

“Hello?”

His head snapped
around to her. “Huh?”

She took a seat
next to him, careful not to spill her glass of cab as she folded one leg
beneath her. “Did you have a long day?” she asked, fixing his windblown hair.

The wheels
turned in his mind. He wondered if he looked like he had had a long day, and stretched
his lips downward. “It wasn’t too bad.” He took a long drink from his bottle,
the cool liquid feeling good against his tongue.

“That’s good,”
she said, resting her arm on the couch and rubbing his neck. “Ewe, you’re all
sweaty.”

He frowned and
thought about feigning a fever. “The
Redbox
line was
insane, and right in the sun.”

Evy eyeballed
the movies. “So what’d
ya
get?” she asked, bending
over and picking up the DVDs so he didn’t have to answer. He suddenly felt like
the best way to avoid the whole Megan topic was to do as little talking as
possible.

She held up one
of the movies for him to see and pulled a wide grin across her face. “I have
been waiting to see this forever!”

“Yeah,
me too.”

“I bet,” she
laughed. “Although, according to Jon, you do love yourself some chick flicks.”